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Time 22:49

The night air was rather cool, and somewhat crisp. The sky did not have a single cloud. This allowed for all the celestial bodies to be shown in their full splendor. In spite of all the moons and sky belts, there was not a lot of study on astronomy. The locals did not wish upon or star, nor did they do anything astrology related. It was almost as if the people subconsciously knew the truth.

Despite knowing the nature of this sky, Chalon found it interesting to stare at the night sky from time to time. He was staring at it, while his feet where on autopilot. They already had the coordinates to the Workhouse, so his path did not require any forethought. Kay noticed Chalon staring at the night sky.

Curious she asked, “Is there are dragon or something?”

Chalon shook his head in response.

“Then what is so interesting, up there?” asked Kay giving a disinterested stared upwards, before focusing on the path that laid ahead. There was quite a number of people roaming the streets at night.

Among them was Ace, who bumped into Chalon. Chalon could have avoided him, but Ace was going at a particular quick pace. Frowning, Ace said, “Watch were you are going!”

Chalon did not say anything, rather he moved aside and opened an imaginary door. He then held it open and gestured for Ace to go inside. Ace muttered, “Mimes are such a bother.”

When Ace did pass, Chalon took this moment to trip him with his foot. Ace gave a couple of odd steps, till he regained his balance. He guessed what Chalon had done. He turned around to protest, but Chalon and Kay where nowhere to be seen. They had dashed behind a nearby stairs that led up to a flat. As soon as Ace left, Chalon and Kay continued on their path.

Kay said to Chalon, “That was quite childish indeed.”

Chalon shrugged his shoulders in response.

“Why did you trip him?” asked Kay.

Chalon brought out his board, and he doubled underline an imaginary word. Kay was used to this type of response, and she knew what it meant.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter, does it?” said Kay more to herself.

The streetlamps by now where lit. Still, close to the Workhouse, there were a couple that required lighting. The lightning of the streetlamps was a government paid job. Overall, Sassari employed 20 fellows for this job. They all had to be done with their job before dusk had fully come. Since this street corner was still getting lit, it seemed like the fellow doing the job was a trainee. With practice, this simple task could be done with swiftness, and efficiency.

When Chalon and Kay reached the red Workhouse, it became obvious why the fellow was taking so long. He was going very slowly from light to light in this area. He was curious about the scenes he half saw through the open windows. Since the night was rather cool, the windows were open to let in the night air. This made going to sleep somewhat easier. 

On the surface, the Workhouse was just like any other Brothel. There the ladies by the clear glass windows enticing patrons to enter, and there was the bouncers, and the head matron. The ladies and gentlemen had the rights to refuse patrons they found unsavory, and they could spend entire nights not doing anything or anyone in particular. Sassari’s brothels differed somewhat with their play approach, there was a stage, and there was a public performance with a general theme.

This night’s theme was the birds. The males sported fancy plumages, while the ladies where in duller dresses. The males had to perform to impress the maidens. Following the bird theme, the performance included dancing, singing and others would offer gifts.

Chalon frowned a little, as he saw the ladies waving at him from outside the window. Chalon wrote to Kay, “Is finding out who injured your brother really worth all this problem?”

“What’s the matter? You scared or something,” asked Kay laughing.

Chalon shook his head. In the end, he decided to bite the bullet. He thought, there is no escape from what God has ordained for you.

This was indeed the place Jay had desired to take him to. Why of all the hell holes, did it have to the Workhouse of Murderers? On a whole, this Workhouse had a larger male than female population. Most of them had murdered their wives out a fit of jealousy. Now, they were dressed like their wives, trying to entice male patrons to be with them. Why did they put up with it? Well, do not forget that the alternative is working in the mines. Lazy people will do anything with everything to avoid doing actual work. Then again, these types of individuals were usually worked over extra hard in the mines to coerced them to enter the Workhouse.

The bouncer saw Chalon and Kay lingering out in the gates. He came near them and said, “Shoo, get out of here!”

“Sorry, sir, but we need to get inside,” insisted Kay.

“This is no place for crazy people. Shoo!” the bouncer added, “Or do you want me to call the guards?”

“Sir, we are not crazy people,” said Kay, “We were sent by Pip…he said to ask for, for..”

“Hanina,” wrote Chalon for Kay.

“Ah, that’s right, Hanina, we know Hanina,” said Kay.

“Why did you not say so before?” said the bouncer opening the gate, “Come in, come in.”

The bouncer was not wearing an armor, though he had no need for it. He had twice the bulk of a normal man, and almost twice the height. At 6’11, he towered above the average fellow like a mountain. It was said that his fists were strong enough to punch right through armors. He was known as Bull. Though his real name was Incitatus Rex Layola, he was of a noble family of torturers. He was serving as a bouncer in the Workhouse, because he was not too keen in following his father’s footsteps, and for good reason.

Like our people, we did not see the point of mortifying the flesh as a form of punishment. The inmates learned nothing, and society as a whole did not benefit from it. Forced labor is another story, and what the Workhouse was doing is interesting, if I do say so myself. Anyhow, Bull had acquired the nickname when he was little. The name was given to him by his little sister, who used to ride him like a bull, with the whip and everything. Since she was a little girl, she was allowed to torment him, and he was supposed to put up with it.

It was around that time when he started to meditate on the nature of his family’s work, and if he was accomplishing anything by putting up with his sister’s torment. The long story short was that he left home at the age of 12 and went to live with a weird uncle in Sassari.

Bull opened the door for Kay and Chalon. By now, the streetlight in front of the entrance had been lit. He looked at Chalon from head to toe, and he raised an eyebrow. He said, “Are you certain you are not crazy people?”

“I am certain of myself, but I have my doubts about him,” said Kay pointing at Chalon with her thumb.

“You are certainly dressed like a weirdo. Do you buy your own clothing, or do you make them?” asked Bull.

Chalon wrote, “I make them.”

“What’s with the board? Are you mute, or are you pretending to be silent to gain alms for your cult?” asked Bull.

“I don’t have a cult, nor do I belong to one,” wrote Chalon.

“Is Hanina like a password or something?” asked Kay.

“She is a person, but she is not here today. Have you been to a Workhouse before?” asked Bull.

“No,” said Kay.

Chalon though a moment, and then decided to shake his head in response.

“Well, I would love to give you a proper tour, but I have to man the door. I can’t have people sneaking in, or escaping, can I,” said Bull. He then added handing a little pamphlet to Kay, “This should tell you all you need to know. So, have fun, and always pay for things upfront, with a guard as a witness.”

“I see,” said Kay coming to sit beneath the swing to read the pamphlet.

Kay started reading the pamphlet under her breath. When she concluded, she handed it to Chalon who placed it under his robes without reading it.

“Well, let’s just wander about to see if we recognize the maiden,” said Kay.

It was then when Chalon got a report from one of our Observers. He then wrote, “The person we are looking for is called Lydia, though her stage name is Holly, like the flower.”

Kay narrowed her eyes, and she pondered how Chalon knew this. It was not the first time Chalon exhibited random bursts of insight. It was certainly not going to be the last, if we have a say in this matter. According to our records, Holly had murdered her husband because she did not want to sleep with him. Instead of talking things out like a normal person, she feigned headaches, till she got enough poison to kill the fellow. The man was not unreasonable. In fact, he had wedded her to hide the fact that he had other inclinations. She would have gotten away with it too, but we tipped the proper authorities. After a four-hour interrogation, she confessed and was sent to the mines.

She has only been in the Workhouse for at least a month. Chalon kept this information to himself. He knew that if Kay was informed, she would kill Holly. This would not serve any purpose in the grand scheme of things. He thought it was always better for people to pay for their crimes in this world, than in the afterlife.

After meditating this matters, Chalon took a step forward, and Kay followed behind.

The pair came to talk to one of the ladies who was dressed. Kay said to her, “We want to see Holly.”

“Holly is not seeing anyone today, or tomorrow for that matter. At this rate, she will be sent back to the mines,” said the lady.

“Whatever do you mean?” asked Kay.

“Well, if you had bothered to read our brochure, you would know that the Workhouse is still a prison, a dolled-up prison, but a prison nonetheless, honey,” said the lady.

“Still, we must see her,” insisted Kay.

“Fine, I will inquire, but I make no promises,” said the lady.

The lady was known as Bromes. She had not committed any crimes, rather she acted as a snitch, along with other women. They played pretend, and acted in the ceremonies, but they got to go home every so often, while the rest rotted away. These ladies were known onto each other based on their names. The true criminals had flower names while the snitches had weed code names. The interior was quite luminous, with a large audience hall, and banquet tables with cushions, foods and carpets. The patrons were dressed elegantly, based on the fashion of the day. The convicts wore flowers themed after their names. On the center, there was a round stage, with the main convict performers.

The time you spent in the Workhouse did not determined the day of release. Rather, it was based on the number of times you worked, and the nature of the service provided. Those who did the public performances got off faster. While a normal prison sentence could last 20 years, those on the stage could be out as early as 2 years, assuming that they performed every day. Those who graduated from the Red Workhouse were still exiled from Sassari. Those in the other houses were given a chance to rejoin decent society. Still, even those exiled did not leave with empty hands. The tricks they learned in the Workhouse could service them in the future.

Exiled in Sassari was a bit different than in other holds. While those exiles were unceremoniously kicked out of the hold, the people in Sassari took the time to transport the convicts to another part of the Continent. Depending on their behavior and sign of repentance, they could be taken to other cities. Some were even given startup money, and a second pair of clothing. Those that were not particularly well liked were shipped up north, as far as away from Sassari as possible.

From time to time, some whose crimes were too gruesome were unceremoniously executed during the transport, but never in Sassari. Those executions were illegal, and it was more often than not the handywork of dear old Sir Ladarius, but that is a story for another time. Needless to say, he did not like the whole idea of the Workhouses. For him, they felt like a type of reward, instead of a punishment to evildoers. If it was up to him, all criminals should be used in the mines, specially the murderers.  

After getting this useful bit of information, Chalon could not help but utter the sound, “Mh!”

Nobody around him noticed that had made this sound. Not even Chalon noticed. He was just a little bit disappointed by Sir Ladarius other hobbies. The lady guided them to a staircase. It was surrounded by a gate from either side. It was also so skinny that only one person could walk at a time. This made it easier to corral the prisoners when going upstairs. To masquerade this, the gates and bars were ornamental, with figures of roses and dragons.

On the second floor, the corridors widened a bit. Still, there was only room enough for four people to walk. Each door was made of silver, and it had about 5 locks. A little window could be opened on the door to look inside. Still, the preferred method of observation was through the paintings. In the middle of every 4 rooms, there was a hidden 5^th room. One could only get at those rooms through the attic. From this narrow room, the guards could keep an eye on their charges. As far as paranoia went, the matron who had designed this home was full of it.

It had originally been the mansion of a someone of the Imperia clan. She had designed this home in such a way as to keep tabs on all her family members. From the attic, she could get to the small hidden rooms to eavesdrop on them. After her death, these rooms were made smaller, and the bars and locks were added. This mansion just seemed like the ideal home to turn into the Red Workhouse. The hallway in the second room had a red and black wallpaper. The mansion itself was red, with white windows, doors and columns. The roof was Mansard style, with small windows looking to the exterior. There was no obvious stairs that led to the attic rooms. Rather, the main stair that led to the attic could only be found in the basement floor.

In addition to all these niceties, it was said that this house was haunted. Indeed, it was. From time to time, the eye of Lais La Imperia could be seen peeping through the keyholes, behind the curtains and all the usual places children like to hide. Aside from her, we Observers also haunt all the Workhouses. We would have been here today, but it was said that something interesting was going down in the Blue Workhouse, and so our main Workhouse staff was elsewhere. Chronicling the places like the Workhouse is always a surefire way of making a quick buck or two.

Anyway, after walking in this corridor surrounded by silver doors, and creepy paintings, the lady Bromes guiding Chalon and Kay stopped. She thought a moment and said, “Is this a family visit, or a pleasure meeting?”

“Neither. We just need some clarification,” said Kay.

“Whatever do you mean?” asked Bromes

“We just simply want to ask her a question,” said Kay.

The ghost of gossiping Lais stirred behind a curtain near a window at the end of the hallway. Chalon walked slowly towards it while pretending to look at the paintings. He wrote something down on his board.

Meanwhile Kay was talking to the Bromes. She was attempting to avoid answering why she truly wanted to see Lais. Truth be told, the Lady had every reason to suddenly worry. It was not too uncommon for courtesans to get murdered by disgruntled clients. The only way to avoid this was to carefully vet visitors and make certain they were unharmed. With the pair preoccupied as thus, Chalon felt easy enough to lift the curtain and show his chalkboard to the ghost. The chalkboard read, “I see you.”

Alarmed Lais yelled and tried to pass through the window to head outdoors. Chalon detained her by grabbing her spirit cloak. He stretched a portion of his soul outside his body, to speak to Lais. Using his spirit body, he said, “Look, I just want to talk. Relax, see. I am see-through just like you.”

Lais looked at Chalon’s spirit, and his body. In his fragmentary soul form, he had the same energy feeling as a flea. Those who had the spirit of a flee tended to be quite bloodthirsty. It is for this reason that we segment spirits, not by bodies, but by natures. Like Lais, Chalon had quite a long spirit cloak. The cloak was a spiritual manifestation of one’s willpower. The robes since they were of magical nature, also had an astral body. As for Lais, her willpower manifested for her robes of the finest silks, with pearls and diamonds. For those who could see, she glistened with a radiance like the morning sun.

Lais saw herself life like the 15-year-old girl from yonder times. With a round face, large expressive gray eyes, and curly hair, the color of midnight. Lais said, “Now, this is a backward, I haven’t in long, I just forgotten, but where are my manners, would you like some tea?”

Her spirit manifested an entire tea set, with the chairs to boot. Chalon sat down, and he accepted her offering. He drank deep from her spiritual tea, and his soul was nourished by this exchange.

After he drank her tea, he said, “It is a little bitter, with a slight hint of lemon. It will do just fine, thank you.”

“So, what brings you to my humble estate?” asked Lais.

“Do you keep track of all the comings and goings of this mansion?” asked Chalon.

“No, a lady such a I would not stoop so low as to spy, or even dare to gossip,” said Lais giggling.

“What of your chambermaid, has she heard something interesting?” asked Chalon.

“Tessa has been in many places and seen many things, but aside from idle chatter, the subjects she brings me are too mundane for me to pay any serious attention,” said Lais coyly.

“Has Tessa told you anything about Holly?” asked Chalon.

“Holly, Holly, a you mean the new scullery maid. A bit of a dour puss, she spends her entire time flirting with a gypsy boy. I would not be surprised if one day he scoops her away, and we never hear from her,” said Lais, “Unlike the other girls, she goes out to explore the city from time to time, even though she is not supposed to.”

“How does she get out?” asked Chalon.

“Through the floorboard, when father was small, he liked to crawl through narrow spots, through the walls, and nooks and crevices. In his old age, he still liked to engage in his hobby. From time to time, he likes to give people quite the fright, so silly, my dear father,” Lais added, “He showed Holly the secret entrance in her room in exchange of seeing her jiggle her…her candle mine.”

Chalon thought a moment, and then he said, “I see. So, how far out of the house does your father’s tunnel lead?” 

“Just out through the horse’s stables. From there, you push down one of the bars, and the gate opens, and then you enter the streets, thought a little dusty and covered in spiders,” explained Lais.

Chalon flew in the direction of the stables. There was just two horses and a carriage. It was mainly used to bring supplies and new prisoners into the Workhouse. There was a solid stone path that led to the main house and back. After putting his head in, he saw that indeed it was hollow. Crawling through this hole was Lais’s father. His eyes glistened like diamonds in the darkness, and as he walked, he contorted his frame.

He said to Chalon, “Look, dad I am a wagon wheel.”

And like a wheel, he rolled through his little tunnel. On top, Chalon heard the horses stir nervously. After getting this look about, Chalon returned to Lais. He said, “I should be getting back. Thank you for the tea.”

“You are welcome,” said Lais.

When Chalon returned to his body, Kay was pocking him on the shoulder. Lady Bromes was passing her hand in front of Chalon’s face. She asked Kay concerned, “Is your friend always like this?”

“He spaces out like that from time to time,” explained Kay.

“He could not be possessed, could he?” asked Bromes worried.

“Why would possession be a thing here? Does it occur often?” asked Kay.

“I don’t know, the women talk, and one can’t help but worry. Some say that at night, they wake up because someone was licking their belly button. It is something a little too weird and specific for it to be made up or a dream,” said Bromes more to herself.

“Well, this is what to be expected if one lives in a haunted mansion,” said Kay. She added, “If you train yourself, you can stop perceiving the supernatural, you can also stop having nightmares to.”

“And pray do tell how do you train for that?” said Bromes in disbelief.

The conversation was interrupt with Chalon turning to look at them. Kay said, “We are going to go speak with Holly, are you coming?”

Bromes turned the key and she opened the door for Chalon and Kay. She said to the pair, “I am going to be nearby, yell if you need something.”

Chalon and Kay entered within. Sitting in a corner was a stout maiden. She had struggled in the mines for 4 years before giving in. She had been helping to dig a new tunnel when gas was found. The entire place went up in smokes, and about 2 miners got burned to a crisp. Holly thought they had died, since they were removed with sheets covering them. They were taken away as such, so the other miners would fear their own mortality. It was a good way to get them to be more careful in the future. As of now, the two men are still recovering. It was this incident that prompted Holly to apply for the workhouse.

She was a medium height woman, with the faced shaped like that of a dude. She had a strong chin, and a roman nose. The only traits of femininity found in her face were her eyes and her big, naturally red lips. Her eyes were the color of amber. Under the light of the candle, they glistened like two golden spheres. She was currently wearing a white nightgown. She was in the progress of combing her long, curly red hair, while starring into a mirror.

When she looked up, she thought Kay was Jay. When the sister dressed like a boy, she was often confused for her brother. Annoyed, Holly said, “How are you alive?”

Kay said nothing in response in order not to betray her identity.

“I told you I was not leaving with you,” she said putting her mirror and comb on the vanity.

Holly leaned back and she rested her face on her wrist. She added looking at Chalon, “And you, have you come to aid in my escape?”

Chalon shrugged his shoulders in response. He was a little bit at a loss for words. In part, because he was starting to feel a little bit stupid. In the end, Kay decided to take the initiative. Going straight to the point, she said, “Why did you stab my brother?”

“Oh!” said Holly taken aback, “I am sorry for the misunderstanding. I can imagine the state he must have been when he returned to you, but you see your brother was done in by his own hand.”

“Chalon did you know this?” asked Kay annoyed.

In response, Chalon started to curl one of his strands, and to whistle. As he whistled, he became smaller and smaller, till he was the size of an ant. Kay stepped on Chalon, and she said, “By the Gods, look at how much time we wasted. Look, sorry we bothered you, we best be going home.”

Chalon resumed his normal height, thought a little bit flat. He took some deep breaths till he was 3D once again. Kay knocked on the door, but there was no response. It seemed as if Bromes assumed that this conversation would last a little longer.

Chalon wrote, “She is making her way to the spying spot.”

Holly asked, “What did your magic friend write? And if he be magic, why is he mute. Can’t a wizard cure himself?”

Kay said, “Chalon is mute because he is a fool. As for what he wrote, here you can read it yourself.”

She took Chalon’s board and she handed it to Holly who read the message. She said to Kay, “What is the spying spot?”

“It’s the place that the guards here use to spy on people. I suppose,” said Kay added, “They are pretty common in Workhouses, or so I heard.”

“Considering the happenings here. I would not be surprised, thought that explains how they know,” said Holly more to herself.

“How do they know what?” inquired Kay.

“Nothing to worry your pretty little head about,” said Holly, “And for what is worth, I am sorry for your brother. Had I known about his condition; I would have been a little bit more indulgent.”

“Is alright. Goodbye, then Holly, and good luck,” said Kay.

“It is Beatrix, by the way,” said Holly getting up and bowing.

Kay and Chalon followed in suit. Since the door was not opening, Chalon used telekinesis to open the locks. They then left the door open for Holly. When she saw them out in the hallway, she rose and closed the door behind her. She indeed was not too keen on rejoining society and for good reason to. The pair walked out, unescorted. As soon as they were out in the gardens, the bouncer Bull asked, “Leaving so soon?”

“It was ok, but it was not really our thing,” said Kay.

“Is there anything we can do to improve upon your experience?” asked Bull.

“Well, sometimes people just want a good conversation and nothing else. Not everything has to be about matters of the flesh,” said Kay.

“Why am I not surprised,” said Bull.

“Surprised about what?” asked Kay feeling an implied insult.

“Nothing much, have a good night you two, and be careful when walking, there are gypsies prowling the city,” said Bull.

“Haha! Very funny,” said Kay feigning a laughter.

When outside, Kay asked Chalon, “Why did you not read Jay’s mind to see what had happened?”

“Because you can’t read the mind of an unconscious fellow,” wrote Chalon. He added, “And even then, the person has to be thinking of the event you want to find out about.”

“So, you say, and yet you are able to get a good read on most people,” insisted Kay.

“I FORGOT,” wrote Chalon in big caps.

“Well, as long as you admit it,” said Kay contempt with herself.

The pair started their walk back to camp. Luckily, the Red Workhouse was just a couple of blocks away. They would reach their destination in about 10 minutes. Along the way, Kay asked more to herself, “Why did brother do what he did?”

“You know how he gets when he wants something,” wrote Chalon.

“The girl is not even that pretty,” said Kay frowning.

“I don’t think it is like that,” wrote Chalon.

“How so?” asked Kay.

“Think about it. Holly has a means to escape, and yet she chooses to return to prison,” wrote Chalon.

“I see. I suppose it must be hard for a lady, and a convict who doesn’t know much to get by in the world. At least things are predictable, and they keep a friendly work environment in the Workhouse,” said Holly more to herself.

“I suppose there is no point in thinking about it too much,” said Chalon.

By now, they were outside. In camp, the sound was as it was to be expected. The people were rehearsing and talking as normal. One of the fellows, seeing Chalon and Kay said, “Did you hear? Jay is awake?”

“Did he say anything stupid?” asked Kay.

“Just the usual. That boy needs to learn some self-control,” said the man walking away. He was dressed in a Harlequin costume.

Kay said, “Well, we best prepare for the performance. I am at least glad we did not miss it. I am not certain if my understudy was going to be able to keep up.”

“In order to keep up, one must show a bit of interest in the play,” wrote Chalon.

“Not this again, sheesh! I am sorry we did not do your thing. It just seemed like a bit too expensive to make all those animal costumes you wanted,” said Kay making excuses.

“Mmm…you are no fun,” said Chalon pouting.

The play Chalon wanted to do was about a cat girl detective. It was based on a series of children’s book his mother had written. The episode he had chosen focused on the elder sister taking care of the cat girl for the first time. While playing, the cat girl had fallen down a well. She then had a snake guy saved the little kitty. The sister had made the cat girl promise not to tell. The snake boy naturally told the mother what had occurred. The infantile nature of the play was the main reason it was rejected.

Chalon figured that since there were a lot of kids in town, they might as well put up a show for them. The play had two other episodes as well. Somewhat disappointed, Chalon left to a dark portion of the nearby forest to pass his lunch. It took him about a couple of minutes. After he concluded this business, the took a quick bath, where he also evacuated. When he was cleaned, he left towards his changing room. He had a bit part in the first act. He was part of the chorus dance scene. He was usually the main male dancer because he was more acrobatic than the average fellow. The dressing room was the same for all the performers. There were maidens and gentlemen putting the final touches on the clothing of all the dancers. Chalon changed into his leotard. Over it, he was dressed with the costume of the dance. They were doing a romance play about the Goddess of Love. Love was a pretty popular theme in Sassari. Market studies showed they preferred plays that featured 30 percent dancing. They were not too big on singing. This information was provided by Chalon on arrival. As such, they looked through their resources of Romance plays that had performed well in the past, and it was tweaked to have more dancing scenes.

Chalon’s costume was like a matador, with the tight pants, that went below the knees. The socks were pitch black. The sides of the pants had golden embroidery patterns, and the rest was blue. The pants went as high as the chest. Over it, he had a golden vest, with an ornamental jacket that followed the same pattern as the pants. Attached to the back of his jacket, he had a long cape, with the top golden and the bottom blue. Chalon looked at the costume over the top. It was indeed what was agreed upon. After meditating a little, he decided to add a large black hat. It had a ribbon, with a sunflower. The part that provided shading was about 10 feet in diameter.

Shaun who was passing by said, “That hat looks ridiculous.”

In response to his assertion, Chalon added to his hat a large ostrich feather. Shaun chuckled, as well as some of the other male dancers preparing for the show.

It is interesting to note that bullfighting never got started in Saturnastra. As such, the matador costume was seen like any other type of attire. Still, it was more common in the theater world because capes had gone out of fashion two centuries ago.

In response to this defiance, Shaun left to speak with Mahala. She was the oldest daughter of Harold’s brother. When the two clans had split, Mahala had chosen to stay with her uncle. She managed all the performers and was the one to call for any last-minute stipulations. At the moment, she was helping to close corsage of Kay’s dress.

As for Mahala herself, she was a Rubenesque beauty, with hair the color of gold, and eyes black as coals. She was middle aged, with hundreds of lines on her forehead. She always bore a worried look on her brow, even when she was laughing or smiling. When she saw Shaun coming over, she said, “I haven’t the time to deal with your petty complains.”

“I am raising a legitimate concern,” said Shaun.

“Sure. Huff! You are,” said Kay drawing in a deep breath.

“It’s Chalon. Today was a bad day for him. I think he needs to take a break from the performance to work on his mood,” said Shaun feigning concern.

“He is fine,” said Mahala, “If he was not in a proper mood, he would not have bothered to show up.”

“Well, it isn’t the first time he has caused an unexpected ruckus. I just don’t want a repeat like last time,” said Shaun. He was about to elaborate when he noticed Chalon standing there, reclining against the post with his arms folded.

Chalon gestured with his right hand in a wavy fashion. Shaun imagined that Chalon wanted him to elaborate. Indeed, that was Chalon’s intention. Before each performance, Chalon would put his board away. He did not want to risk dirtying his outfit.

“This is what I get for showing my concern,” Shaun added looking at Chalon, “Do try not to cause a problem tonight. Word on the street says that there is going to be someone from the Pavilions today. If we cause an impression we might get a commission to perform in the castle. We must not let this opportunity go to waste.”

In response to this assertion, Chalon straightened his left arm with a closed fist. With the other hand he placed it over his elbow. He then stuck out his tongue and blew a raspberry. Kay and Mahala who knew what that gesture meant, started laughing. Shaun who was not in on the joke frowned and left the room to stand behind the closed curtain. He was waiting for the show to begin.

Mahala straightened Chalon’s silly hat. Smiling, she said, “It was the missing touch. Do your best.”

Chalon nodded in response.

Chalon left the tent and made his way to the backstage. It was almost time before the play would begin. The person playing the Goddess was a dancer they had picked up not so long ago. She was a nymph who went by the name of Misty of Albion. She had recently acquired her freedom and was itching to put her training to good use. Her owner had taught her many different types of dances including ballet. The one thing he had not taught her was how to read and write. It was for this reason that Chalon always made an exception with her. While he annoyed other people with his writing, he used telepathy to speak with Misty.

When he did, he would move his mouth to mimic the words he was saying. Still, he was not using his true voice. Her tutu dress was golden, and the tutu was decorated with shiny, reflective star shaped glass buttons. The skirt went just as low as her knees. The shoes were white, with golden laces. Her hair was a stunning silver color. Normally, the ballerinas would have their hairs done up. For Misty, they had the hair undone. This was Chalon’s idea. He thought it would add to the aesthetic of the dance, and it would make Misty look more Godlike. The bulbous nature of the tutu had an interesting effect. It made Misty appear far skinnier than she actually was. Her face had makeup. The make up over the eyes was a dark brown, while her lips were painted purple. For blush, she had golden powder on her cheeks. She had been instructed to try to keep her eye colors under a bright hue.

This was easier said than done. To keep them light, she had to maintain a happy disposition. She was somewhat of a distracted fellow, and this could often cause a color shift, making her eyes appear green, or even red.

Chalon smiled at her, and she smiled and waved in response. She said to Chalon, “Pretty soon I am going to be able to read.”

“That’s good,” mouthed Chalon.

“Too bad when that happens I won’t be able to hear your voice anymore,” said Misty.

“You put too much value on such trivial things,” mouthed Chalon.

“I know,” said Misty. She thought a moment, and then added, “Are you going to do what we practiced yesterday or are you going to do whatever?”

“A little of both. I haven’t decided yet,” mouthed Chalon.

“You have to promise to catch me,” said Misty walking closer pointing with her finger, “If you drop me, I am going to be quite cross with you.”

Shaun entering the scene commented, “If I were you, I would not trust him my life or my limbs.”

“I would not trust me either,” mouthed Chalon.

Shaun narrowed his eyes. He knew Chalon had spoken, but his words were only heard by Misty. Still, he pretended to guess what Chalon had said. He added, “Enough idle chatter. The guests are arriving.”

Misty moved the curtain a little and peered outside. The makeshift audience hall was slowly getting filled. The front row was usually vacated because the nobles brought their own chairs. The stage was set at the foot of the city walls. This provided a steady pavement for the people to sit on. It also added more viewing points as well. Over the walls, there were people and guards looking over. As for the musicians, they were set in 4 corners. In this way, they simulated surround sound. This had been one of Chalon’s little ideas they had bothered to implement. There was about 12 musicians in each corner, with the same number of instruments. The only instrument they could not put in 4 corners was the piano. It was located at the foot of the stage. To supplement the absence of the piano, those in the background had a 13^th player who utilized a Glockenspiel. For those not familiar with the instrument, it looks like a handheld xylophone.

The other instruments being used were violins, cellos, clarinets and oboes. Not all the music players were of the clan. A good number were supplemented from local musicians who did not have anything better to do. A while back, La Imperia had decided to have her empire be famous for her music. She was competing with the Dragon Riders of Sybilla. As such, she created a Music Academy. The Music Academy at the moment is no longer operational. With the war, the focus had to change from the arts of peace, to the arts of war. Practically every guard in Sassari is familiar with at least one instrument. Every noble household has at least one virtuoso, who was whipped into brilliance.

One of those virtuosos was the one who was grudgingly playing the piano. He went by the name of Alphonse. Up until recently, he lived on the street, hiding away from anyone that might know him. The guards were onto his identity, and his family name, but chose to say nothing. It was a common know fact that Alphonse was a little bit crazy. At the moment, he is living with Ace and Hardwin. He was the one who damaged Ace’s little flower, for which he had recently received a serious talking to.

Among his many problems, Alphonse suffered from Glass delusion. He remembered swallowing a piece of glass when he was small. It was a round piece, used for ornamenting the chandeliers. He never saw it come out of his system. In fact, it did come out. It was just mixed in with his other excrements. Ever since then, Alphonse has worried about what would happen if the glass broke while inside his body. From time to time, Alphonse would develop a bit of a bulimia. He would eat heavy foods to see if it would wash out the glass bauble. Whenever he would not find it, he would be quite disappointed. At other times, he imagined that it had passed to his lungs, during those spells he would breathe very carefully, and only when he was standing still.

Despite all this, he still managed to develop a decent enough talent for the piano. At the age of 47, he was at the prime of his skills. He never left Sassari, and he never roamed past any of the familiar spots. From time to time, he would go to temple to see if the priest could heal his condition, but it never worked. His malady was of the mind, and not the flesh. Such fixations is something that there exist no cure for. This is at least what his family thought till Chalon fixed him. Using his mind powers, he made Alphonse imagine that he had spit out the bauble. Now that he was “cured”, he sat on the piano chair with a steady stride.

The scene after he spat the bauble was pitiful, really. Let’s roll the tape, shall we? Here we see Alphonse crying, as he holds nothing in thin air. He says, “After all these years, I finally… I am finally free.”

Chalon wrote, “It is all in a day’s work.”

“If I had known that all I had to do was reach down into my throat, I would have done so years ago,” said Alphonse laughing.

“It was stuck on some sticky honey. You were never going to dislodge it,” explained Chalon.

Alphonse then threw the imaginary piece of glass on the floor. He then stepped on it. Smiling he said, “Now, you will never hurt anyone ever again.”

Chalon asked, “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I think I am going to set myself straight. I can’t return home looking like this,” said Alphonse a little bit more composed.

“I don’t feel right about you living on the street,” Chalon thought a moment and then added, “You should ask the gardening brothers. They might hire you as their local bard cause their flowers grow better with music.”

“I will do that, then,” said Alphonse. He added bowing, “I thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

Ever since that incident, Alphonse has been playing music for the gypsies for free. He has been in all the rehearsals. The court lady in question whom Shaun had referred to was Alphonse’s sister, Lady Scarlet Meuse. She had always known of her brother’s whereabouts but did not know how to help him. She was not the type of person to stop someone from doing what they so desired. She was in the audience dressed as a lady’s handmaid. Her own handmaid was dress in one of her best fineries. Her maid was Bridget, and the two had grown up together and were very close. Lady Scarlet had even paid Bridget’s dowry. Bridget still worked for Lady Scarlet, but more out of habit than anything else. Since Bridget had failed to conceive children, she took care of Lady Scarlet’s brood as if they were her own.

By now, everyone was seated. The sounds went from murmurs to coughs to annoying bodily noises and then finally, silence. Well, there was not truly true silence. There was noise from the rustling of nearby trees, and the torches from the walls provided the stage light. The play started with the piano. Alphonse closed his eyes and started doing an improvisation on the work that he had practiced. After veering off on a bit of a tangent, he opened his eyes, and started following the music sheet. Sitting on top of the piano was a little boy. His only job was to turn the pages. Despite much practice, Alphonse did not have the music memorized. Still, he could follow dexterously enough with his nimble thin fingers.

His sister had the same hands as well, and grey eyes too. Both had aged rather quickly, due to the suffering caused by Alphonse’s malady. While Lady Scarlet had a round, feminine face, it was marred with countless worried lines. Her brother too had a haggard look on his face, with the sunken cheekbones of not eating well, and a somewhat hunched back from sleeping on the floor for so many years.

While playing the Overture, he took a furtive look at the audience. He recognized his sister in the audience. This recognition made him grin a little. His note strokes took a lighter, more fluid pace, and his playing became more relaxed. The other instruments soon joined in, and the play had finally started. The curtain rose slowly. The audience thought it was to build suspense. The truth of the matter was that the pulley system was malfunctioning. Eventually, the curtain did finish rising.

At first, the audience saw two pairs of small feet. They were soon followed by part of the skirt, then the delicate hands, and then the rest of Misty. Since the raising of the curtain was delayed, Alphonse gave the notes a bit of a longer intonation. The musicians were trained to do the same. This was the gambit they had practice in case of unexpected delays. When everything was at a normal speed, Misty started with her little footwork. It reminded Chalon of the dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy. Misty stretched her hands forward, with quite the gleeful, expression on her face.

When she smiled, Misty always showed a little bit too many teeth. This highlighted the fact that they were all uneven. Despite this defect, they were as pure as pearls. Those who were sharper of hearing, could discern the fact that Misty was humming the piano song to herself. It was a habit that she had no control over of. Since it was barely audible, it was tolerated. From the little tippy toe movements, she started turning, as she moved through the stage from left to right. When she reached the left side of the stage, Shaun stepped forward. As he advanced, she retreated till she was towards the right.

From the right, advanced Chalon. When she moved back another dancer joined the stage. This dancer was Kay, disguised as her brother. She was taking his place since he was still recuperating. Soon, other male dancers joined the stage. They were not as skilled as Chalon, Kay or Shaun, but they provided a serviceable arrangement. A couple were former slave elves, two were dwarves who wanted to be taken seriously and the last 4 were giant children, ages 7 and 10.

When the dwarves entered the scenes, some of the audience people laughed a little. The dwarves stoically ignored them, and they continued advancing, while dancing. When the circle around Misty was tightened, she brought out a fan that was hidden on the back of her dress. With it, she started her little dance motions, and she wound fan away her eager suiters. As she did, her leg combinations became more complicated. When all the male dancers were pushed back, she stood in the center, gently turning in circles. She eventually, stopped, and she closed her fan, and pointed at the first suiter.

The first one was one of the extras. He did some mild acrobatics, to which Misty responded in kind. To push them back, she did a temps de poisson jump, followed by a grand jete and concluding with a pas de chat. She then brought out her fan again and started tippy toing her way back to her spot. This same scene repeated, this time with larger numbers of suiters working in unison. For the sake of brevity, she had dispatched the main bulk in about 3 minutes. When it came time for Kay, her movement set was a little bit more gymnastic.

In this world, a lot of gymnastic moves had gotten integrated into the dance form that we know as ballet in our world. In one of her turns, Kay had held onto her leg, with her other hand outstretched. She managed this move building up on the momentum of a regular turn. She timed it in such a way as to face Misty. Before bowing, while still keeping that leg touching her head. In response to this challenge, Misty removed the sash from her dress, which stretched a couple of meters in length. She tied it to her fan, and she used it as a baton. She changed her dance into a little routine reminiscence of rhythmic gymnastics.  

When she concluded this little duel, Misty inspired plenty of clapping from the audience.

In response to her gymnastics, Shaun started his routine. He opened with some standard back handsprings, which evolved into a back somersault. Misty circled around her framed, with her little string, and drew nearer to show she was impressed. She then looked at Chalon and threw her string around him to encourage him to do something amassing. Chalon was supposed to mimic Shaun’s movement, but in a clumsy manner.

Instead, Chalon did a combination of cartwheels, till his jumps evolved into a sideways scissor’s leap. He then added a double layout, with a 180 degree turn at the end. Chalon was capable of more acrobatic feats, but the trick to being impressive in the human world was keeping his dance moves impressive, but believable. Shaun knew he could not beat Chalon in acrobatics. He still remembered that one time he found Chalon contorted, hiding in a little box. Why was he hiding in a box? Well, at the time, it seemed like something fun to do. He spent that entire day trying to contort his frame into different crevices all over the camp to freak out whoever found him.

Shaun folded his hands and thought a moment. It was then when he arrived at a singular idea. To carry out his plan, he did a combination, and a dismount off the stage. He then came to one of the nearby violinists and took his instrument. Still holding it, he jumped back onto the stage using a spring that one of the people working under the stage provided for him. He did a forward jump, with half twist and his back tucked. This jump did not require the use of his hands.

When he was on stage, Shaun played a fast combination of music. He then pointed at Chalon with the bow of the violin. Chalon came closer to him to take the bow. Shaun stepped back saying, “Get your own.”

This caused some chuckles from the crowd. Seemingly annoyed, Misty placed her palm to her face, and she shook her head sadly. She then folded her arms and waited for Chalon to be booted out of the stage. On the meantime, the main instruments had stopped. Only Alphonse was playing. Since he excelled at improvisation, he punctuated the scenes he saw with piano music. Never skipping a beat, he watched Chalon and company like a hawk. Now, he was playing light notes, to make the entire scene seem more like a comedy. This was just about anything to save the situation. Though in reality, the play was supposed to have been quite serious.

To depart the stage, Chalon’s dismount started as a cartwheel which transitioned into a jump with back tucked. When Chalon came to the musician, the musician held onto his violin protectively.

He said to Chalon, “Enough is enough. Just follow the script before the audience realizes the truth.”

Chalon walked to the other side of the stage, and again the violinists refused to give him an instrument. Annoyed, Chalon removed his silly hat and he got out a violin from inside of it. To get back onto the stage, Chalon ran a bit and did a forward tucked jump, with half a twist.

The person that had putted out the trampoline had been half tempted with removing it to mess with Chalon’s jump. In the end, he decided not to do so. To keep things short, Chalon played a portion of the fourth movement of Bartok’s Sonata for Solo violin. Those who were familiar with the instrument understood the difficulty of it. Chalon only played the first half of the movement, and then the finisher. He was not too keen on the middle allegro portion of it. He might have picked something a little bit more thematic, but he was being put on the spot. He knew that Shaun was testing him, and he was not about to lose.

Indeed, it was quite the petty situation. The nobles with a pocket watch, and pamphlet knew that this opening act had already lasted 10 minutes more than scheduled. Lady Scarlet imagined that Chalon and Shaun were truly pinning after Misty’s attention. What else could explain why one of the dancers had not vacated the premises?

This play about Love was based on a popular story about her. In order for the story to progress, one of the two had to give in. Instead of playing music, Shaun opened his mouth and sang in his loud, strong tenor voice, “Mnio!”

 Shaun knew that Chalon could only use his telepathy with one person at time. He guessed this after seeing many interactions of Chalon in the past. Chalon narrowed his eyes and left the stage. With him gone, Misty breathed in a sigh of relief. Alphonse returned to follow the script, and the play resumed with Chalon already playing his part. At least he had his 20 minutes of fame or whatever.

Waiting for him on the other side of the curtain was Kay. She was already dressed for the next scene. Folding her arms, she said, “Why must you always be so difficult when Shaun is around?”

From inside his hat, Chalon brought out his board and chalk. He scribbled down, “He is the one who started.”

“Is he thinking bad thoughts towards you? I can have grandpa look into the matter?” said Kay.

“It won’t be necessary,” wrote Chalon. He added, “There are some things that cannot be helped.”

“You always write that whenever you do not want to deal with a problem,” commented Kay.

“You can read me like a book,” wrote Chalon. He added a smiling face at the end of his sentence.

Kay looked at the smiling face, and then at Chalon’s dour look on his face. Noting the time, she said, “We can deal with it tomorrow. For now, just do whatever it is you usually do at this hour of the night.”

“Graverobbing,” wrote Chalon.

“It isn’t so much as graverobbing if it is our own family members, is it not?” said Kay.

I think it still counts, thought Chalon more to himself.

In response to Kay’s inquiry he simply shrugged his shoulders. He left the stage and went to the changing room. He neatly folded the clothing provided to him for this performance. From within his silly hat, he brought out his current change of clothing. One of the stagehands had prepared for him a tub of hot water. During the morning, Chalon preferred cold water. At night, he preferred a warm bath. Before entering, he rinsed himself over the top with one bucket. He then cleaned himself with soap, before removing it over the top with second bucket that had been provided. Once he felt himself relatively clean, he went to enter the bath to soak, and mope a little bit.  

He gently stroked the surface of the water with his index finger and thumb. He sighed a little and thought that even with 30 hours, there was barely enough time to do everything. He pondered a bit on the following day. If things went well, they would perform for the nobles. This would require more finery. He would probably spend the entire day helping the seamstresses. There was also the continuation of the editions to the plays. He might also have to help Shaun a bit with his morning routines.

If everything went well, he could get a little time to do something that he wanted. He closed his eyes and thought a moment. By focusing on his breathing, he was able to stretch a single moment to infinity. To time this little trance, he stretched his hand. He would snap out of it as soon as a single water droplet fell onto the water.

This change in perception had its own problems. There are two types of things in this world. There are things that seem to stand still because they move so slow, but there are also the latter. Of the roaming little speed demons, to which everything stood still, to them humans were like the plants. The flap of the camp opened and closed rather swiftly. Inside, there came a fellow with eyes the amber. The iris covered the entire eyes, and the pupil was horizontal like those of a goat. The person wore a type of kimono, and its hands and feet were long and thin. It walked on the tip of its toes. It stopped a moment to look at Chalon. From its small mouth, it emitted a very faint sound.

With his heightened perception, Chalon noted that it was speaking in a strange language. Chalon had heard of these people, but he had never seen them in the flesh. They were known as the Sith people. They were cave dwellers like the noble trolls. Aside from Chalon’s people, only the King Berthame was aware of their exitance. The Sith rarely took an interest in the happenings of the people in the above world. For them, humans were just like the snails, and humans very rarely took an interest the life of a snail. Aside from the humanoid beings, there was another subspecies of beings that fell under the Sith category. Anything that moved as quickly as they did we considered them Sith creatures.

The Sith person said to Chalon, “You are a snail? And yet I can see that you perceive me.”

Using his mind, Chalon said, “Hello to you as well?

“I saw your jumps in the play and wanted to get a better look at you,” said the Sith person.

“I suppose falling is quick enough for you people to catch,” commented Chalon.

“Seems like it, indeed. Though I can’t imagine the patience you must exert to live among these slowpokes,” said the Sith person.

“It is not so bad, it is all a matter of changing your point of view of the world,” said Chalon.

The conversation ended when the water droplet fell. Since the Sith person was standing still, the stagehand was able to see it. Taking a step back and falling, he said, “Whoa! What are you?”

In response, the Sith person returned to its home. The only hint of its presence was the flapping curtain of the entrance to the tent. It was this visit of the Sith person which allowed Chalon to finally remember last night’s dream. He had been trying to remember all day. This was part of the reason why he was half distracted at times. He was keen on remembering and putting a pin on it because of the subject matter. As it happens, people usually have several dreams during the long period of the night. People usually remember the last one. Chalon was keen on remembering the middle one.

Unlike many of his peers, Chalon had curiosity about the ancient past, and worlds as well. This dream took place on the original planet Earth. It was the year 1960 or other. He saw that there was a young maiden in a strange facility. When she passed by the entrance, he read that it was an insane asylum. She was being taken out from there on a wheelchair. She was placed inside a vehicle, and from there taken to a military building.

The general who was looking at her frowned. He told one of his men, “How do we snap her out of it?”

“Just put her on the computer. That is what her handler stipulated,” explained the cadet.

Based on the uniform of the soldiers, the Ultimate Weapon said that they in the US. Most people in the world of Chalon had no physical records of Planet Earth. The world had been destroyed many years ago. Ironically, the only thing that survived of that world was the moon. It is in pieces, but its fragments still do moon things.

Now back to the 1960s. The soldiers and the doctor brought the girl in front of a computer. She blinked twice, and then said, “What? Can I play?”

“First you have to help us with this program,” said the doctor.

“I must know the nature of the program if I am to work with it,” said the girl.

They removed the straight jacket revealing her bony frame. The computer was somewhat of a behemoth. It was an IBM System/360. The program was written in Fortran. The girl looked at the program over the top. She took the nearby notes and referenced all the key components that were highlighted by the previous programmer. She bit her right index finger and pulled with her left hand her hair.

Shaking her head sadly, she said, “This is no good! If would be easier if we had the 370 hundred.”

The doctor took the hand of the girl. He removed it from her hair and said in a soothing voice, “Things are what they are. The 370 is not schedule to come out till next year.”

“Yes, but it would really, really…no matter. I will do what I can,” said the girl.

The girl started her work. The military personnel left her in the care of the doctor. One of the cadets said, “Shouldn’t we tell her what is going on?”

“The girl is nuts. If we strain her fragile nerves with information, she just might break and then it is all over,” said the general.

“But a woman? Is she truly the best we got?” asked the cadet.

“Woman? Man? Considering the gravity of the situation, we need not scoff at the source for help,” said the general. He added, “Should she fail to make any progress in the allotted time, we will tell her the truth.”

On the meantime, the girl was working on a different task. She was trying to create a monopoly program using Fortran. The doctor asked her, “How goes the task?”

“It’s going,” said the girl, “I just need to add all the lines of code from my original program. From there, I can pick up where I left off. Given a couple of months and I will finish.”

“I don’t think we have a couple of months. The sooner you complete it, the better,” said the doctor frowning.  

A day passed, and the girl had a gleeful smile on her face. It had been ages since she had touched a computer. She was both a patient and a prisoner at the asylum. She had been arrested because she was a hacker. During the trial, her condition deteriorated. Eventually, she was no longer even lucid enough to testify in her own defense. Instead of being sent to prison, she had been sent to an asylum. Over the years, she had gotten worse and worse till she was lethargic. It was only recently that her doctor realized that she needed computers to keep a hold on her sanity. She was at least talking, though the bodily harm was a bit disconcerting, but treatable, nonetheless.

Two days passed, and the military brass was getting concerned. In the end, the general decide to have a frank conversation with the girl. She was brought to him. He had a recorder already out. He said to her, “What you are about to see is top secret! You must not tell a soul!”

“Well, even if I did tell someone, nobody would believe me anyway,” said the girl.

The general played the movie. It showed a cylinder on top Las Vegas. It then shot the city with a strong gust of wind. The girl was impressed. She said, “Whoa! The production value of this movie is amassing. Who made it? Stanley Kubrick? Do you have Barbarella or Thunderball? They only show Disney films in the madhouse. The lack of variety is enough to drive one crazy.”

The general changed the tape and he showed another city. This time the cylinder dropped a bunch of dirt over the city of London. Somewhat concerned, the girl said, “There has to be a point to this right?”

The rocks being thrown over the city caused the cameraman to seek shelter. Other than being trapped indoors he was pretty much unharmed. The follow tape was in New Providence in The Bahamas. Instead of dropping earth, the camera showed a torrent of water. The camera person was swept up.

Frowning, the girl said, “That’s a little bit extreme for a movie don’t you think? The effect is easily duplicated with some water and some glass for separation.”

The general showed another tape from the Bahamas. This one was from a security surveillance from one of the hotels. It showed the entire hotel getting flooded. Some of the workers got swept away. The general continued as thus, showing different tapes of the devastation on the Bahamas. It eventually dawned on the girl that what she was looking at was real.

The last tape showed an American plane shooting down the spacecraft. When it struck the ground, it exploded releasing all it water cargo.

The girl took both her hands to her head. Looking down, and shaking her head, she said, “This can’t be real?”

“It is. This strange invader…seems to be trying to find a way to utterly eradicate us. It tried different elements, and now I fear what will happen when it tries fire. We have already alerted everyone,” said the general.

“Even the Reds?” asked the girl.

“Specially the Reds. This is a danger that affects us as an entire species. It would be foolish to wait and see what happens. We need you to complete that program so that we might be able to predict where it will strike next. Their spaceships go down easily enough, but we do not know how many they have. Till we discover the hiding spot of these Martians, we will only be able to act defensively,” said the general.

A week passed, and the girl was still not making progress. Frowning, she said, “IF only we had the 370.”

It was then when Chalon said to her using his mind, “There is no need to fret about that IBM computer. In a decade or two, it will become obsolete.”

“I don’t think we will have a decade or two, the way things are going,” said the girl.

The doctor saw her talking to herself, but chose to do nothing. He had other concerns on his mind. As long as the program progressed, nothing else mattered.

Chalon said, “Even if you get the computer, you will not complete the program on the allotted time. Since I do not want to see the fire, I will give you the final line of code you are missing. You can add it when they finally give you the computer you are looking for.”

The girl said, “I have pen and paper!!”

Chalon said, “The code is do equal j, coma col…”

Chalon gave her the long string of codes. During dreams, he was usually an unseen observer. He could also be a character, but he preferred to distance himself from the actions whenever possible. A month in the dream passed or a year. The passage of time in dreams is pretty hard to measure.

The alien spaceship did make an appearance. It burned an entire city to cinders. It disappeared before the fighter jets could get to it. The second time it showed up, instead of using an element, the ship shot a red beam of light. It completely destroyed absolutely everything, right down to the smallest bacteria. All that was left was a crater.

The scientists went to this site to investigate the type of energy beam. Whatever it was, it was radioactive. They assumed that the aliens were also relying on atomic energy. IF they could build a device to disrupt the core, they might be able to destroy the ship before it fired. This solution was at least more feasible than mobilizing the army. Still, it would take some time to develop an anti-alien defense system. The city that had been struck by the red beam was St. Petersburg. Needless to say, the Soviets were not pleased.

While the scientists were investigating the irradiated city and its surroundings, the spaceship made a surprise visit. Instead of shooting the red beam of light like they had expected, it shot a green light instead. Aside from giving the scientists a terrible fright it did not do much of anything. This return was a new development. Again, the spaceship returned, each time shooting a different beam of light at different wavelengths.

Meanwhile, the girl had completed the code. All that was left was to punch in the data to see if the computer shat out a pattern of future attacks. A team of 5000 was working on that. Each day new computers were added to the main system.

One day, the girl was talking with her doctor. The doctor asked the pertinent question in everyone’s mind, “What do you think they want?”

“Isn’t it obvious? They want to destroy all life as we know it,” said the girl.

“If that was the case, then why the beams of light?” asked the doctor.

“Who knows? Maybe…” said the girl. She looked at Chalon who shrugged his shoulders in response. He remembered in the dream something about the divine spark.

He then said to the girl, “The spaceship wants to free the divine spark out of humans, thus making them hollow vessels devoid of any spiritual matter.”

“What is your imaginary friend saying?” asked the doctor. At this point, he was ready to believe in just about anything.

“He says the aliens want to destroy our spiritual matter,” said the girl.

“That is nonsense! There is no such thing as a soul,” said the doctor laughing.

The girl chuckled and then said, “Just because you don’t believe in the bullet, it doesn’t make it any less real when you drop dead because of it.”

The following day the alien ship returned to the ruins of St. Petersburg. By now the entire Soviet army was waiting for it. They shot the spaceship down before it could do anything. A minute later, another ship appeared in the same spot of the one from before. It too was shot down, again, and again. By the 67^th ship, it was starting to get ridiculous.

The doctor who was watching the scene on a monitor commented, “If it is such an advanced race, why does it keep doing the same thing?”

“I don’t know. It would be automated. Perhaps it will keep running the same script till it completes its prime directives,” said the girl.

“How long do you think it will take before their computer crashes or it changes into a different gambit?” asked the doctor.

“Judging by their technology and cloaking skills, and their disregard for their own resources, I would say that we could be here all day, all week or an eternity or two,” said the girl.

The general who was in the conference room said, “If that were to happen, then it would be the end of the human race as we know it.”

After four hours of this type of skirmish, enough ships piled on to make shooting them with rockets a little bit more difficult. The pile of them provided enough cover for the spaceship to fire its white beam. It also targeted the tanks as well. The Americans watching the scene on the monitor looked quite alarmed. They called up the Soviets to see if they were in one piece. The Soviet general started emitting guttural sounds, and roars. It was only till days later that they heard from Moscow. The army soldiers had gone completely insane. They had lost all semblance of humanity and were eating one another like one of those bad zombie movies. The only difference was that the zombies were attacking one another as well. It was a pretty gruesome scene they had returned to.

It was around this point that Chalon had tapped out of the dream. He had a vague memory of forcing his eyes to open for a second before going to sleep once again. Whenever he was dreaming, he did not have a decent enough control over the nature of his dream. Most of the time he was a passenger on a train or an unwilling participant. Some of his siblings like Marduke were more active dreamers. It took a bit of training to manage a certain degree of control.

In the dream world, one had three basic skills to master. There was Titanology, Cinematography and Themelogy. The last one was the most basic. With proper mental focus, one could decide to stop having nightmares. This was the ground basis of the two other skills. How does one train to not have nightmares? It is simple. One has to decide not to have them. Once you decide, the brain does its little magic. Despite what people imagine, one has plenty of control over one’s body. The problem arises when one lets the automatic system and the amygdala make most of the decisions. The brain is a lazy second passenger. If one doesn’t make the effort to achieve the desired outcome, the brain will just not make it happen. It all boils down to freewill.

The second important skill to master is Titanology. If one finds oneself in a dangerous dream environment, one can summon allies to help them. They make take the form of familiar figures. The first person to master Titanology had familiars based on TV show characters. The final skill Cinematography focused on the manipulation of the dreamworld. These skills were the backbone of what later became the practice of vocalizing one’s aura. The vocalization of auras has become second nature to us. So much so that Titanology and its other children skills are no longer practiced or even remembered. Still, it is something good to be reminded of, especially if that person suffers from nightmares from time to time.

Not that nightmares or dreams are a common occurrence among our people. Dreaming has become an optional activity, like eating. Still, there is also something refreshing about dreaming from time to time.

Chalon ruminated on this and many other nonsensical dream related things. Eventually, he got out of the bath and decided to tackle his graveyard shift. The night was rather cool at the moment. A cold breeze from the North had just arrived at Sassari. As such, the temperature was 73 degrees. Still, the gusts of winds made the temperature feel a bit colder. At first Chalon had worn something a little cooler. The second he got out of the warm tent; a cold breeze graced his abdomen. Trembling, he returned inside to put on something that covered a little bit more skin. He putted on red robes, with a thick black sash tied up front. These robes were worn over white robes, with a long frilly white bow on the neck. Over it, he wore an orange jacket, with red ornamental patterns. The red robes mimicked the patterns but in yellow and black. The sleeves had two large decorative black buttons. The hat was orange and black, with yellow feathers.

He then took out a shovel and a pickaxe. He smiled and nodded as he saw his own reflection in the mirror.

As he was heading out, one of the clowns of the clan commented, “Not quite the subtle disguise.”

The shovel and pickaxe alone was proof enough of what Chalon was up to. It was common for most gypsy clans to raid the cemetery. This practice became more common during times of war. Traditionally, they only targeted the graves of their own ancestors. It was part of their burial ritual for the dead to dream, and to wait till they were called upon by the living. It was for this reason that when a person died, their death was explained to children as a prolonged sleeping spell. To aid in the resurrection, the bodies were never cremated. Spirits tended to cling onto this world a lot more if there was more of their physical remains on this world. This is part of the reason why the Egyptians preserved the bodies of the dead.

Since it was warring season, the clan was in need of the aid of one of their ancient ancestors. The ancestors were a capricious lot, and only a strong person could make them rise from their graves. It would also take a bit of persuasion to get them to help out your cause. It is common for necromancers to be up to similar games. Still, without freewill, a specter was no better than a zombie. As far as spirits go, the stronger their freewill the stronger their physical power. It was common for novice necromancers to force resurrect a fellow, only for the spirit to pass onto the next life out of sheer annoyance. Once a spirit passed on, no earthy force could summon them back.  

Chalon made his way out of camp and into the entrance of the city. The night watch was mainly located in front of the makeshift theater. There was not a lot of people roaming the streets. Those that did roam were on foot. They were not keen on going on horseback, because of the local ordinances forbidding noise so late at night. Even the guards had to abide by such a rule. The plated armors were traded for the soft sounding leather boots. This was a decrease in offensive capabilities. Still, the nightguards were more rouges than soldiers. Whenever there was anyone who dared to disturb the peace, they were never heard from again. This is just a tad exaggeration. They were simply thrown in jail, no questions asked. Everything would get sorted out in the morning.

One of those nightguards noticed Chalon’s pickaxe and shovel and decided to follow. He whispered, “Doing a little digging?”

Chalon stopped and gently placed both items on the floor. He then took out his board to write, “Don’t worry, these are just for show. I plan to dig with my hands.”

“There is no need to go overboard,” said the nightguard grinning, “Whatever business you have can wait till morning.”

“I suppose it can,” wrote Chalon, “But I must make the most efficient use of my time. If I leave it till the morrow, then I won’t have time tomorrow to do everything I need to do.”

“Makes sense,” said the nightguard. He started leaving when he stopped and said, “You are not heading to the cemetery?”

Chalon nodded in response.

“Has someone died? You need permission in order to burry an outsider in our territory,” said the nightguard.

“I am not burying, but unburying,” wrote Chalon.

“Huh? Now that’s a first,” said the nightguard.

“It has nothing to do with graverobbing, I assure you,” wrote Chalon. He added, “It is a gypsy thing.”

“I was not aware that people of your ilk were buried here,” said the nightguard growing curious.

“This is an ancient graveyard. It is common for us to open them from time to time to add items from living relatives,” wrote Chalon.

This was indeed the truth. Over the course of the week, he had acquired some items to offer to the ancient dead. The last ones he had acquire were the bouquet and the bottles of blood.

The information Chalon had provided had sealed his fate. The guard now fully committed said, “I will come with you to observe. I must make certain you do not disturb any other graveyards with your heretical rituals.”

“The rites of Arasa were not always predominant,” wrote Chalon, “Things change with time.”

“As must all other things,” said the nightguard solemnly.

The nightguard went by the name of Henri Binet. He was 17 years old, of medium stature with short blonde hair, and brown eyes. His family specialized in making champagne. Since he was the youngest in a family of seven, nobody expected much of him. To prove himself, he had tried to become a knight. He had the knowledge and the dexterity. His prime failure was in his inability to get along well with animals. For reasons he did not understand, the horses seemed to shy away from him. One time, he had a nasty fall when trying to ride a horse. He had surprised his mount by jumping on top of him. The horse when on one of those frenzied jumping fits. It was quite a thrill for the stable boy watching the show. Not so much for Henri. After getting a nice kick in the forehead, Henri gave up on the whole knighthood idea. Those that did not ride on horses were considered foot soldiers. As such, the best salary that Henri could aspire to was that of a nightguard.

It was common knowledge that bad things occurred at night. It was for this reason that there were a lot more nightguards, than regular guards. Henri had never been much of a morning person, and so he fell into the nightguard duty. Curious by nature, he jumped at the opportunity to breathe some excitement into his bored existence.  

Henri brought his lantern closer to get a better look at Chalon. Under the light, he noted Chalon’s dark complexion, and black eyes. Under the light, Chalon’s eyes had a faint green glow. It reminded Henri of the glow emitted by animal eyes in the darkness. When he was younger, he used to hunt animals with his father. Henri lowered the lantern as not to look into Chalon’s eyes.

He then said, “Well, carry on then.”