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Introduction:

It is common for people to imagine that they need to interact with a person for a lifetime to get to know them. I disagree. As an Oculus, I regularly sort through the jumbled messes that my subordinates call Observations. After draining the pulp, I usually arrive at a pretty concise character study for each person. I truly wish that my underlings would be more efficient. They tend to linger on the most banal of things.

Truly, it would be easier if they just strictly eyeballed situations and people over the top, before returning home. It is rare for people to be so interesting. A perfect example of banality, and waste of time, and resources were all the Observations regarding Chalon. He was as common as white bread from beginning to the end of the mission. This is just a testament to his talents. As an infiltrator biological weapon, had he stood out he would have been a failure.

Chalon is not the type of person who enjoys failing at something. I will go into more detail, about his character, and why it makes him one of the most mundane individuals in our group. I am submitting this Observation to the Speed Demon to judge whether we should give the go ahead, with the movie we have planned for him based on 27,000 hours of Observations.

While his siblings went on their silly quests, Chalon simply spent his time doing necromancy and silly plays. I give this report of a typical day in the life of Chalon, only to illustrate his lack of impact on the entire mission as a whole. This is not to remove merit, where merit deserves. Still, with a couple of small incidents here and there, Chalon did practically the same thing every day.

This is why I say that one only needs a day of Observation to get to know a person. By Observing their happy routines, you truly know everything one needs to know about them. The sample date chosen for this report is Day 17, Month 8, Year 17. It is just after the natural death of Berthame. The Gypsies are currently camped outside the city of Sassari.

When I say “Gypsy”, I mean it in the loosest term possible. The word gypsy was first coined in the world of Saturnastra about 200 years ago. Berthame had just solidified his little empire, and he was trying to make sense of the different types of people living inside of it. One day, a traveling merchant band arrived to Veragerung. They all belonged to the same family, and they traveled together, as most bands usually do.

Traditionally, merchant bands travel in familiar groups. They are not too keen on sharing any of the spoils, outside their unit. Anyhow, this merchant family happened to have olive skin, black hair and black eyes. When Berthame saw them, he chuckled and said, “So, they got thieving gypsies in this world as well.”

Over the course of decades, it became fashionable to hate upon any merchant group that had such a skin, hair and eye color combination. It did not matter if they were related by blood or not. If they resembled what Berthame considered a gypsy, then society considered them thieving, bastards. Once you make a petit malice socially acceptable, it becomes almost impossible to remove such prejudices from the day to routine of the average fellow. I mention this, so that you understand the behavior of the people outside of Chalon’s gypsy clan.

As for the clan, it was known as the Godieda. The last name was a fusion of the word God and Ieda. Ieda is the name of the local Goddess of Lies. According to family legend, the Goddess had taught the founder of the clan how to bend the truth. This skill was polished and refined throughout the succeeding generations. During the chosen sample date, there are about 23 family units in the group. There are about 279 people living and traveling together. The current head of the clan at the moment is an unexpired man of 52, named Harold. He was chosen due to a popular vote, after his great, grandfather died of old age some 8 years ago.

His daughter is Chalon’s adopted mother. Her name was Estrid. She found Chalon pretending to be a wee, baby in the woods. She named our boy Chalon due to his psychic influences. He made her believe that Chalon was a good name for the baby, even though there was not a person alive in this world that had such a name. After a normal infancy period, Chalon found his place within the Clan, and he fell into his boring, nondescript happy routine.

Time 00:01

Before I begin, here are some basic Observations about Chalon’s physicality. For people who lack eyes or any means of digital recording, Chalon wore the skin of a 17-year-old human male. He had olive skin, long black hair and black eyes. Like his Monkey brother, he had a thing for wearing dresses. Both were under the impression that dresses were the proper identifier for magic users. Though truth be told, only 16 percent of all living male magic users in this world wore dresses. I suppose the core of this fashion statement could be traced to the Tower of Zuberus.

All the magic users who had never entered the tower made the effort to dress like normal people. Chalon’s hood had decorative purple flowers. Aside from the spell components and the necromancy bells and coins, Chalon had a rune saber. These were not items he had taken from our old world. Rather, he had acquired them over the course of the 17 years he had spent there. The rune saber was sharp, with not a single nick in sight. This was a true testament to the easy life Chalon had enjoyed till now.

Lady Godiva once said: There is nothing worse than problems one creates for oneself. Chalon knew this family moto by heart, and he lived by it. Despite his years, Chalon stood at a mere 5’3’’; not by luck, but by design. Being short in our world is a fashion statement, not a disadvantage. The only items he had taken from the old world where a ball jointed doll and a pink unicorn cat plush.

The doll was customizable. Over the years, it had acquired different types of makeups, arms, legs, and faces. The only thing that had not changed was the pair of eyes. It is well known that the eyes are the window to the soul. It thus stems from reason, that if one preserves the windows, one keeps the soul it should rightfully stay. Then again, this is just a personal opinion. Nothing to take in earnest.

As of now, the doll had straight blonde hair, some pearly ornaments on the head and an ornamented purple, pearly dress. For bracelets, the doll has a couple of ribbons. The cat on the other hand has a white bowtie.

Both were relics that were cared for, and cherished. Like his mother before him, Chalon would tuck both the cat and the doll into bed together. He would then put a cover over their frame, as if they could actually feel cold. The pair of toys could not feel cold, or warmth, but it was the thought that counted.

Before settling down to sleep, Chalon took care to spread the bedsheets, with two towels on top of one another. When he made a motion to get inside, he stopped and looked at the nightstand. Something was missing. He opened the door of his bedroom and went outside of his trailer bedroom. Since he was the grandson of the leader, he had a trailer instead of a tent to call his home. He passed through the sleeping bodies and made his way towards the nearby supply cart. He got from there a flask, which he filled with cool water from the river. While he filled his bottle, Chalon’s thought did not take any coherent form. They would jump from a rock song he liked, to a scene from a book he barely remembered. When he filled his bottle, he got up and returned to his bedroom. His eyes wandered all over the familiar items.

He had a nightstand, a dresser, and a closet. The roof was low, but it did not matter considering his lack of height. The bed was large enough for him to spread both his arms. It occupied the entire room. He placed on the nightstand his bottle of water. He entered his bed and he removed his underwear. All he was sporting was a silky nightgown, and even that would be discarded the moment he was in earnest about going to bed. Like his mother, Chalon was in the habit of sleeping inside his birthday suit. It was a comforting experience for him, but the only downside was that he had to clean the sheets more often to keep them fresh. On this particular night, the bedsheets were fresh as daisies. In fact, he had used a soap whose prime component had been daisies.

He nestled inside his bed and he placed two pillows under his arms. His eyes changed color and he made a motion as if to type on an imaginary laptop. Laptops had been discontinued millenniums ago, but some of our people found the idea of them to still be interesting. Chalon did most of his creative work before going to bed. In the morning, people just got in the way. There was just too much exterior outside noise. He found that humans usually had calmed down by midnight. The windows rattled a little bit, as a cold wind moved the little bedroom cart. It was soon followed by a slight drizzle, and then a continued amount of rain. Chalon looked to the window, and then to the doll. The doll pretended not to notice his stare. She was not used to dealing with Lady Godiva’s brats. As for the rainbow cat, it opened its eyes, and yawned a little before settling back down again. The cat had not been originally designed with eyes. When it opened them, they seemed to be made of glass.

This may seem a little bit strange to the uninitiated, but you give enough time to any man-made item, and it comes alive. People are far too much into the habit of replacing the old with the new. If old things lasted so long, it must have been for a reason. This is not to say that I am not a fan of new technologies. Rather, I find that some old things are hard to replicate like toys and architecture. Now, back to the story at hand. Chalon had prepped himself for his most creative meditation. He had about an hour left before it was time to go to sleep.

Chalon furred his eyebrow, as most people do when they are trying to picture something with their mind’s eyes. Thoughtless people imagine that closing one’s eyes is the best way to meditate. This is further from the truth. The moment you close your eyes for even a couple of minutes, the brain starts wiring itself for shutdown.

Chalon closed his eyes for a second longer than he had planned. He yawned, four times and it made his eyes water a bit. He moved his bedcovers a bit to blow his nose on the thin part of it. He then simmered down to try to get some actual work done.

He started writing into his mental mind this:

“Ideas for a new spell…”

He stopped air typing for a second. He then thought, Well, the elementals are pretty much done with. I suppose I could try adding new shapes to them. Still, this would only be cosmetic changes, and it would not improve on the actual spell, overall. I could try mixing and matching two existing spells and see what comes out. However, this is not always pretty. Mmm…have we done anything with lasers lately? Most magic people do nothing with light magic. They think that light is only used for warmth and illumination.

Aside from serving as a glorified flashlight, most light magic is just an offshoot of illusion spells. I think I am going to focus for the moment on the color yellow. It is useful for slowing down the growth of plants. Mmm… I wonder. I think maybe if I isolate the typical blue light and give it a form to catch the attention of the victim. Just maybe, they can experience a little bit of euphoria.

Just as he was meditating on the matter. A small glow of yellow light was manifesting before Chalon. He was slowly giving it form till it became a little bird. The bird was slowly changing. Eventually, it became a little Parrot. Chalon was partial to parrots. The glow dissipated, as the effect had been done before. Getting the same effect, by different means was not something that particularly appeal to him. No, Chalon every night was trying to reinvent the wheel. As with most spells, the limit was his imagination.

Aside from practical knowledge, Chalon was not very imaginative. He sighed a little, before putting his left hand to his face. He decided to turn his attention to other matters. On the following morning, he had more morgue duties to attend to. There was also the matter of the play. Chalon had been desiring to see one of his silly works on stage. The problem was that nobody seemed willing to indulge him. He had revised some works here and there, and he had published a couple under his own name.

Still, he had disowned them, because they were not what he considered his own. Any minor tweaks was enough to get him discouraged. It was for this reason that he was doing the magic thing, instead of the plaything that truly amused him. The rain stopped a bit, and the clouds parted somewhat. A strong light entered the window. This made Chalon grimace a bit. Due to the position of the Titan moon, it was going to be hard for him to actually sleep. Despite the fact that his windows had blinds, they were at a bit of an angle. This made it somewhat possible for some light of the moon to enter his room.

It was useful for building up his mana, but for not much else. He sat up and placed a couple of small pillows against the window. With this, he removed whatever light could fall directly onto his face. He then went to lie back down on his bed. He looked towards his nightstand and noted the writing machine. He lugged on top of his belly, the large contraption. He decided to get some other work done for a change. The theater manager had asked him to pitch some dialogue for a romance. Chalon had made some progress the day before. He read what he had written over the top.

The main people in the scene were a couple named Alison and Sir Thomas. Alison had discovered a terrible secret. Chalon had originally written this:

Alison: You have been following me all this time?

Sir Thomas: Only to protect you my dear! I did it out of love, with no malice intended.

Alison: So, when you came to Arcadia?

Sir Thomas: Yes, it was only because the witch had tipped me off.

Chalon stopped reading at this juncture. He thought, Is this a little bit too on the nose? Mmm, the manager is always telling me to simplify the dialogue. But this is something the audience already knows. I don’t know…

Chalon removed the paper and started writing a new version. He did not ball up his previous work, in case the manager preferred it. As for the writing machine, it is somewhat similar to our typewriter. While ours used ink ribbons, this one used sharper letters to produce a type of etching. The special vellum had two layers. The top one was white. When this surface was etched away, it revealed a dark bottom. This produced the impression of the letters. It wasn’t the most practical form of typing, but it got the job done.

Chalon started typing as thus:

Alison: I said get out.

Sir Thomas: Why? What’s the matter?

Alison: You know what you did. I don’t ever want to see you again.

Sir Thomas: I understand, but you need to know my reasons.

Alison: I don’t care. Just go!

Sir Thomas: I love you.

Alison: Go!

Chalon stopped a moment, to meditate on this new version. It did get the point across, and it did not insult the audience’s intelligence. Worse comes to worse, he would have written a version that literally explained what had occurred in scene one. Chalon ate his nose over the top. He had developed this nasty habit from his mother. Whenever she was thinking too much, she would lower her nose to her mouth. It is a grotesque gesture, that is best seen, and not described. Chalon yawned a bit and shifted his legs beneath his bedsheets.

He thought on the scene that had come before. Alison and Sir Thomas had just decided they were going to have a baby. While going home, she had run into the witch. The witch had asked her if she had found the person she was looking for in Arcadia. Alison had said, yes. It was then when the witch had blurted thoughtlessly, that is was a good thing she had given Sir Thomas the heads up. Chalon thought that Sir Thomas should have been honest about how he had met Alison. A relationship based on a lie, cannot last. At least, this is what commonly said in the romance books he had to read from time to time. Romance wasn’t his particular cup of tea. Still, it was necessary to read up on romantic dribble for the purpose of the plays.

It was at this moment that Chalon’s thoughts drifted elsewhere. His brother had never had a problem getting the girls. Despite all those years, his little birdies bought all his little lies. Chalon thought, as long as there isn’t anyone to disprove you, then you should be all set. It was then when he decided on a different line of dialogue:

Alison: Get out of my house right now.

Sir Thomas: This is my house too! What is the matter with you!

Alison: I know the truth.

Sir Thomas: It was only a peck on the cheek, and she was my cousin. There is no need to for you to go ballistic.

Alison: Not that. I mean..!

Sir Thomas: Oh! The dog. Sorry, it was rabies. There was nothing we could do about it.

Alison: Why were you in Arcadia?

Sir Thomas: I was sightseeing. A friend recommended the place to me. I wanted to play shepherd for a few days.  

Alison: You don’t know Madame Le Morte?

Sir Thomas: By reputation, more or less. Though, I must have spoken to her in the past to ask for some advice.

Alison: Advice with what?

Sir Thomas:

Before he could write another sentence. Chalon heard a banging on his window. A voice outside said, “Stop messing around and go to sleep!”

Chalon stopped typing and he reached for his board and chalk. Since he was in the habit of not talking to the local wildlife, he scribbled down what he wanted to say. The first thing he wrote was: Fuck you, what I do with my own time, in my own bedroom is my business, you perverted SOB!

He read this line over the top, and then erased it to write something a little bit more polite. This time, the board said, “Thank you for reminded me of my bedtime. Now go fall off a ditch or die of alcohol poison.”

Chalon erased the last two lines. He opened the window and showed the board to the person outside. The person was the nephew of his adopted mother. His name was Jason, but everyone called him Jay, and he was 3 years Chalon’s senior. It was his regular habit to be a bit of a bother for Chalon. Whenever he saw Chalon busy working, Jay took it upon himself to interrupt him. Chalon held the chalkboard in his hand.

Jay said, “Bring it a little closer for me to read.”

Chalon only inched it a little closer.

When Jay drew within range, Chalon smacked him around a bit with the board, but only lightly. Laughing, Jay said, “This is the thanks I get for reminded you to go to bed, before 1:30.”

Chalon looked at the time, by staring at the Titan moon. Indeed, it was way past his bedtime. He closed the window on Jay without apologizing for his mild case of violence. As for Jay, he narrowed his eyes for a moment before going on his way.

Our dear Chalon was quite moderately violent at times. So, this is normal behavior, that the people in the clan are known to expect. Chalon did as he was told. He removed the typewriter from his bed and placed it beside the nightstand. He then blew out all the candles. He reached into one of the drawers and took out a small shell. The shell belonged to a dark cerith. Inside the interior of the shell, there were some small runes. He breathed magic into it, and it started to produce a constant, familiar sound. A second shell was brought out. This one belonged to a chambered nautilus. He placed it over a small writing table that was parallel to his bed. He angled the shell to be facing his crotch. When he activated the enchantment on this one, it started to release a constant stream of air. The sound of the first shell reminds me of an air conditioner, while the second was a ventilator.

When we were indeed trying to sleep, we require certain familiar constant sounds. Both sounds were something that were familiar to Chalon, and he could not sleep without them. He recreated the effect of them, using a bit of wind magic, and some illusion spells. As long has he could trick his brain, Chalon could manage to sleep for real. Our man was one of the few fellows who was not afraid of falling asleep.

I too tend to indulge in sleep from time to time, however, I do so in halves, like the noble shark. Once Chalon had both familiar sounds, there was but one thing left to do in order to sleep. Chalon had picked up this habit from his mother. He started to pray. It is common for us to keep our religions to ourselves. As such, we do not show them in our pictures. Still, it is interesting to note the final part of the prayer. It is designed to summon 4 guardians to guard the four pillars of your bed. It ends by saying your name, and anyone else included in the prayer.

More importantly is the line: Do not be afraid.

With the barrier field, Chalon felt himself safe enough to indulge in the ever-elusive art of trying to sleep. Sleep is such tricky business. When you are trying to sleep, you are not able. At other times, you fall asleep without realizing it.

When he finished his short prayer. Chalon entered his bed sheets. He removed his night gown and he arranged his pillows. He had one for the head, the other for the arm, and the last for between his legs. Chalon closed his eyes and started to earnestly try to sleep. While he did, his mind started to wander a bit. His main thought was punctuated by the sound of a catchy guitar, with some electronic synthesizer tools.

Before coming into this world, Chalon had been a bit of an avid gamer. Since gaming was not a skill that derived him any money, he had switched to theater magic and necromancy. It was during this late of night that he missed his old hobby. He would see familiar faces, and he would imagine them in different situations. From time to time, a thought regarding his latest reading would pop up. Chalon always read over the top whatever book he ran into. However, he only truly processed the information during the progress of falling asleep.

One of the books he had read yesterday was about a little princess. It was a biography about one of the ancient nobilities from the Western Kingdom that nobody bothered to talk about. The story of the maiden had started when he father had wed his lover, after divorcing his wife. The problem was that the lover was a lady of ill repute. Meanwhile, her mother was being a bit of a heel because of the divorce. One day, the princess remembered how she had swallowed a glass bead when she was little. Her mother had told her that she had passed it. However, the princess was suddenly not certain about it.

Due to her fixation on the bead, the princess develops a type of glass delusion. She thinks that any misstep could cause the glass bead to break, thus killing her. From then on, she takes all sorts of precautions. She would not even allow people to touch her. Chalon thought of the glass princess, imagining that she was made of porcelain. Whenever she touched something, Chalon imagined the sound of porcelain scraping against the surface. His thoughts drifted to another matter that was similar to book titled “The Strange Case of the Crystal Princess”.

The day before a man had come to camp. After getting drunk, he told an interesting story about a man who had been saved from execution at the last second. Before the ax had fallen on his head, the Judges had come to acquit the man. The fellow had only found out about this following day. He had fainted the moment he had been kneeled down, with his head wrapped inside a black sack. When he awoke, the man had been convinced that he had been indeed decapitated. It was only through some luck that the head had not fallen over. Ever since then, the fellow had been wearing neck braces to keep his head firmly attached to his neck.

Chalon chuckles thinking, Every man has his theme.

It was then when he felt a familiar sensation. Narrowing his eyes, Chalon languidly rose from his bed. He reached under his bed for his chamber pot. When he finished micturating, he threw the pot’s content out the window.

Chalon heard outside, a person cursing. The person in the exterior yelled, “Watch were you empty that piss bucket! You asshole!”

Chalon quickly scrawled on his chalkboard, “Sorry, my bad.”

“It’s fine,” said the fellow, “It only splattered my boots a bit.”

Chalon underlined the word sorry and showed his chalkboard to the fellow passing by. When the man left, Chalon chuckled as he saw the man walking away. Before returning to bed, Chalon grabbed a cloth, and he poured a bit of water on it. He used it to clean his lizard. Once he felt his undercarriage sparkly clean, Chalon return to bed. Cleaning himself with water after every discharge was a silly habit he had inherited from his mother. Though as a man, it was completely unnecessary. 

When Chalon settled down again, he noted the time and regretted the need to have to micturate. Whenever he got up, it meant starting the progress of falling asleep all over again. At this rate, he would only catch 8 hours of sleep at the most. For those not up to date with the style of this world, I suppose I should mention one oddity. It has about 30 hours, per day. On average people sleep for 10 to 12 hours, while they are active for 18 hours.

Once again, Chalon closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep. This time he was sleeping while facing the right window. On the wooden wall, there was a creepy painting of a maiden with wild hair. Behind her, there is a vampire lord giving her a hair pendant. The vampire was not handsome, but a black robed weirdo, with ashen skin, no nose, and sharp claws and teeth. The black eyes, with golden pupils was just the icing on the cake. Chalon was usually more comfortable sleeping towards the left. However, since his arm was falling asleep, he tried to sleep on his right. The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was that thing.

Chalon tried in vain to fall asleep. At most, he could only cause himself to fall into unconsciousness. It was only when he stretched his right hand a bit, did he manage to relax. During a relaxed state, people normally do not focus their thoughts. They just appear and disappear naturally. You can tell that a person is not thinking by the way they have their brow. People tend to imperceptibly furrow it, whenever they are trying to picture something. In his relaxed state, Chalon thought of the last rib of his adopted cousin, Kattie, also known as Kay. The nails had a good look to them, for somebody how used to bite them, instead of cutting them with a scissor. From there, he thought of the red crystal of the Sacred Mask. It unbalanced somewhat the entire composition. It was a ruby, while the rest of the mask had standard diamonds.

Sleep finally overtook him, with this one last thought. It is not often that we remember our dreams. Though we have a machine that records them, for future watch and mild amusement. Chalon did not require such a contraption. He was one of the few people who remember all his dreams, for better or for worse. Sometimes it took him a little longer to recall the dream, but he eventually remembered it. His mind interpreted dreams like any other type of memory. This night the dream was not particularly pleasant or even remotely entertaining for him. As for me, I found the first dream he remembered quite humorous.

The dream followed the adventures of Chalon in dragon form. He was flying through the air, having a grand old-time burning villages. Suddenly, he felt a need to micturate. When he tried to do so, his mother suddenly appeared and said, “You cannot pee!”

“But I really got to go,” protested Chalon.

“You must fight back, you cannot, you must not,” said Chalon’s mother.

Chalon flew away from his mother, and he entered a small body of water. He imagined she could not guess his intentions. Once again, he tried to go to the bathroom and again his mother did not let him do so. Eventually, Chalon awoke with a strong desire to micturate.

He had vague memories of the dream, and a not so happy expression on his face. This dream may seem strange to those unfamiliar with Lady Godiva’s eccentricities. She was the type of fellow who would hug you, only to bite your shoulder. Chalon had seen a similar scene play out before involving his mother and his uncle. Whenever the poor fellow tried to evacuate, Lady Godiva would tell him not to do so, and to fight the urge.

The memory of this returned to Chalon this morning and for some reason it made him smile.

He looked out the window and noted the position of the moon. Since he felt wide awake, he decided to get up and do something. He had already slept a decent 7 hours. Anything more, and it would have just been a little bit too much for his taste.

Time 09:00

Chalon opened his left eye a little, as he struggled to get enough energy to get out of bed. The first thing he did was roll over to his left side to snuggle against the two pillows some more. He then reached into the air, pealed it off a bit to open his item bind. All our people have little item binds, and we each summon what we so desire in a particular way. Some people create the illusion of turning over the corner of a page. While others prefer the flashy portal effect. As for Chalon, to outsiders it seemed as if he made something appear out of thin air.

He held in his hand one of those archaic devices people used to communicate with. Some of the children had a fondness for vintage toys and games. Chalon turned on the little device by tapping on the screen. He then looked through all the little round images on the surface, till he found the one he wanted. The game he summoned was quite rudimentary. The whole purpose of the game was to collect clothing, so you could collect more clothing. A lot of games in the old days had a similar, repetitive format that certain groups found endearing. It was always get this to get more of the same. Chalon played this silly game for a bit till he was awake enough to get out of bed. Before making the effort, he putted away this little game, the doll and the plushie.

Chalon slowly rose from his bed. He lightly felt the floor with his feet. He immediately pushed them back up when he felt something beneath his toes. He lighted a candle to see what was below. He breathed in a sigh of relief when he noted that it was just a very small, feather. He reached for the feather and smelled it. The feather belonged to a dove. Chalon remembered that the day before he had seen those feathers around the camp. Doves were considered to be a bit of a pest in the city of Sassari. It was common to see falconers making their rounds, trying to control the overpopulation.

Chalon dropped the feather and started waking up in earnest. The first thing he did was go to pick up his toothbrush, paste, a towel, and a change of clothing. There was a well near the camp. It was a bit of a chore for most gypsies. Bucket by bucket, Chalon washed his body with cold water, and he washed his teeth as well. The one thing he did not do was shave. He did not shave because growing a beard was optional for our species.

I have a nice little beard growing here, and it is quite spacious and bushy. Sometimes I like to braid it. I have even styled it in such a way as to spell the word beard. It is truly quite amusing. Mustaches not so much. They get in the way of eating your food. Anyhow! Back to Chalon. This reminds me. I suppose I should explain the name Chalon. It is the same name of one of those dead languages. It is pronounced the same way as you do Shalom, but with an N sound at the end.

Now, back to the matter at hand. Just as Chalon was finishing his libations, he was met up by Kay. She was carrying a bucket, to acquire water for he breakfast. She noted Chalon wrapped in a bath towel but said nothing. She was used to such indecency. Sure, Chalon could have bathed in his room, but it was a lot quicker to get this basic part of the day done and over with. When he was decent, he went to the center of the camp. His adopted mother Estrid and some other maidens were just finishing the communal breakfast.

They had a bunch of rocks that had been heated by wood. The cinders had been removed. Then on top of the boiling rocks, more rocks were placed. Over them, they had placed clams, pork, beef and chicken. To trap the steam, they had used branches. When the food was just at its point, Estrid rung the bell. From all the tents and trailers, an army of hungry men, women and children emerged to eat breakfast. Aside from the meats, there were steamed potatoes, and backed breads. The maidens served those gathered, before getting food for themselves. This was done so to prevent food related fighting.

Since Chalon was one of the first assembled there, he was able to choose his meat. Estrid knew that Chalon did not liked rare meat. As such, she gave him a well done, thin piece of steak, a chicken breast, and some potatoes. This gypsy clan in specific had a thing for potatoes. Whenever they went, they always bought potatoes. Most of their meals included at least four different types of potatoes.

For this particular meal, Chalon had received a piece of Jewel Yam, a Rose Finn Apple, and a Purple Majesty potato. When he came to the table, his cousin Kay already had for him a bottle of water. Chalon always forgot to get some, or he never got water because Kay always had a bottle ready for him. Kay was Jay’s twin sister. She had a slender frame, straight black hair, and a round face with even features. Her most interesting feature was her eyes. She had a partial heterochromia. A wedge of both her eyes was brown, instead of black. It was so minor, that barely anyone took notice.

She sat beside Chalon to eat her breakfast. Kay had always found Chalon appealing. However, her pride had never allowed her to express her true feelings for him. She felt that she would lose power in the relationship if she initiated something. As for Chalon, he either did not know or chose not to notice.

The first thing that Chalon attacked were the potatoes. The batch he had gotten were particularly sweet. Some were crunchy, while others soft, and the red one was crumbly. When he finished the potatoes, he acquired a piece of bread. Each table usually had a loaf of bread in the middle. Bread always went well with everything. He placed inside the bread the chicken breast which he ate with gusto. As for the steak, he ate it alone after removing the pieces of fat he did not like. The pieces he moved aside were quickly picked up with a fork by Kay. She was not a picky eater. While Chalon ate, he every so often drank from a pitcher of water. Chalon was a heavy water drinker, just like his mother. Unlike her, he always preferred water over any other type of fruity drink or sodas for that matter.

Chalon did not linger much over his food. While the people around him took their time eating, Chalon ate as if his plate would be taken away at any moment. This is a commonality in our world. We picked up this habit from the same woman who raised all of us. The reason for doing so, is simple. We simply do not like eating cold or warm food. Most food starts getting cold as soon as it is removed from the kettle, oven or whatever. You have about 10 to 15 minutes to eat before the food become inedible. This measure is not necessary for cold salads, or fruits. Even so, the habit sticks, but for the opposite reason. Nobody can stomach a warm salad, and there is no such thing as warm ice cream.

With his meal concluded Chalon left for town to buy supplies. Every day the gypsies went into the city to stock up on items. Since they were not allowed to enter with their carts or wagons, each person had to carry back whatever they could hold. As such, it usually took about a month for them to be ready to up and leave to a new locality. There were notable exceptions to this norm, but this only occurred in the isolated city of Dokai. Just going up there was quite a trip. Most humans could not linger up there because of the altitude sickness.

On this particular day, Chalon was tasked with buying spell components and other gimmicks. Aside from theater magic, this gypsy clan had an affinity for necromancy. The bodies they always experimented with rarely belonged to the locals. Rather, they used their ancestors who had sticky souls, as we liked to call them. Magic rituals were needed in order to help them maintain their powers. They would only be summoned during times of great need.

Like most cities of its type, Sassari had fortification walls. It also included a couple of guard towers. The largest guard tower was found inside the city. It loomed over the market, casting a dark shadow over the populous. Just like every other city, Sassari had a mandatory dragon tower. This dragon tower served as a virtual reminder of the might and power of Veragerung. It was always placed in the market district, which was the lifeblood of all cities in the Kingdom.

As for the exterior walls, they were devoid of any ornamentation. They served a pure, practical purpose. It had the gates, moats, the killing fields, the keeps and the stairs. All visitors usually had to pass through the killing fields before being allowed entry into the city. It was there were a small tent was set up, with a magistrate holding interviews. The magistrate was not an army official. However, at his signal any person who stood before him would get pelleted by arrows.

There was about five rotating Magistrates. Since they were paid enough to care, bribery only provided a swift death for those who attempted to enter the city without permission or a travel permit. Chalon joined the line just as the sun was starting to rise. The gypsies always started the day before sunrise, because there was plenty of work to be done. While Chalon waited in line, the person behind kept staring at his green robes. Chalon normally dressed black to intimidate people, as most mages usually did. However, when he was keen on keeping people at ease he would wear green robes instead. The back of the robes had an embroidered message in English that read “I am Mute, so be nice.”

Muteness was different in this world, than in others. In more advanced civilizations, it is common to minimize and bully people with some infirmity. In this world, muteness was seen as something positive. For women, it was seen as a mark of chastity and good temperament. For men, it was a sign of holiness. This general trend was started some 753 years ago. Followers of the Goddess of Heke were always frustrated by the fact that when she manifested, she never said a word to them. Overtime, this strange behavior of the Goddess started a trend among her followers. Other cults followed in suit. Even within the magic community, there were certain silent magicians who insisted on never uttering a word to cast their magic. Overall, there were only five true silent magicians. Chalon was one of them.

Casting magic without using words was something hard to manage within the magical community. Magic words were far too ingrained in the magical systems. As such, it was hard for local mages to separate magic, from the written word, which is a social construct. In reality, one need not speak a single word to create the desired magical effect.

The person behind Chalon tapped his shoulder. Chalon pretending not to notice. The man eventually tugged at Chalon’s hood before saying, “Excuse me, can I have a word with you?”

Chalon sighed, and then turned around a bit. Not completely, so that he could make certain that nobody would skip ahead of him. Chalon wrote down on his chalk board, “What do you want?”

The man behind Chalon looked at him from head to toe. Based on Chalon’s face, he had all the traces of being related to the gypsies. The man said to Chalon, “I don’t know how to read.”

Chalon erased his words. He then drew on the board an arrow and a person playing with himself. He erased his drawing, and he thought a bit as to how to illustrate the fact that he was not interested in hearing the person out. After thinking a bit, Chalon drew a person hanging from a tree.

When Chalon showed the drawing to the man, the person remarked, “Never mind then. Sheesh!”

All in all, the literacy rate in the city was much higher than in the towns and villages. Since the people in line tended to be outlanders, the lot of them did not know how to read. Sassari had one of the highest rate of literacy. About 67 percent of the people living there knew how to read and write. The place with the highest rate of literacy was naturally the capital city Veragerung. About 98 percent of the people living in the capital knew how to read and write, and from within that group 45 percent had higher education. The people in Veragerung were not brutes, despite popular belief.  

Chalon walked a couple of steps forward. Since it was the early hours, there were fewer people. Despite this fact, the line was progressing somewhat slowly. The Magistrate manning the station was still attempting to wake up. The Magistrate went by the name of Shore of Sassari. He had inherited the title and position of Magistrate from his father. Normally, Shore would handle the noon shift, but his father was not feeling particularly well so now Shore had double duty.

Recognizing Chore, Chalon waved with his chalkboard to get the man’s attention. Chore did notice and he then whispered something to the guard. The guard came to Chalon and took him ahead of everyone into the city. Since Chalon was a familiar face, interviewing him felt to Chore somewhat of a formality. This special treatment got a lot of people envious and there were even a few angry remarks.

Chalon flinched a little as he felt all that negative emotion being thrown on his direction. He instinctively casted a mirror ward, to protect himself from the evil eye. The evil eye is a real type of thing. It is born from a person’s negative emotions aimed at another. The strongest emotion that gives a proper form to the Evil Eye is the feeling of Envy. The people waiting in line did not want Chalon’s special treatment, rather they wanted Chalon not to have any. It is interesting how such a small, insignificant thing can inspire the worse types of emotions out of petty human beings.