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Time 09:51

It is well noted that a city is a reflection of its current and past rulers. This fact is well noted in a city like Sassari. While most medieval holds had a martial look, Sassari was feminine. There was plenty of ornamentation that served no military function. Even the stronghold of La Divina was not a castle, but a system of high roof Pavilions.

Should the walls ever be breached, the Pavilions could easily be looted. This had never occurred, not once in the long 300-year history of the city. As for the city itself, it had a nice orderly grid pattern. There were four districts, with four rows of houses or apartments.  The main roads went from North to South, all leading to the ornamental gates of the Pavilions. Surrounding the Pavilions were groups of lancer knights, with colorful attires over a leather armor.

The districts were not separated by caste as with other cities. A new house or building was added slowly overtime, maintaining the orderly grid pattern. When it came to expanding the walls, they were expanded Southward. Thus, Sassari developed the long way, with Newer Houses located the farthest away from the Pavilions. Despite the distance, if one stood at one of the main roads, one could easily see the Pavilions.

All the streets had lamp posts, each 7 meters in height, with 34-meters distance from one another. Protruding from each lamp was a stand, with a hanging orchid. When the eventuality that one died; it was quickly replaced. Each ruler of Sassari had its own particular favorite flower. The current ruler liked Orchids. Chalon too was partial to orchid. His eyes could not help but look up whenever he was making his way towards the market.

As a result of the distracting orchids, the ground in Sassari had been recently cladded with cobblestones. The change had been welcomed by pedestrians, but the downside was noise pollution. It was common to see in certain houses people adding hay to deafen the sound made by those stones. Before then, the roads were made of macadam, while the sidewalks were made of bricks. To deal with the noise problem, carriage and horse rides were disallowed after 10 P.M. This was the usual time La Imperia went to bed, so it made sense. Anyone caught breaking this rule had his horse confiscated. The person also had to perform menial jobs in the Workhouse for about two weeks.

While most towns had dungeons, pillories, stocks, whipping posts and gallows, Sassari had a Workhouse. Chalon had never seen the Workhouse, nor was he certain as to where it was located. However, one of the men from his clan who had been arrested came back with plenty of chilling tales, that nobody believed, but Chalon knew them to be true. Chalon had mixed opinions about the place. It wasn’t as if prisoners were forced to do anything they did not want to. Still, what the Workhouse offered was not promising either. Those that did not want to go to the Workhouse were sent to the mines.

Chalon walked quickly towards the market to get his main chores out of the way. He stumbled a moment, and then he took a step back. It was bad luck to stumble with your left foot. Anyhow, he looked down and noted a name on the brick. It said Jessy Vista, dragoon of Sassari. It was then he noted that more bricks had names of people. This distinction among the brick pattern only occurred near the Pavilions and in military apartments.  

Chalon looked down the brick he had stumbled over. He made a metal note of the name for future references. This time he walked with an even pace. He lowered his eyes to abstract himself on the history of Jessy Vista. We only started collecting Observations on the locals relatively recently. Aside from local history books, we did not have any firsthand visual information on Jessy Vista. A query on the name was sent to the Window Watchers. We would have the entire history of this lady in a couple of years.

Chalon stopped at a nearby street corner. He looked left and then right, before making the effort to cross the street. Just when he got serious about crossing the road, a person behind him pushed past him running. Chalon narrowed his eyes for a moment, he then ran straight ahead to push the fellow. It was a good thing he did, because a carriage had done a sharp turn nearly running over Chalon and the fellow pedestrian. The man not bothering to give thanks, instead he spat Chalon’s shoes before continuing his walk.

In response to this insult, Chalon jump kicked the fellow on the shoulder. This made the man stumble to the floor, a bit dazed from striking his head against the pavement. Chalon then wiped his boot against the jacket of the man. Chalon then putted back on his hood, before continuing on his way. The guards on the other side of the street clapped with approval. The guards of Sassari took honor and dueling rather seriously. As such, they tended not to interfere whenever a duel was in progress. Spiting a person was typically a type of challenge. If the person did not step up, he was deemed a coward. Another fun way to start a duel employs the backhanded salute. There is also the ever-popular slapping someone in the face with a glove.

Chalon neither knew, nor had the intention of learning of people and their ways. He was single minded to the point, with regards to his current task. He passed by two houses, before stopping at one. There was a nice aroma coming from the kitchen. He would have stopped to eat there, but he already had an early breakfast. It was common for many local houses to work as makeshift restaurants or teahouse. One could just walk up to any that had an open sign on the window. You ate what was being made, or you went elsewhere. Most homes specialized in a particular dish. For this house in particular, Chalon was interested in their Chocolate Pecan Tartlets. He scented the air again, and he smelled this time a Chocolate Coconut Pecan Pie coming straight out of the oven.

Had he been his brother Ahi, Chalon would have gotten inside there and eaten the pie and not pay. Still he had some self-respect, and he tried to avoid violence whenever he could. God bless, that Saint!

In the end, Chalon tucked his stomach in, and he made a mental note to come back later for the pies. At the end of this small block, he found the marketplace. The markets were different in Sassari. Not one to enjoy having the streets crowded, La Divina demanded that all roads be cleared for traffic. This was the official reason, though the reality is that the lady thought that markets ruined the aesthetic of the city. For this reason, all businesses had to set up shop indoors. This is where the large apartments came in. The ones in this section of the city had been transformed from homes to businesses, with each particular lodger sharing an indoor space with a mate. The merchant guild had arranged it in such a fashion that each building had an overall theme. The apartment complex with a sword on the entrance dealt with items of war.

What was considered war goods were the armors, swords, potions and the raw materials to make them. The library was also found there as well. Aside from selling normal books, the libraries there sold spell books and magical paraphernalia. This was the largest apartment complex, with 8 floors and a smithy in the basement. It had two stairs that served as entrances. The indoor was dark, with small open windows for light. The hallways were even more dimly light. It got a little brighter depending on the lighting arrangement of each tenant. Those with more money could afford rooms with more than one window. Other businesses had torn down walls to expand the size of their showrooms. This was a commonality shared among all the apartment businesses. On the exterior, the only hint to the nature of the apartments came in the form of signs. They were usually hung beneath each window. This gave people who were passing by, a general idea of the location of each type of store. The most expensive stores were located on the first and basement floor, while the cheaper enterprises were found on the top floors. Had the landlord been wiser, he would have done the opposite.

Door to door salesmen were tolerated, but only in so much as they did not use a cart or a wagon to form a stationary, temporary shop. If their carts lingered for more than 20 minutes, the salesmen would receive a fine. After seven fines, repeated offenders were usually sent to the Workhouse for about a month.   

The first place Chalon visited was found inside the War market. On the first floor was the library. Aside from selling books, the owner lent a couple of books out for a fee. If the person liked the book, they were welcome to buy it. The lending fees were a small pittance. Any books not returned on time were declared stolen, and so the thieves were taken to the Workhouse for a month. It is for this reason that all books ever lent returned on time.

Chalon stood before the daughter of the owner, who was managing the business for the moment. She had the same name as her father, Jules Breech. They hailed from a family of Coutures, but they had recently diversified into books. Lady Breech looked up from her book for a moment to stare at Chalon. Disinterested, she returned to her reading before saying, “Magic Tomes are on the back.”

Chalon came to stand before her, with the counter standing between them. He slapped it a little with his palm to get her attention. Sighing, she said, “What?”

Chalon wrote on his chalkboard, “Ingredients.”

 The maiden squinted her eyes. She then said, “Can you write that with normal print?”

Chalon wrote again, “Ingredients.”

This time he did not use the cursive he was so proud of. Lady Breech nodded, and then said pointing to the right, “They are on the back cabinets. To the left.”

Chalon went in the direction the girl had pointed to. He found there, instead some cooking books. After walking along the walls of cabinets. He found that indeed, she had meant the left. This may seem like Lady Breech was being a douche, but remember some people get left and right confused on a regular basis.

Chalon knew this, and thus did not mind the missed messages. He found the cabinet with the weird looking ingredients. Most of the them were not used for spellcasting. They were just odd looking, and so were thrown in there. The first item Chalon picked up was a chameleon inside a jar of preserves. He shook his head sadly, when he noted the poor fate of the chameleon. Most spell components could easily be substituted by crystals, wood carvings, and flower petals. After pushing back a few of the front rows, he noted a different jar filled with shark fins, and another with different types of animal eyes. Eyes too were a gimmicky, useless ingredient, but necromancers had a thing for eyes. It was a popular belief that eyes were the windows to the soul. As such, eyes were highly priced for summoning purposes. This was another common fallacy.   

Chalon remembering his chore list got the jar of eyes, and the one with the shark fins. He also took the little chameleon, who was not needed for anything. Lady Breech looked beneath the jars to check for the name and the price of the goods. She then looked through a ledger to make certain the prices had not been tampered with. When all was satisfied, she said to Chalon, “It is going to be 20 pieces of silver.”

Chalon paid her with 20 silver coins. The girl looked through each one and even tasted a couple to make certain they were real. Despite being real silver coins, the girl noted that the design of one of the coin looked different. All silver coins in the Kingdom had the visage of Berthame on one side, and the profile of a lovely lady on the other. Chalon’s silver coin however, featured the profile of a young maiden with her hair blowing in the wind. Her eyes were looking at the word freedom. On the other side, it had a cool rune pattern, with a sword in the middle. Around it, it had a date which read 2097, and the words that read: Listen to All. Follow None.

Lady Breech accepted the coin after much scrutiny. Like many girls her age, she had a collection of something. In her case, she collected odd currency. She always enjoyed the visit of the gypsies. They were her main supplier of strange coins. These coins were usually acquired by graverobbing. It was common in the old days to bury the dead with some legal tender. Since it was common belief that the dead had no need for money, the gypsies looted the graves.  

After accepting payment, Lady Breech asked Chalon, “Do you want a bag with your purchase.”

Chalon shook his head in response. He then placed the items beneath his long sleeves. Lady Breech observed this motion with keen interest. There did not seem to be any type of pouch or container under Chalon’s sleeves, and yet the item was out of sight. Before she could formulate her inquiry, Chalon walked out of the store. He had taken the second entrance of the shop. It led to the internal hallway, dimly lit by candlelight. To his left and to his right were other curiosity stores. However, Chalon decided to make his way towards the staircase to get the second item on the list. The following store was in the basement. It was simply the smithy. While opening the door, another fellow was exiting. He smacked the iron door against Chalon’s hand.

The person leaving the store noted Chalon but pretended not to notice him. Chalon was a bit compelled to strike the man with something heavy, but his attention was distracted by something else. The kiln was heaving, as the unpaid apprentice added more coal to the forge. Chalon noted the man hammering away at a sword, trying to shape it. It had a nice quarter moon shape, and the part that was already cold had an interesting shimmering aspect about it.

Based on the shimmering alone, there were faint traces of Obsidian, and a pint of zirconia. Chalon would have analyzed the weapon more, but the apprentice asked, “What do you want?”

Chalon brought up his chalkboard and drew a picture of the knives he had come to purchase. The apprentice wiped the sweat from his brow and came closer. He squinted his eyes to look at the picture painted in white, against a black background. He then walked over to an armoire and he picked out one of the daggers, which he handed to Chalon the sharp way.

The blacksmith snorted and said, “What are you doing you fool!”

The apprentice hunched his shoulders and said, “I am fulfilling the order…sir.”

“You can’t just give a dagger to someone from the sharp edge. Put the dagger in one of the spare leather pouches and then give it to him,” said the blacksmith.

The apprentice opened a different armory, and he found a flat leather pouch. He placed the dagger within, before handing it again to Chalon. The lad did the same for three more daggers, and for a straight sword, that came with an ornamental scabbard. After getting all these items, Chalon proceeded to put them under his sleeve. The apprentice asked, “How do you do that?”

“Magic, stupid!” said the blacksmith flatly.

Chalon made his way out of the stuffy basement, and out into the street. It was a wonder to him how they did not succumb from Monoxide poisoning. Still, dwarf people tended to have a higher tolerance for Carbon Monoxide than the average human. Before heading to a different apartment to shop, he saw a traveling salesman with his little cart. The cart had a lot of jars, with sweets and candy. The man was being trailed by a bunch of street ragamuffins and little barons all eager to satisfied their sweet tooth. The price of the candies were fair. Even those with meager earnings could afford a sweet or two. The candy that was often the most coveted was the liquorice cake. It was like a round coin, with a stamp decoration on one side. The stamp was the wax seal of an old fallen noble family.  

The owner of the shop was in no way noble. He had acquired the ring from a pawn shop. This traveling candy seller in particular was called Frank Ponte. He was a bit of an overweight fellow, who would take a bites out of his own merchandize from time to time. He would have been fat, if he did not spend 12 hours a day dragging his cart all over Sassari. He dragged it himself, because he could not afford a horse. The sound of the bells of his little cart reminded Chalon of those ice cream sellers from ancient times. Chalon waited in line patiently. One of the smaller kids said, “Aren’t you a little old to be eating candy?”

Chalon naturally said nothing. One of the kids behind Chalon made a motion to steal his purse. When the child touched the purse, he flinched and pulled his hand away. Chalon grinned with contempt. Two other kids who noticed the irresistible lure also tried to rob Chalon.  Their hands too were repelled by magic. The ward on the purse was a simple taser. One of the kids started crying even. For this, Chalon allowed him to go ahead of him. The kid refused the cut in the line, returning whence he came. It was interesting to note that this would be thief was one of those Little Barons. It was not too uncommon for people with money to shoplift and pickpocket from time to time. If discovered, they usually paid a large sum of money to avoid any jail time. Sometimes the out of court settlements were 10 times the amount of worth of the stolen item. The long and short of it is that bored children need a better hobby.

Since the line was moving quickly, Chalon did not need to support the brats’ company for long. After a short 15-minute wait, he was able to face the shopkeeper. The candy salesman Frank Ponte all professional said, “What will it be son?”

Chalon pointed at one of those flat liquorice candy, and then held up 7 fingers. As a traveling salesman, he had seen it all. As such, he was not estranged by Chalon’s vow of silence. The salesman placed those candies in a brown paper bag. Before closing it, he asked, “Anything else?”

Chalon pointed to some honey colored, tear shaped candy. It had a nice glistering quality to it. It was made combining sugar, rosewater, ground almonds and lemon juice. He then pointed to some sugar plums and some penydes. The sugar plums were made of pieces of plum dipped in dissolved sugar, combined with rosewater. As for the penydes, they were made with brown sugar, rice flour, eggs, vanilla, cinnamon, and sugar cane. To these, Chalon held up the numbers 17, 11 and 2. The total number of candies was 37. This request caused the brown paper bag to be almost full to the top. Frank gingerly folded the top of it to close it. Without thinking too much on the matter, Frank said, “That will be 21 gold coins, with 30 silver coins and 9 bronze coins.”

Frank was always good at math. The currency system in the Kingdom was not too complicated. About 100 bronze coins was worth 1 silver coin, while 1000 silver coins was worth one gold coin. Since Veragerung at the time controlled most of the mines, it was pretty hard to smith counterfeits. All the coins shared an imperceptible impurity that made it taste different than pure bronze, silver and bronze. The impurity was shared among all three types of coins. The secret ingredient was kept under extreme lock and key. Despite all their secrecy, it is common knowledge among our people that the additive to the coins was nickel. Nickel was not widely harvested. As such, local knowledge of such an element is severely limited.

Chalon reached under his sleeved and he pulled out in fistful 21 gold coins and 9 bronze coins. He placed them over the counter, before reaching again to acquire the rest of the money. Once all the money was accounted for, Frank finally handed Chalon his sweets. With this purchase on hand, Chalon proceeded to enter the next apartment market. This faced the one Chalon had come from. The doorway had had dainty flowers painted over it. The window advertisement featured natural goods, like flowers, and fish and meats. The first couple of floors had the flowers that were on sale. On the basement floor below was the fish market. On the top floors were the butchers. The first thing that Chalon noted was the smell of fish. Despite being surrounded by flowers, the pungent smell of almost rotting fish seemed to cling to the walls.

After taking a single whiff of his surroundings, Chalon lowered the hood over his head even further till it completely covered his face. On the top of his hood, he had an ornamental eye, inside a hand of power. You know those hands, that come with three fingers and two thumbs. They were quite popular with the magic children back in the old days. The hand itself was decorated with small beads. They formed swirly, acanthus patterns. The border and background bead where orange, while the acanthus beads where white. As for the eye, it was color purple. Most evil eyes tended to be dark and baby blue. However, Chalon felt purple created a nice contrast, and so the evil eye was made purple.

Anyhow, with the hood sealed shut, the robes activated their gimmick, providing artificial, fresh air for our odor sensitive Chalon. One of the flower girls who saw Chalon covered his head completely chuckled. In this knew form, with the hand of power, and the evil eye for a face, he called a lot of attention. Hood ornaments were common, but masked magic users did not inspire much confidence.  

Chalon walked up to the flower girl who had giggled. She gulped when she saw him come closer. He gingerly started picking through her merchandise, with a purpose. The flower girl seemed about to protest, but she kept silent. She noted the chalkboard Chalon had tied to his robes, by two chains. The standard mute message was clearly visible. Chalon always took care to rewrite the same message after he concluded each conversation.

The first flower Chalon chose was a cosmos. He got about 5 of them. His lingering gaze hidden behind the hood the landed on a pansy. Of this flower, he acquired about 7 of them. He then added to his growing bouquet about 19 catmint. He concluded his bouquet with 3 scabiosa and 3 calla lilies. The total number of flowers he bought was 37.

He then bought a single red ribbon, which he twirled around the bouquet three times before giving it a little bow. The flower girl watched Chalon with mild amusement. She asked, “Going to a funeral?”

Chalon did not answer. The girl timidly watched the evil eye, trying to guess Chalon’s emotions. In the end, she said, “That will be 97 copper coins, please.”

Chalon handed her a silver coin, before putting the bouquet away. She was about to give him change, but he shook his head in response. The flower girl smiled and turned her attention to her coins. She placed the extra three coins inside her sock, and the rest went inside a little lockbox that was behind the counter. She frowned when she felt something dripping on her hand. Chalon did too notice and saw that it was blood. The girl cleaned her hand on a dingy handkerchief, before returning to deal with another prospective costumer.

Chalon found his way towards the stairs. The smell of fish and rotting meat was most pungent there. There was a garbage can nearby. As he walked up the stairs, a person from a nearby banister dropped a piece of swine head into the garbage. The stairs were designed in such a way as to provide a little balcony between the stairs and the rooms above. The stairs where dog legged, meaning there was an abrupt turn between each flight of stairs. The separation of the balcony allowed for light to come from the roof all the way down to the floors below. The roof was made of stained glass. The window was decorated with a beautiful blue peacock sitting on a branch. The staircases were made of single slabs of wood press against the walls. This gave the stairs a bit of a floating feel. They were cut in an alternating steps. It had a single rail for protection. Chalon noted that the railing was made of pine. Meanwhile, the stairs were made of Sandalwood.

It seemed to Chalon that the railings were a new, cheap addition. When he came to the second floor, he found the source of the blood. The butcher shop was for some reason located on the second floor. From one of the back windows, Chalon saw people hauling up a squealing pig. It was then brought forth and held down by two men while another came at it with a knife to stab it to death. Chalon frowned at this, but nobody noticed because he was using his robes as a respirator.

The butcher with the knife cleaned his hands on a dirty apron. He then looked up and took a step back when he saw Chalon. The other men too started to stare daggers at Chalon. The butcher calmed a bit when he noted the sign Chalon was wearing. Historically speaking, no mute had ever committed a crime in Sassari.

Coming closer, the butcher with the dirty apron said, “How may I help you?”

As before, Chalon took out a small chalk and eraser. He then erased his old message before writing down, “Blood.”

“You want some blood, of what kind? We have some fresh pig blood if you want some. Cow, chicken, rooster? My brother is a priest of Arasa, so I can even get you some human blood, if it pleases you,” said the butcher.

It may surprise you, but demand for blood was not uncommon in the Kingdom. The entire trend started with the farmers who started drinking the blood of the animals they tended to, because the lords did not allow them to eat their meat. Overtime, the butchers started to store and preserve the blood, along with the pieces of the animals that people normally did not want. Aside from farmers, there was the occasional magic user who visited the butcher shops looking for some blood. They were usually sold in standard, 1-liter bottles.

In answer to his inquiry, Chalon wrote down, “2 Pigs, 3 Goats and 2 Cows.”

The butcher came to look at Chalon’s board. He was about to admit something embarrassing, when one of the apprentices came and whispered to the butcher, “He wants 2 pigs, 3 goats and 2 cows.”

The butcher nodded and said, “We will deal with that later…As for your order, will you be paying in coins or in bank notes?”

Bank notes was a relatively recent development. Due to the wars, a lot of the copper and silver coins had been smelted into weapons. As such, it was common that certain shops would take bank notes as a different type of currency. It was slowly catching on. The butcher may not have known how to read, but he had a keen vision of the future. Soon, coinage was going to become obsolete.

Chalon reached inside his sleeve and he pulled out a wad of banknotes. The butcher mentally did the conversion, and then said, “That will be 54 notes, with 10 coppers.”

Chalon in response gave him 55 banknotes. When the butcher went to give him the change, Chalon shook his head in response. Having paid up front, Chalon folded his arms, as he waited for his purchase to be fetched. The blood was usually stored in the basement. There was a special larder designed for storing the blood. It kept them at a nice 53 degrees Fahrenheit. If winter allowed, one could even have a bloody frosty. Thankfully for Chalon, it was late Spring. As such, the blood was not going to be frozen. After receiving his pay, the butcher went to retrieve Chalon’s order. Normally, he would have sent one of the boys, but he was not in the mood for dealing with magic users.

While Chalon waited, one of the apprentices came to ask him some questions. The first one was, “What is with the face covering?”

 “It’s the smell,” wrote Chalon on his board.

The apprentice came closer to read what Chalon had written. The boy went by the name of Justin Theo. His family used to be rich, but now they were poor. His father was in the Workhouse, while his mother wasted whatever money Justin earned gambling and fooling around. Since he had an early education, he knew how to read and write. He was indispensable to the Butcher.

Justin chuckled when he read what Chalon had written. He then said, “I don’t smell anything. How old are you? How long are you going to be staying in Sassari?”

“I am 17. We will leave in 2 months,” wrote Chalon. He seemed eager to add more information, but chose not to. After double checking his digits, he showed his answer to Justin. Both numbers were lies. The gypsies were schedule to move out in 15 days and we do not use age to measure people’s growth. Our Power has gone a long way and toddlers can be born as old geezers, while old men can rejuvenate into toddlers. Chalon too had felt particularly infantile when he came to this world. So much so, that he pretended to be a baby when he made his first contact with the locals. It’s fun pretending to be a baby, for the most part. It all depends on the person who picks you up. If that person turns out to be a douche, then he had another thing coming his way.

Anyhow, Justin’s next inquiry was about Chalon’s name. He said, “My name is Justin. What is your name?”

“Chalon,” wrote Chalon.

“How do you pronounce that?” asked Justin.

Chalon opened his mouth to pronounce his name, but he stopped realizing what Justin almost made him do. Grinning, Justin asked, “Will it be so bad for you to speak? Most mute people these days are cultist? Does not speaking help you at all? Why do you choose not to speak?”

“Silence is gold. Speaking is silver,” wrote Chalon.

“I don’t get it. Care to explain,” insisted Justin.

“People regret what they say, but rarely what they do not,” explained Chalon.

Justin was thoughtful for a bit. He was ruminating about his father, and how his big mouth had gotten him sent to the Workhouse in the first place. He was about to continue the conversation, but he saw the butcher arrive with the purchase.

Chalon received the bottles one by one. Each time he got one, he would place it beneath his sleeves. Chalon left the shop and made his way up the stairs. He found a door that was closed with a simple key lock. Using basic telekinesis, he made the lock give way. He entered the small, poorly light room and then locked the door behind him. It had a small window, and a large raised step, about a meter high. At its center, there was a wooden circle. Chalon rose it with his feet and grimaced. This was a type of toilet. He had been desiring to potty, but he decided to hold it in till he returned home. While most of his people where contempt to go in the woods, Chalon still preferred the good old-fashioned toilet bowl. Chalon still micturated down the hole. He peered down and he noted that it fell in a cart bellow. He then ran out of there, before the mountain of compost made him chunder.   

When he left the apartment building, he removed his hood to breathe in a sigh of relief. There was only two other places he had to visit. The first place was a little working garden. It faced La Imperia’s palace. It was demanded that the places nearest to the palace had to be visually pleasing. This little four-bedroom manor was no exception. Normally, rich people lived together in large family homes, with at least 17 snobs all stuck together. This manor used to be like that, but overtime the family shrunk. The last two surviving members one day tore down most of the mansion to make room for a working garden. The two cousins lived together cultivating the land, from the safety of the walls. Normally, gardening projects were done outside the walls. However, when nobles took a whack at it, they usually did it within the walls. As long as they were within the property lines, such projects were allowed. The first thing one noticed when passing by the exterior of the house were the brick walls, and the decorative iron fence. Over the walls, the branches of some of the fruiting trees spilled over to the pavement.

Chalon noted one of the homeless people eating a mango. He was sitting beneath a plaque that read: Any fruits that spills over to the street is public property. Aside from mangos, the public had easy access to almonds, apples, avocado, pecans and cherries. The homeless population in Sassari relied on these branches for sustenance. Looking after these trees were two fellows who stood watch. They were homeless veterans, who found a purpose in making certain that no one person could claim the entire harvest of the branches for themselves, for selling purposes.   

Chalon pushed the gate to enter the garden. It slowly creaked open. The garden had the family name of the Asters. Aster also happens to be the name of a flower. A lot of insect larvae’s like eating this flower. It has purple petals, with a yellow center. Despite belonging to the family of the Asters, this flower did not feature at all in the entire garden. Chalon did notice it in some insignias on the crumbling walls, and even in the coat of arms decorating the main door of the house. Chalon knocked twice on the oak door, and then three times. A note was slipped under the door.

The note read: What do you want?

The person writing the notes was the eldest cousin. He was 75 years old. His name was Acelin, but he was known in the Cabaret as Ace. During the working days, he would take turns with his cousin managing the shop. Ace would handle the costumers in the daytime, while his cousin slept. When night fell, the pair would work together in the garden for about 8 hours before calling it a night. Ace would then take that time to get some well-deserved sleep. Ace had short grayish, white hair, which he combed back behind his ears. His eyebrows were the same color. His face was pale, with some slight hints of color in the cheeks and forehead. His nose was medium and perky. His most striking features were his green eyes, and blush red lips. There was something of a neutrally to the overall features of his face. He could either pass for a male or a female. His cousin Hardwin shared the same face shape, but his eyes were blue and larger and more expressive. His hair was red, and his nose was covered in freckles. His nose was also a little bit snub.

Chalon brought out a quill, without any ink. He then took the paper and scribbled on the back of it. Ace looking through the peep whole noted Chalon’s strange attire. He frowned when he saw that Chalon was a recreational mute. Ace did have his tongue too, but as of lately he had sworn off from the world. He only went out to the Cabaret to hide this new disposition from Hardwin.

Chalon scribbled on the paper, “I want some fruits.”

He then passed the note under the door. Ace read the note, before throwing it away. He took a new clean sheet of paper, which he used to write, “Write your order.”

Chalon wrote, “29 lychees, 3 bundles of Jabuticaba, 5 Passion Fruits and 11 mangosteen.”

Chalon returned the note. Ace read the order and did not know how to make sense of it. As far as he knew, he did not have any of those items. He passed the note under the door, saying, “I do not have any of those items.”

Chalon replied writing, “Yes, you do. I can see lychee tree from where I am standing.”

Before he passed the note, he took out his chalkboard. He illustrated each of the fruits, with the names he had given for each. Ace smacked his own forehead lightly, now coming to an understanding. Those fruits were a relatively new acquisition. These trees had only been planted there for about 5 years. Since they had come from foreign lands, the fruits did not have a standardized name like the common lemons and oranges.

Since he was not too certain about the Jabuticaba that resembled grapes, Ace was forced to do something he did not want to do. Chalon heard the rattling of the chains. Eventually the front door opened and a person with a large round hat, with a veil, clad in black came out. The veil was tied to his neck, to keep it steady. He beckoned Chalon to follow. The pair walked through the garden. Each time, Ace stopped facing a certain type of grape. In no particular order, Chalon saw Pinot Noir, Sweet Jubilee, Kyoho and Reisling. After a couple of minutes of quickly walking behind Ace, Chalon saw the Jabuticaba he was looking for.

Ace took a nearby basket and handed it to Chalon. Chalon shook his head in response. He picked the 3 bundles he wanted. Each time he placed a bundle under his sleeve. Ace frowned beneath his hat but said nothing. The other fruits where an easier find. They have distinctive enough features to be recognized on sight. The lychee tree was relatively young. After scanning through the tree, Chalon was shocked to note that the tree only had 7 fruits.

Chalon wrote, “Don’t you have any more lychees?”

Ace shook his head in response. Chalon narrowed his eyes like he did not believe the fellow. He stood there and waited a moment, before Ace started walking again. He led Chalon to another lychee tree. This one was slightly smaller than the previous one, but it had full branches, all swollen with lychees. Chalon took the remaining lychees.

It was at this point that Ace extended his hand to point to Chalon’s coin purse. Understanding that Ace wanted money, Chalon got ahead of him and paid for all fruits in advance. He gave him flat 45 gold coins, no change. As Ace extended his hand to take the coins, he stopped for a moment and spoke for the first time, but more to himself.

He said, “Something is a little bit off…”

He walked over to a flower bed. Some of the roses were with hips. He counted all of them. His face turned even paler when he notice that four where missing. He kneeled down on the ground, and he removed his glove to gently stroke the part of the plant that was missing. Chalon walked a little closer to see what was the matter.

Ace not turning around said, “You are still here? Get the rest of your order and get lost. If you get anything beyond what was agreed upon know that I will put your head on a pike.”

Chalon seemed about to say something, but instead he chose to remain silent. He pit his lower lip, to swallow the words back. At another time, he would have been eager to help, but he was running an important errand. The matter could not be put off till late. Chalon noted the position of the sun and he decided to rush through this specific errand. After getting his Passion Fruits and leaving the coins at the entrance of the house, he ran to his next destination. He slow downed somewhat as he approached the steps up the small, narrow house. It was one of many, finely crafted, though attached to its neighbors type of home. There was about a row of 15 houses of this similar design. They all had small front gardens, and stone backyards. The main difference between them was the color, and the number of floors of each home. The one Chalon visited in particular had 5 floors.

There was a number ladies drinking tea in the front porch. They all wore finely crafted dresses, and ornamental hats. Once inside, Chalon saw a room with about 50 hats on display. The ladies naturally frowned and whispered when they saw Chalon enter. Since he had his hood lowered, they were able to see that he was a gypsy. While the lady of the house was busy with another patron in another room, Chalon started trying on the hats. He found a full body mirror, with a golden frame, decorated with acanthus. The mirror was square, and it reflected the other room that was separated by a small archway.

The first hat he wore was purple, with lots of ribbons and laces. It had a couple of short peacock feathers as accents. Chalon placed it on his head, and he changed his features to resemble someone else that he knew.

The first person he turned into was our good old Marduke. Chalon imagined his brother might dig a colorful hat. The second hat he tried on was a flaming red one, with dyed ostrich plumes, and a ruby at the center, surrounded by pearls. Chalon grew red hair and flaming eyes. He thought Ahi might like the silly hat, but then he pondered if such a lovely gift might get eaten instead of worn.

He did the same gimmick a couple of times till a toddler noted Chalon playing around with the hats. The toddler told his mother, “There is a weirdo playing with the hats.”

His mother added a couple of pins to the dress she was fitting for a young girl. Taking the hat from Chalon’s hand, she said, “Give me that! If you haven’t come to buy, then get out!”

The toddler came to stand beside his mother. Clutching her skirts, he said, “The man was making funny faces.”

“Oh, was he now,” said the lady. She was meaning to say more on the matter, but she noticed the strange sigh around Chalon’s neck. Instead, she asked, “Are you really a mute? Or are you faking it for alms,”

Chalon wrote, “Do I look like a hobo to you?”

“You are not the first well-dressed vagabond that stinks up my store,” said the lady annoyed.

The name of the lady was Suzan Favors. She was a young widow, with 9 girls and a little toddler boy, named Zeus. Like many anachronical names, this one was partly Chalon’s fault. Whenever he was drawing a blank, he would rewrite a story from ancient times into a play to sell it as his own work. It wasn’t a complete copy paste type of deal. Much of the dialogues and scenes were edited depending on the type of audience, and general mood of the city. If a city was going through a regression type of period. The stories were transformed into parodies. If the city was all happy and jolly, then Greek tragedies were the norm. There was one source that Chalon never tapped into. One can only see Romeo and Juliet for so long before the work and all its associates become bothersome. Truly, there are better stories out there, and one does get tired of needlessly flowery language. I mean, were those stories even written for human consumption?

But, I digress. Now back to Lady Suzan. This middle age rich widow was often coveted by men. Many entered her shop pretending to be something they were not, but she could smell the poverty in them. Lady Suzan was in no hurry to get married. These frequent encounters with stalkers was part of the reason why she was not showing the least hint of civility when engaging Chalon. To her, he was just another impertinent suiter.

In response to her impertinent question, Chalon wrote down, “I apologize for the smell, I just came out of the butcher shop.”

“Oh, I see. I can barely tolerate going there. Last time I visited one of my dresses got stained with blood. Whose idea was it to put the butcher shop over the flower store? It makes no sense. Does it?” said Lady Suzan more to herself.

“It certainly does not,” wrote down Chalon. He erased this when noted that Lady Suzan had not read it. After erasing it, he wrote down on his board, “Pick up order.”

When she read this sign, Chalon handed her a receipt, with the purchase order. Lady Suzan was quite organized with her orders. She was one of the few shops that utilized receipts. These were made by her eldest daughter, Sofia. She was saving up money as a scribe to get herself a husband. At least this was the working theory.

Lady Suzan narrowed her eyes in an attempt to recognize Chalon. After rattling her memory, a bit, she remembered seeing a gypsy girl not so long ago, who had ordered about 17 hats of different sizes and design. She then said slowly, “Oh…yes! Now, I remember. My apologies. All paying customers are welcome, especially the ones who prepay.”

It was not often that Lady Suzan received money before hand, for her commissions. This was in part due to a little hat fiasco that had occurred two years ago. The day before the promised delivery, her baby Zeus had crawled into her workstation and smeared hundreds of hats with ink. Ever since then, Lady Suzan had lost the trust she had once placed on her daughters. They were idle, and good for nothing as far as she was concerned.

For reasons that Lady Suzan could not understand, she felt a slight headache. Chalon gave her a look of concern, when he saw Lady Suzan rubbing her temple. She then went to her daughter Sofia and handed her the receipt without saying a word. Chalon heard the sound of Lady Suzan’s heels as she went upstairs. Sofia too followed the sound of her mother’s footsteps. Zeus who was going through a clingy phase quickly followed after her. After counting the exact number of footsteps, Sofia breathed in a sigh of relief. Her mother had made it to the bed. It was not often, but her mother would get spells of sudden fatigue. They were usually preluded by a throbbing pain on the forehead. Chalon was somewhat keen on throwing Lady Suzan a bone, but since his healing peck was feeble, he chose to just make a mental note about it. If anything, there was quite the number of healers in Sassari and there was always his sister Melina who used to make rounds in the city.

Following a few minutes of awkward silence, Sofia said, “So, just stay here and I will bring forth your order.”

After saying this, Sofia went downstairs to fetch the hats. They were all inside five tanned leather boxes. The hats themselves were not too large. Chalon took each leather box, and one by one he placed them under his sleeve. Sofia looked to the side, and commented, “That is a neat trick.”

Chalon shrugged his shoulders and mouthed the word, “Meh.”

With this, he had finished all his errands in the city of Sassari.

Time 13:34

It was close to noon when Chalon started running back to camp. He had his rectum, for lack of a more obscure word, clenched as he ran. He was desperately trying to make his way towards a familiar pot. A place where he felt safe, and secure enough to free himself of his heavy burden. Along the way, some humans in the street got in his way, which he pushed aside with no moderation in strength. He remembered himself when he made a little girl cry, when he thoughtlessly bumped into her. He had not seen her, and he felt quite guilty about it. In the end, he jumped and then landed back in camp. Naturally, this caused quite a lot of commotion among the people of Sassari who had seen him, not so much the gypsies. He ran through camp, and he found his favorite spot being used by another. He pushed him aside, and the person said, “Chalon! I am not finished. Sheesh! At least, let me clean myself.”

He was about to protest more, but Chalon had already brought out his favorite pot, and had assumed position. He breathed in a sigh of relief, after dropping like 4 pounds in less than 2 minutes. After concluding his business, Chalon removed his garnets and he sent them to another dimension to get them cleaned, with a towel as his only source of clothing, he proceeded to take a bath to clean himself completely. I do the same thing too. It is a little hygiene habit that became quite commonplace here in our world. Most people would be satisfied to just clean the affected area, but not us. It is always more effective to just clean everything, just to be safe.

The person Chalon had pushed aside in order to exhaust himself was the local albino of the clan. He was not related to the family in any way. Still, all successful acts featured an albino fellow, so Harold had decided to buy one. The albino fellow was technically a slave. He had never received his freedom papers from Harold, who did not know he had to prepare some. He thought that his word was enough to offer the man his freedom. Harold had said to his family that the albino Shaun Spooner was now a free man, and he should be treated as such. After verbally giving him his freedom, Shaun decided to travel along with Harold and his merry clan of gypsies. As for the last name Spooner, it was often that slaves did not have a family name. When they were freed, they were given a last name. The name Spooner was given to him by Chalon. Shaun accepted the last name because spoon was one of the few words he could actually spell correctly.

Albinism was a tricky subject in the Kingdom of Veragerung. Just 500 years ago, it was common for albinos to be killed, and their bodies sold to magic users as spell components. When the Tower of Zuberus started expanding its powers, these barbaric practices were suppressed. Most books relating to albino related magic were burned. The albino hunts ended for good 300 years later, thanks to Berthame’s rule of law. Under his mandate, all species of all colors, who were not slaves, were threated just like any other fellow. Though whenever one of those forbidden blood magic books surfaced, it often spelled troubled for the albino community.

Shaun thought of this, and many other things while he tried once again to finish his business. He saw Chalon bathing, with a little bit of envy. Chalon could bathe out there in the open if he wanted to. While had to sit there, and dressed like a dark elf, with a mask, a large hat, and gloves and cape, with just about anything necessary to keep himself safe from the sun. In the old days, he would not have minded much the sun sores, but Chalon had warned him about skin cancer, and now it was all he could think about whenever he had an inch of his skin exposed.

At the time, Shaun had only been traveling with the gypsies for about 2 years. Despite that length of time, he imagined that Chalon was picking on him all the time. This bathroom incident was just one of the many little scrapes he had with Chalon. The main issue was that he got in the way of Chalon’s happy little routine. Chalon’s family already knew his behavior pattern, and so, they knew when and where to expect him in order to avoid any bit of tension. Harold was a man who enjoyed peace and quiet, and anything that caused even the slightest bit of stress was discouraged. And, so, this was part of the reason why Shaun never confronted Chalon in these types of uncomfortable situations.

On the meantime, Chalon was enjoyed his little midafternoon bath. On this particular day, the weather was fair. The sun burned strongly, but not too much. It was just right. Chalon did not linger too much on his libations. It lasted less than 7 minutes. For the afternoon, Chalon decided to put on his necromancer garbs. He no longer needed to run errands, and so he putted on what he called his work uniform.  When he was dressed, he visited two trailers. The first belonged to his cousin Kay. The window had about four potted roses. They had to be trimmed every so often to make it easy to open the small window. Chalon opened the door and he placed on the small cot, the boxes with the hats Kay had ordered.

The swords Chalon took to one of the supply carts. With this delivery concluded, he finally sat down in the communal table to wait for his meal. Right on cue, Estrid dropped her sewing needle, and the garment she was currently working on. She left her trailer and made her way towards dining area. Around her, people were already cooking their own meals. Lunch was the only meal that the family group could not synchronize. As such, each person prepared their own meals before getting back to work. Chalon was one of the few douches who did not follow in suit. This was in part because Estrid would spoil him from time to time. For Chalon’s meal, she backed him some baby red potatoes, with yellow onions, a green bell pepper, 3 green onions, two sliced sausages with some cooking oil. It also came with two fried eggs. This he had with mineral water. Since he liked his drinks cold, the moment he touched the glass he lowered the temperature of his drink to his gusto. He had gotten a lot of practice with that simple trick over the years. The first time he had tried it in this world, he had shattered the glass. Ever since then, he had been a little bit more deliberate with his attempts, despite the fact that he wanted to enjoy his meal.

Food was one of the few things Chalon enjoyed in his life. At time he pondered on eating more than what he should, but he did not want to devour all the supplies of his family group. Estrid did know that her adopted son was a heavy eater. It was for this reason she always served him more food than what was normally allowed. The first thing Chalon tackled were the potatoes. They were seasoned just the way he liked, with oregano, paprika, thyme, sea salt and garlic powder. Seasoning was one of the few luxuries that this gypsy clan enjoyed. Some of the spices were pretty hard to get, like paprika, peppers, saffron and cinnamon. Cinnamon was the rarest spice in the kingdom. The tree that produced the Cinnamon was found in the high mountains behind Aragon. Access to it was severely restricted by the ebbs and flow of the river born from the mountain top. Efforts had been made recently to grow a Cinnamomum verum in the lowlands. It was a work in progress in many cities, including Sassari.

While Chalon munched on his potatoes, he absentmindedly pocked the eggs on his table with his fork. Eventually, he pulled one up which he bit halfway before setting it down on the plate. He blinked twice when he noticed a fellow sitting before him. It was common for merchants to temporarily travel along with gypsy clans. The man sitting before Chalon had a brown traveling coat, a green attire, with a black feathered cap. This slight acknowledgement of the traveler only lasted for a second. Chalon the lowered his eyes to return to eating his food.

The man seemed eager to strike up a conversation. He was intrigued by Chalon’s black robes. Black was an expensive dye, and those who wore it did so to showoff how rich and successful they were. The subtle floral patterns on the hood and sleeves were made of golden thread. The leather sash going from his shoulder to his waist hid the necromancy bell. It was attached to the belt, which held a rune sword. On his hands, Chalon wore three golden rings. Two on the pinkies, and one in the middle finger of his left hands. The necromancy bells themselves did not have any true power. They were designed to entrance the magic user, to change their perception of reality. The deeper the tone, the more in tune they were with the death world. The trance could be triggered in any other type of way. Chalon really did not need the bells, and many a times he forgot he wore them. The local necromancers did not always use bells. Some used coins, others bones, and others whistles. This divagation was in part due to the fact that there was not a uniformed school of necromancy. It was allowed in the magic community, but it was not encouraged either. It was one of those do it at your own risk, type of magical paths.

As for the rune blade, it was just a stylistic choice. Chalon had plenty of spells and abilities worked better than a sword. Still, it was useful for those rare moments when he was drawing a blank. When all else fails, one could always hack away your problems. Chalon stabbed the eggs with his fork a bit, before finally bringing one to his mouth. He was lost in thought. He was trying to remember something that he could not. The surface memories were usually easy picking for the Ultimate Weapon. It was those other, imperceptible thoughts, the elusive types that proved the hardest to pin down. They were like a river you are trying to pull out spoonful, by spoonful. It is possible, given enough time, but by the time you acquire the missing thought it ends up being something pointless and trivial.

The merchant opened his mouth to ask his question, but before he did, Chalon’s face lit up. He had one of those Eureka expressions. He had managed to remember what he had been struggling to pin down all morning. This effort to remember came about from time to time. It was more of a feeling. When he did remember completely, Chalon frowned again. It was what came afterwards that left a sour taste in his mouth, or maybe it was the over spiced potatoes. Either way, Chalon ate quickly this time and he got up before the merchant could detain him.

Normally, Chalon would have made a round about the camp to see if his help was required for anything else. Instead, he went inside his trailer. He closed all the windows and the main door. He added black curtains to boot. He removed the curtain from a mirror nightstand he had. He lighted a candle before it. To get himself in trance, he opened his belt and took out the fattest bell. He began to perceive many things around him, like the lurkers, the biters, the sniffers and the kickers. These are just nicknames for things that we do not know what they are. We just describe their behaviors and put them together in a group. Their elusive intangible nature makes them a little bit hard to analyze. Not that it matters much in the grand scheme of things. These beings live in a different plane of exitance. They have no significant effect on our real world, with the notable exception of the Sleepers.

There was another type of being that belonged to that plane which was relevant. Chalon was trying to make contact with a Diviner. While the Sleepers did not want to have anything to do with the real world, the Diviners wanted to perceive everything and everyone in the real world, without risking their hide. The more ancient the Diviner, the better. Still, Ancient Diviners were rare because many turned into Sleepers. For the moment, there was one that still cared about the fate of the worlds. He answered to the sound of crumbling, dried rose petals. With his hand, Chalon opened a drawer and started removing from there rose petals he had for this specific summoning. Darkness grew around him, and he could no longer perceive the room or the chair he was sitting on. There was only a large, ever growing candle. Soon, other lights started dancing around him, and the five stained glass windows were noticeable on the sky above. If there were walls, Chalon could not touch them. One could walk into infinity in either direction and the distance between the person and the walls would never be breached. Chalon rose and took a step.

The step was echoed on the empty hallway of infinity. The sound was similar to cracking ice or when a person steps on snow. Instead of walking, Chalon waited. After a moment or an eternity, a strange creature appeared before him. It had a snake like body, with three humanoid arms protruding from the chest. Each hand had three skinny, bony fingers. The body was icky, like the one of an eel. The face, if you can call it that, had four sets of eyes, one large one, and three small dot ones. The snout protruded down, as if it had no cartilage. It was like an elephant appendage witch suckers like the ones of a squid. The mouth was like that of a humpback whale, but only that it opened vertically, instead of horizontally. The wings were formed by rows of purple whiskers, and the tail was long, and wide, with warts like those of a frog. The hands gesticulate in the air, and Chalon responded in kind.  

Through many encounters, the pair had developed a type of sign language. The creature said, “What seems to be the trouble?”

“Saomoc, I need you to interpret a dream,” said Chalon with sign language.

“Go on,” said Saomoc. Saomoc was phonetically the closets one could get to the sound the creature made when it first introduced itself. Thought in its strange language, the creature was just saying hello.

“It started a bit like a pleasant dream. I was an angelic looking fellow with his human lover, a collage fellow. Whenever the angel pretended to be human, his lover was nice and pleasant, but when he was his real self his lover was cold and distant and that always bothered the angel fellow, for both personalities were one and the same. So, the dream was just normal stuff, from going to school and dates and jobs and all that nonsense. The dream changed to something rather unpleasant. I was a woman who gave birth to three babies. Two looked normal, but one was like a bony old woman who was slowly withering away, and decaying. I was quite upset that the doctors had shown me the other baby. Why mortify me with the other child, if I had two that were alive and well? There was no need for me to know about the other one. So, why did I dream of this? And is this a prophecy type of dream? Does it relate to the future or to the past? Cause I feel that it is a prophetic dream. I usually remember those types of dreams,” said Chalon with his hands.

The creature folded his arms and rested his head on the skinny hand in the middle. After thinking a lot, Saomoc said, “This dream was dreamt before by your mother. The first dream is just standard dream fulfillment. She wanted a silly show she was watching to focus on two different characters. As for the second, it was a side effect of something she had seen on the internet.”

“The internet huh? That’s archaic,” commented Chalon.

“The point is that the dream has to do with her birthing anxieties. It is part of the reason why she avoided intimacy back when she was flesh and blood,” explained Saomoc.

There are some things that never change, thought Chalon. In the end, he said to Saomoc with his own voice, “Thank You, my friend.”

The creature emitted a strange guttural sound in response. Chalon blinked twice and he was back in his trailer. He blew out the candle, and he left the trailer. He squinted his eyes a bit as he tried to get used to use to the sunlight again. It did not take too long considering that the entire incident only look ten minutes to conclude. When one is in a trance, the perception of time is altered.

After getting used to the sunlight, Chalon goes to look at the notice board. When Harold was younger he was mercenary. He even belonged to a little guild. Due to his guild days, he had gotten into the habit of putting up a little notice board for his family to put up tasks that required a little extra hand. Chalon picked the first paper on top of the board without bothering to read it. After walking back a pace, he read it over the top.

The message said: Need sparring partner for tonight’s mock fight. Come see Shaun for further details.

Chalon left with the note in hand. He found Shaun practicing with a dummy on the makeshift stage. It was on the grass, and the curtain was held by two wooden beans. The floor was made of wood. It was formed by connecting pieces of large planks, about 20 units in total. Shaun stopped his practice when he heard the wood groan. He echoed that groan when he saw that it was Chalon.

Shaking his head, Shaun said, “Well, let’s just get this over with.”

Chalon walked across the stage and he picked up one of the blunt rapiers. Chalon took his stance and prepared for battle. While most duelist placed their hands on their backs or they outstretched their free hand, Chalon always dueled with his empty arm raised to the level of his heart, with a first on his chest. He then held his rapier straight ahead. Shaun started with some light taps on Chalon’s sword. In response, Chalon took a couple of steps back.

This time Shaun tried a more aggressive stance, but Chalon limited himself to putting some distance between himself and Shaun. Slowly, Chalon was luring Shaun to the curtains. To goat him, Chalon returned with a similar like aggression, but always retreating. Eventually, instead of parrying the blade Chalon stepped sideways. Shaun’s dull rapier stabbed one of the column beans, and the force caused his blade to bend downwards. This caused Shaun to lose his balance somewhat. When he got within range, Chalon gave Shaun a backhanded slap in the face. He would have done a first, but Chalon was going easy on the guy. He knew that sparring with humans always entailed doing things without the intent to kill.

It seemed to Chalon that practice fights were superfluous. Indeed, they were for people such as us. For practice, we just learn the moves, before trying them on the biggest living target we could find hoping for the best. Sometimes we would win, at other times we would run away. There is no shame in running away, as long as you come back later to finish the job for good.

Shaun was somewhat stupefied by Chalon’s backhanded slap in the face. With his pale face turning beat red, Shaun recovered his rapier and prepared to fight once again. Chalon this time took a more aggressive approach. Shaun was surprised at the force Chalon applied each time he struck the blade. It took all of Shaun’s strength to hold onto the rapier. After fifteen strikes like this, Chalon did a downward strike, after evading the sharp end. This one was aimed at the hand. Had Shaun’s sword not have a handguard, Chalon might had broken the thumb. His strike did force Shaun to lose his grip on his rapier.

It was after this that he said flatly, “Good training. Thank you.”

A wry smile was Chalon’s only response to this statement. He returned the sheet of paper to Shaun. Shaun neatly folded his request before putting it on his vest pocket. Paper was always a bit of a luxury. As such, when request were cleared, they were put away for future usages.

After departing the stage, Chalon looked up into the sky and he noticed that it was noon. There was still time for a couple of more requests before dinner.