10th of Ashan, 716
10th Break
10th Break
Ashan, the season of growth. As the darkness of Cylus finally faded, everything took a different rhythm in Etzos – and perhaps the rest of the world, too. People left their homes more often, they were joyful, even motivated to get things done. Farmers began practicing their professions once again, and animals were no longer caged in throughout the day. Everything took a different rhythm, indeed, and it was something Paplo noticed but cared not for regardless.
The Mortalborn was currently enjoying one of the rare days in which he had nothing to do. His class had been suspended due to infection spreading through the Sanitarium. His stomach was still satisfied from last night’s fest – he had found a conveniently dead wolf in the Farmlands – and his social obligations were currently null. No romantic partner to take care of, no innkeeper to remind him he was behind on rent, nor any test subject he had left caged in for study. For a moment, he pondered on that last point, as more than once he had forgotten about poor individuals such as those. No, he mentally confirmed, he had none of those. He just lost interest in them quite quickly, and then kept them for when he couldn’t fodder anywhere else.
However, he was free, and freedom he disliked. Being busy and having objectives was the basis of his life, always fulfilling this and that to not be left pondering on matters he had no business in. In moments such as this, he dwelled in his precise imagination. Using established facts, he planned future maneuvers, conversations or interactions, all of them with a hidden purpose. Speaking for people for no reason was pointless and stupid, and it was clear to him stupidity had never grown into his being. To enjoy the newfound sun, Paplo had rescued a lonely wooden chair found in an alley, and had instead placed it right after the Great Parhn Gate, just below the colossal statue of this Parhn individual. There, he sat under the sun, eating slice after slice of the sack of apples he had bought himself, cutting them with a small ivory knife made from his own rib. For him, said costal bones were almost useless, for he rarely needed protection from anything but the elements.
Occasionally, he’d wave to the guards changing shift. Most of those coming to their shift would approach him, and they’d ask him why was he sitting in the court. Before they had the time to explain the court was not a place for loitering, he informed them he had been given permission, and he’d offer one of these green apples as well as conversation if wished so. Because of this, he was left alone, and he could watch as people came and went by. Most of those were citizens, moving in or out of the city with their carts, animals, or just their baskets. It was only in occasions when Paplo saw these newcomers coming by, with their bags of clothes and stuff they had carried from wherever it is they came from. That he didn’t understood. Why carry stuff around? What was so important in those bags that it couldn’t be left behind?
Whenever these confused souls stopped to gape at the statue behind Paplo, or looked around confused, holding maps or their chins in thought, Paplo would flare his spark with strength. He had the habit of collecting mages, so to speak, for his later benefit. These mages, like Neronin or Aerlan, could always be traded in for favors from Vuda. A nice house and a barn full of produce would be the ideal. Were Vuda to offer him that, he wouldn’t doubt to betray those comrades, as they would call him. It wasn’t as if they would be killed; quite the contrary. They’d be offered good employment and a nice living in exchange of their freedom, but it was a bargain nonetheless. He’d be doing them a favor, really.
Paplo was growing more adept at locating mages. They used to be thin of build, pale in the flesh and suspicious in the eyes. This morning was proving to be quite unsuccessful in his hunt, per se, for nobody had yet approached him, drawn by his unique appeal. The origin of that appeal was a mystery, just like his ability to survive what no other living being could survive. Oh well, he thought, as he cut himself another slice of apple and placed it politely into his maws. The teacher crossed one leg over the other, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes, now enjoying the sunlight that barely warmed up the chilly Ashan morning.