There was beauty to be found in these parts of the world. The town over Shuldan was nested quite comfortably by several distinct beauties greatly underappreciated by the rest of Slavask. Old was the land which graced the men who stepped upon their soil. Cool was the air in which calm winds carried. Slavask was infamous for its near perpetual winter environment. While it was summer, it was still nippy. It didn’t bother Daryl so much and he had learned to make due with the change in climate. It was so much different from Idonia, where the weather was always balanced thanks to its temperate regions. In the distance, the sound of music and a droning chord had resonated across the land. A soft voice accompanied it, followed by the slow beat of drums and instrumental strings. It was old, archaic, passionate. The voice came from that of the coastal folk; natives who live alongside the Shuldan townsfolk. Many of them were the bird folk of Slavask: corvas and osprins. Daryl turned his head to face the direction of the music. He felt drawn toward it. A semblance of peace washed over him as he listened to the gentle drones and the beat of the drums, the soft voice of the bird folk. A small plume of smoke arose from the direction he was facing. A bonfire most likely.Typically expected with tribes. He kept his path toward the town until he noticed that he wasn’t following Idaya anymore. He stopped, looked behind him, and watched as the young corva stared off into the distance where whatever ceremony the coastal folk were conducting was. Though her beak moved, her voice was low and quiet, uttering in her native tongue as though she was singing alongside her people. Daryl walked back and approached Idaya, his voice calm and concerned, “Everything alright?” he asked. “Yes. Just bidding farewell to another soul. Even if I am not there, even if I’m not off the coast anymore, I am still one of them, and I will still pay my respects to them.” Death… it has followed him here. Typical of it to taunt him with another tragedy from afar. Even now, he felt his words creep into his ear, whispering his taunts; “Another soul for the taking, Daryl. I am everywhere, and I am nowhere.” “You have no right to be here, tyrant. Why should I listen to your mocking words?” “Foolish of you to assume I do not have a right to be anywhere Daryl. Such is my will in this world. Such is the course of which all things will tread. Life ends all the same. You are naive to think I’d follow you when I am anywhere and everywhere in the world.” “It is naught but tragedy. For how can you ask a grieving mother whose child took his first and laugh breath that it is the natural order of things? For how can it be right for that babe who will never know the gentle touch or caress of a loving hand? And what of children who grew up without their mothers, who would never experience the joy and the love they bring with their very presence? Where is there fairness in that?” “Ah, I see you are still as you were a child, young Daryl. Fairness is not something to be given or asked for, but taken. And even then with a fair life, she would die all the same. Nothing could save her from the cancer Daryl.” “I have bested the Black Flu, the Kuronic Plague and Itaya’s Disease! I’ve bent prions to my will and defied all terminal illnesses and mutations! And every day, my studies have brought me closer to your demise!” “You fiddle with means beyond your basic human comprehension. For a man of logic and rationale, you delve into methods others would call ‘supernatural’ or ‘magical.’” “Everything has laws and rules. There is nothing beyond my comprehension.” “Fool, the surface of which you have scratched is only but the looking glass for what is not meant for your eyes or your hands. What is life to you when you throw away everything that makes you human? What is worth toi devoid yourself of any meaning just to defeat me? “You talk of fairness and here you change the nature of the game of which nature dictates my will to reap. A way to cheat this game of cat and mouse. Should you succeed, what of the trees that fall by axe and storm and disease? What of the suckling lambs torn from their mother’s teat by the hungers of man as they slaughter their mother for meat? What of the lion cub who is slain by a lion of a rival pride? The extinction of a hive of wasps as ants swarm the huts? What of the wars waged between men? “Your sights are narrow as is your mind. What say you, Daryl, when you realize the immortality you seek will be wasted by the insatiability of life’s basic drives and needs? Civilized or none, they will always act according to their wills.” Daryl turned away from death’s shade as he focused back on Idaya. The young corva had her hands clasped together as she prayed in her native tongue. “We should go, Idaya. Death’s embrace has stolen another soul from this plane,” Daryl said as he simply turned away to continue his path. Idaya had ignored him up until she had finished her prayer. “I apologize for the delay. I wanted to bid my kin farewell. You might look upon death so coldly but the fleeting of life at least deserves remembrance and well wishes regardless.” There was no judgement or spite in her voice. Her tone was still as soft and before, even understanding when she addressed Daryl. However, she spoke in such a way that her words sounded so matter of fact like that the human couldn’t help but question her. “I thought you were a simple town girl? Here you speak like you’re a coastal native yourself.” “Because I am. My father moved us to town while I was still a young chick.” The thought of death’s presence was removed from Daryl’s mind as the conversation returned to that of his patient new friend. “Was the move in regards to animosity?” “No, not at all. Shuldan and our tribe have for so long coexisted that we share a bond. A bond cultivated and strengthened by the land of which we inhabit. When ones such as my father and mother complete a rite, they’re given an option as to what direction they should take in life. To live among the tribesmen of the lands or the civilized folk of Shuldan.” “If there’s anything history taught me is that such coexistence is naught but mere fantasy and illusion. And as such, they rarely last if there is any semblance of it.” “The past two hundred years prove otherwise. We’ve learned to balance our rights and wills and how we live our lives, so long as we maintain balance in these parts. Slavask is a cold and harsh place, but there is much to appreciate here. Even for the industrious folk like the men of Ishmael Enterprises stay their hands from disturbing this balance.” Daryl couldn’t very well see any altruistic elements behind this as companies hardly cared about environmental concerns or ecosystem disturbances. Not that Daryl was concerned about the persistence and ever changing nature of the environment that corporate greed could never truly control, but he doubted Ismael Enterprises were that conscientious. “So, Shuldan balances nature and industry for its people?” Daryl asked. “That’s a rather generalized term to use but not inaccurate. Sometimes Orgyn has to push and assert his authority against those who disturb the balance.” “He must have a lot of enemies then.” “No, quite the opposite. He is very well respected among the townsfolk and tribalfolk. His influence runs deep in every corner of Shuldan.” “You’re not concerned that he could be corrupt?” “If he was, we would have had 200 years to discover that. Orgyn is good folk, Daryl. You’ll see.” The two approached the border of the town, where the soil of the fields meet the concrete of the streets. There hadn’t been extensive road building to connect the town to the rest of Slavask but traders do come and go. The Chimeras of Slavask never paid much mind to the workings of the northern settlements such as Shuldan. But the town prospered and its enterprises became a driving economic force despite the small scale operations that are conducted here. While Daryl had heard much about the infamous bread, he was tempted to try it. When he did, he was astounded by how the Slavaskans underappreciated their breadwork. There were enough wheat fields to need the demands of many towns in need of bread. Perhaps it was because of how much their mariner lifestyle had accompanied their diet and they had appreciated moisture more than they should. Idaya herself didn’t eat whale or fish meat so much so she never really complained about the bread. She had enjoyed it as much as he did. But it was a curious thought. He wondered exactly what the secret was that made these folk so dependent on whaling and fishing. Everywhere he went, there were local fish parlors that sold a wide variety of different cuisines. Sometimes they just sell bulks of fish. They were seen across the district. “I don’t know why Slavaskans complain about the bread. There isn’t too much dryness to them,” Baxter commented. “During the Idonian famine, people would kill each other for bread.” “Taste, texture, and the fact that we have to save up on moisture since the river’s run bad and we rely on imports of water. Besides, the last time we tried to use water drawn from the river, people got sick.” “Anything serious in there? I don’t suppose you worry about stagnancy.” She shook her head, “No, the water wasn’t stagnant. It's a running river and it comes from the lake down south.” A curious thing. There weren’t too many pathogens that exist in Slavask’s natural waters to cause illnesses. “Must have been a virus. Luckily you didn’t get parasites. But the bread’s pretty decent regardless. In my line of work, I can’t afford luxuries so I made good with the food I can procure near me.” “Sounds like we got a few things in common.” Daryl just smiled and turned to Idaya, “The fact that we work hard and have little in need of rest?” “Oh no, I have my resting periods. I go to the plays. For a man who loves theaters, don’t you attend to them?” “Only when I’m forced into relief or when I am with company.” “Then maybe you and I should go see some plays during the week. They don’t cost much and the olid director, Kuro, is quite the master of the stage. He isn’t one to branch out though. Doesn’t like leaving Shuldan.” As the two continued their way through town, Daryl paced his steps slowly to admire the architectural design of the town. Typical old Slavaskan architecture where the stonework laid out the foundations of the structures. The stonework was smoothed out carefully, segments of the stones were chiseled out for more developed walls, doorways and windows. The second stories were made of the same material. However, the stone cuts, trims and the texture were all differentiating from one another to make the structure stand out more. The walls had a cream coat to them in comparison to the trims and cuts which had a more limestone appearance. That was only the central district. On the left side of town, across one of the bridges, there laid brickwork houses. Though it was hard to see at a distance, he assumed that it was the common district for workers of the company and fishermen of the sea, considering that it was where the docks and Ishmael Enterprises were located. So, given what he had seen in this center district, this must be where the middle class folk reside. There were a couple manors further in but he assumed they were estates connected to the political figures of the town. The third district then must comprise of the higher class folk, and probably the founder, unless the founder was one who operated within the town hall. People paved the pavements from one end of the street to another. Though much of the streets were calm and quiet, there was the occasional gossip between townsfolk about the latest news: such as the failure of the communist revolution of Slavaskl. a water treatment plant being installed just further up the Suldan river-though nobody wants to risk another viral infection,- and the conflict between the neighboring countries of Udain and Klavaska. It was hardly anything Daryl paid mind to. At the playground, there were children at play. Corvas, humans, and the osprins, who bore the resemblance of their wild cousins, the ospreys. They were playing a rather odd game, and their guardians watching them were none the wiser of what their little game entailed. It was based on an old Shuldan custom where the sharing of one’s clean water was a gesture of good will. Such was sharing one’s bread as a gesture of comradery, especially during harsh times. The kids traded toys, nuts, buttons and other small items that they found around town. There wasn’t much special significance to it. Though the kids all carried with them little shovers, their pants were dirtied and torn and their hands were caked with dirt. A scavenger hunt perhaps. Everyone was in their own little world for the most part. But it did not take too long for some heads to turn toward Daryl’s direction. Judging by their expressions, he assumed they weren’t exactly receptive. He imagined building those bonds and bridges was going to be a more difficult task than Idaya made it sound. “I thought the tales of Dr. Moriarto pass by the lips of neighbors? Or are they suffering from short term memory loss?” he joked and smiled at Idaya. “They don’t exactly know what you look like. All they had heard was that a famous doctor was coming to town. And there were several other outsiders who came off the train alongside you,” Idaya explained. “Tis a shame. I don’t suppose Orgyn and others like him are as wary of outsiders?” “No, not at all. They have to maintain a professional relationship with others outside of the town. The other neighboring towns near us are Gadrin and Shuia. Since they rely on us for food distribution as much as we rely on them for water imports and other provisions, the town mayors always have to make sure that our homes may stand and our people prosper.” Time passed as the two continued their conversation. Daryl was lucky enough to have run into Idaya when he did. The sweet young raven lass was verily level headed than what he came to expect from the townsfolk here. Her kind nature had also drawn in quite a few younglings that were playing in the street. From how they reacted-joyously and gleefully as though she was their own mother-the corva’s gentle heart must have been that of a child’s. She knelt down to position herself at their height as they came to her with all sorts of little goodies and treasures. It was rather quaint and delightful. “Idaya! Idaya! Look what we found! Look what we found!” one of the little osprins called out as he ran up holding a bundle of dir encrusted candles. The young bird’s feathers were caked with mud and dirt. No doubt they must have been partaking in treasure hunts too. “Six candles in a bundle? Now that is a proper find!” Idaya replied with her voice so full of life and love. One could hardly imagine a young adult like Idaya with such motherly mannerisms, even though she had put on this child like behavior. “I have a great deal of treasures myself too. Perhaps we could trade for em, huh?” “Oh! What do you got? What do you got?” the young bird exclaimed, his feathers bristling with life. A small smile stretched across Daryl’s cheeks as he had come to see the rare moment of tenderness unfold before him. He always saw children at play, sharing their happiness with others or that of their mothers. It was something nostalgic… and something that reminded him of those good times he had with his mother. “I got six walnuts, three hairpins, a little wheel of knitting thread, and a button,” Idaya spoke as she pulled out all assorted miscellaneous items for the child. “No way! Hairpins and thread? Those are definitely what I need!” the child took a hairpin and the little wheel of thread as he handed her the candles. “Wait! Idaya! I want a hairpin too! I got some work gloves hereI found buried!” a young human girl called out. Buried work gloves? Just where do these kids find these things? For that matter, why bury candles and threads? Was it some odd Shuldan custom found among children? Next thing he’ll know, Daryl will discover entire societies run by children. Several minutes were spent trading items between Idaya and the kids. Daryl watched as one of them approached the doctor and handed out some work gloves, “Excuse me sir! Would you like to trade too?” The doctor shifted sheepishly with his hands in his pockets, “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to trade. I’m an outsider,” he said. “So?” “You don’t care about that?” “I care balls what the adults think.” Idaya’s voice turned stern and harsh when she heard the boy, “Adam, langage.” “Sorry ma’am,” the boy turned his attention back to the doctor. “We’re free thinkers! We talk to whom we want and trade with whomever we want.” “Sometimes it's not safe to talk to strangers.” “We know that. But Idaya’s one of us. She’s a smart adult. And if she likes you, you’re alright in our books.” “Now how bout that,” Daryl smiled and looked at Idaya. “These kids are rather perceptive as they are respectful. Minus the language.” “Well, what can I say? I’m rather perceptive myself. There’s one thing we adults take for granted and it is that our children are smarter than they let on,” Idaya said. Daryl could not argue against that. Though he still had nothing to trade with the young lad. “Unfortunately kid, I don’t have anything to trade. Are you willing to trade with just about anything?” “Mostly. Just as long as it is nothing sharp or dangerous,” the boy replied. “I can understand that. Not everything is appropriate to trade. Like I said, I don’t really have anything. No buttons, nuts, pins or stuff like that.” “That’s alright. This season’s gonna be ripe with nuts falling from the trees. They’re like, our currency. Kinda. You can trade anything for anything but nuts are common enough that they don’t have too much value alone.” The boy then returned back to the rest of the group as Idaya had finished her little trade deals with the children. “Now then, we have to get going but it was wonderful seeing you. Thank you for your gifts,” Idaya then bowed to the children before standing up. “Come on Daryl, we’re just about at city hall.” Daryl wasted no time making way to the grand structure. It was an elaborate structure of carved marble walls with granite trims. It almost had a modern feel to it given how clean and paved the stonework was in comparison to the rest of the town. It was Slavaskan architecture yes, but more urban. Most of the center district was pretty urban in and of itself. No doubt this building represents the mediators. That was if Orgyn was of the family of mediators. The two made their way up a small flight of steps, passing through the overhead that provided shade from the barely existent sun. The brass door entrance nested within a finely sculpted archway was dotted with hieroglyphics. Or at least, that’s what they appeared to Daryl. There were sixteen finely sculpted and chiseled squares that had a visual representation of what he can only assume was the history of the town. “This was commissioned by an Idonian artist ten years after town was recognized by Slavask. Orgyn wanted to memorialize it on the front door. He was quite the metalsmith despite not having any experience in it,” Idaya explained. “Surprised he took on such a grand commission in the first place if this was a testament of the town’s history.” The doctor glanced over the symbolic visual storytelling of bird-like figures meeting human-like ones. Both had their hands extended. The next were simplistic designs of what is brick and stone. It was a history of the town, just like he had thought. The middle image of the door however, had a larger frame and encompassed the center than the other small frames. He wasn’t sure why this particular image was large and focused. He was poised to ask Idaya about it. The image was that of a large hourglass like structure that sat in the middle of the town. In the background, the faint chiseled figure of a whale could be seen rather subtly behind it. It was like a cloud and it blended seamlessly into the frame. “Idaya, what’s with the hourglass?” Daryl pointed to the frame. “That? Oh. That’s actually one of our landmarks. It was Vadan’s greatest creation. That was actually made rather recently,” she explained. “When was this?” he asked. “About ten years ago.” “And this artist from nearly two hundred years ago was able to create a perfect rendition of this hourglass constructed in your city from ten years ago?” “I know. It was strange. They say there are parts of the world that are more intimately connected with the spiritual world. Like here in Shuldan. The coastal folk are deeply connected to the land and the worlds beyond. They say you dream of the past, of the future, and you can even dream as someone else entirely. The artist who came here working on this door had a dream on the third day since he started the project. He dreamt of a great hourglass upon Ushak’s hill. That’s north of here, outside of town.” “I’m not exactly a spiritualist myself as many aspects of our worlds are often poorly described in such superstitious means.” “This is our history and culture Daryl,” she reminded him patiently and gently, “I can understand why it’d be hard for someone like you to believe in it but we do. Orgyn himself can attest to it as well given his longevity.” Daryl had not realized that his words might have offended her. Even if she understood why he’d think like that, no doubt she must have felt the sting of his words. “I must apologize, Idaya. I didn't mean to sound so arrogant or dismissive of this. I’ve stopped caring about spiritual manners when I had lost my mother. But it was not in my right to behave in such a matter.” “I see. I can certainly understand that. Still, I ask you to be considerate of our ways and to mind your tongue my friend.” “I’ll keep that in mind.” The inside of city hall had this rich scent of treated dark wood. The walls had the perfect uniform of mahogany. The floors were dark oak. The desks and seats had the same color and wood that complimented the walls. From the entrance there laid the waiting room, a receptionist desk, and the offices on the other side of the archway that stood beside the receptionist.. At the right coming into the offices, the great grandfather clock ticked by the second. City Hall was quiet, but the building was not empty. The clerks were tending to their business as part of their routine working hours minus visitors. It shouldn’t have been too hard to search for a 200 year old man. But then, Daryl had no idea what Orgyn looked like. Idaya knew what she was looking for. However, after a thorough investigation of the office, she couldn’t find the founder anywhere. She made her way to the entrance and approached the receptionist. “Excuse me, is Orgyn Daminski available? Doctor Daryl Moriarto arrived and he wished to see him.” The receptionist looked up from her desk at Idaya and then over at Daryl, “You’re the genius doctor Moriarto?” she asked. “The one and only. Is Orgyn Daminski in?” he asked. “Unfortunately, he is not. He had to leave for the Cabbarot. You just missed him about ten minutes ago. He isn’t going to be expecting visitors though and the Cabbarot manners are not meant for outsiders unless Orgyn himself were to give you permission.” Well there went his time. Though he supposed he only had himself to blame for that. Daryl pulled his head back, looked at the ceiling with a deep breath in and sighed. He was gonna be here for a while. A part of him hoped he wouldn’t have to waste anymore time and have this be another moment where he was forced into taking a break. “Sorry Daryl. I didn’t mean to hold you up with the kids like that,” Idaya spoke. “It is no issue. A part of me didn’t expect to run into him anytime soon.” He was lying of course. No doubt Orgyn would have accompanied him to this Cabbarot if he had met him on time. That didn’t matter though. He had all the time in the world to meet him when he wasn’t busy. Besides, he had enjoyed his time with the corva woman. And the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted her companionship. “So, Idaya… you said that the theatre is across from city hall right?”