Where are we going? I asked. Romeland, lad. It’s a place you have to try, since you are new here, says the bald man. What is your name? I ask. Ah, my name does not matter for where I’m taking you to, says the bald man. He after walking for a bit, her opens to door to a pub that explodes in noise as soon as we closed the door behind us. The stench of ale, vomit, piss and farts hits my nose as teethless bastards laugh from ear to ear after hearing a story of a woman falling down in a river bank with her legs up. What is everyone doing here on a Sunday morning? I ask. It is not yet Sunday, lad. Until you sleep, it is still Saturday night as far as we’re concerned. And since no one is going to work tomorrow, we’re celebrating that with a few pints, says the bald man. Why did you try and help me? I ask him. Ah, I wouldn’t think about that much. We just had that dick more than we hate you. At least for now, says the bald man. But why take me out of a drink? I ask. He starts laughing. Don’t worry. You’ll have to pay for your own damn drinks. I ain’t that generous to a spawn of Satan like you’s, he replied. But then why even talk to me? I ask. Because you’s the first wizard I had the chance of meeting. And I just have to ask some questions to someone presumably born from the seed of the depths of hell, says the bald man.
I sigh as I get my ale and drink a healthy gulp of it. Ask then, I tell him. How were you born? he asks. Like any normal human being ever, I reply. Was your mama a succubus? Or your daddy a wizard? Or did you have to crawl up? he asks with his eyes sparkling like the scalp of his head. My mother, I don’t remember much of her. She died a few months after I was born. No one knew why. My father disappeared soon after my mother died. He left me with a wizard and no one has ever heard of him. So, I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to, I tell the bald man. Then how do you know about your mother dying? he asks. My father had left a letter telling the wizard a few things, but not much about me, I continued explaining. So you’re here looking for your daddy? asks the bald man. No. Even if he were here, I wouldn’t know how he looked, what his name is or what he’d be doing. I am here because I was sent here to observe you all and your daily lives, I tell the man. Who sent you? he asks. The wizard my father left me with. He’d say, I’d learn a lot from you, I explain. Oh, so you came here to learn about us. I see now… says the bald man. No, not like that, I tell him. No? Then tell me your secrets, he says. What secrets? I ask. Tell me the secrets to magic. How you getting it? From where? What can you do? the bald man asks impatiently.
Everyone is born with magic within them. It’s just that some have more than others, just like some are stronger than others physically, I explained. I swear I’ll fucking cut you if you don’t start telling me the important stuff cause I already know all that, he tells me. Fine, calm down. We can’t control minds. Your body has special magic in it, thus we can’t really get into your head or kill you with magic. That special magic is what we call a blessing. It protects your mind, heart, soul and body from harm from other magic, I explain as a fight seems to break out in the pub. You are as skilled as a horse at knitting. I demand you make me a new locket or give me my money back, pleads John Doget. Don’t mind them, says the bald man. I did my job fine. I don’t know what you wanted for the price you paid, I gave you a decent lock, says John Brede. So magic can create in exchange for something, can interact with magic and things, but can’t destroy other magic, I try to explain in the commotion. I’ll put my foot so far up your arse you’ll get to smell my toes through your throat, says John Doget. I can smell your filth from here. No need to get closer you cheap pig, says Brede. Good people, good people. What is supposed to be there problem here? We are supposed to have a fine time, not a bad time, intervenes John Wyot. Get out from my face. That manure eater has to repay me for the shit job he did, says John Doget as he clenches a small knife in his hand. I’ll do non of that to someone like you’s, says John Brede. I’ll kill him! screams John Doget as he plunges with the knife at John Brede. John Wyot jumps in to try to stop him, only to get stabbed…
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