Slumped over at my favourite table in the common room of the Paunchy Pilgrim, I
woke to the sound of a noisy figurine battle, coming from the smoky game room.
The distinctive sound of gold sovereigns being jingled together; the slurred
yelling of men even more drunk than I was - this is what I woke to.

Groggily, I took a sip of my sparkleberry ale, inspecting its label, now damp
with the condensation. The drink that sloshed into my mouth was disgusting and
warm. I had obviously been asleep on the job for quite some time. That is, if
being dead-to-the-world drunk was my job. Stopping a passing barmaid by grabbing
her arm roughly, I took stock of her tray, and grabbed a fresh ale, flashing my
winningest smile as payment.

Clutching my fresh beverage, I stumbled into the game room, where a miniature
figure of Avechna the Avenger was giving it good to a figurine of Sylvie from
Delport. Luckily for Sylvie, she was made for getting it given. I can say things
like that because I was born in Delport.

I reached into my stained, tattered robes, feeling around for money to stake on
the fight. Sylvie was in a corner now, nibbling on a piece of sparkleberry to
replenish her energy, but things didn't look good. I thrust out a fist full of
coins.

"Ten thousand gold sovereigns on Sylvie!" I called out, and immediately got four
takers. I signaled to the bookie, who nodded in acknowledgement, and turned back
to watch the figurine battle. I drank deeply, savoring the subtlety of its
textures; appreciating the craftsmanship of the brewer. Who was I kidding? It
tasted like orclach bath water. To my parched throat, it was the nectar of the
Gods.

Avechna landed a vicious hook into Sylvie's gut, and Sylvie doubled over,
miniature tears welling up at the corners of her miniature eyes. Slumped over
with defeat written over her face, Sylvie seemed to be contemplating her life as
a miniature, as Avechna prepared to feed her an uppercut sandwich. I began
digging around in my robes, annoyed at my imminent financial loss.

Avechna swung a miniature fist upwards, using the rotation of his hips to power
the attack. It seemed to move in slow motion - a massive, meteoric punch
screaming towards Sylvie's face. BUT WAIT!

Tapping into reserves that she didn't know existed (though we can only speculate
about what a figurine really -knows-), Sylvie dodged the savage blow, looking on
as Avechna's uppercut connected with nothing but air; body twisting awkwardly as
he tries to maintain his sense of balance. Sylvie thrust her (relatively) giant
head outwards, connecting solidly with Avechna's face - the sound of marble
connecting with marble easy to hear in the silence of the hushed game room.

The Avechna figurine fell to the floor of the miniature ring, and scrambled to
stand back up, but the Madam of the Chateau d'Amour was already upon Him,
pounding away with tiny fists Delportian passion, giving Him no time to recover.
Tiny flecks of marble flew into the air, as Sylvie's onslaught continued.
Suddenly, with a sharp *crack*, the Avechna figurine split in half, and the
fight was over.

Sylvie stood in the center of the ring, flexing preposterously, as I made my
rounds, collecting my small fortune in winnings. Feeling the comforting weight
of gold coins in the sleeves of my robes, I made my way back to the common room,
where I proceeded to get roaring drunk. By myself.

---

I awoke under a starry sky - the sounds of rolling waves in the air, the taste
of salt on my tongue, and wet sand in my disheveled hair. The Inner Sea. The
city of New Celest.

Waking up on a beach in the middle of the night is less pleasant than it sounds.
Damp with the mist that rolls in from the sea, and shivering with cold, I
crawled over to the edge of the water, where a perfect moon hung in the clutches
of Mother Night. I began vomiting violently, apologizing silently to the
inhabitants of the Inner Sea. Sorry Lanikai and dolphin friends. Sorry, sea
turtles. Sorry, Roberto the Clam. I am so sorry.

---

In the depths of my drunken stupor, I bore the full brunt of my loneliness. My
abandonment. The man I called my father. The wife who disappeared without a
trace. The friends who shared my zeal, and ale. It was there that I allowed
myself to feel the gravity of my own melancholy. Standing on the desolate beach,
I looked out at the dark water, in the direction of the Sea of Despair.

Trakis, I thought: Trakis the aloof; Trakis the defenseless; Trakis the
friendless - the loveless.

A voice cut across the firmament, like a knife through the dull throb of my
hangover. The voice of my Goddess.

"Slacker." She said, and though I ducked instinctively, I have never known
Terentia to miss. An arc of white lightning streaked across the sky, lancing
into my chest, and blasting me backwards, further up the beach. Lady Terentia, I
am so sorry.

I called out to the Even-Bladed, but She had gone silent. I felt the weight of
Her displeasure. Her merciless judgment.

Still twitching from the after-effects of Terentia's chastisement, I ceased my
pathetic display of self pity. Wandering back towards Celest, I made my way to
the tailor's workshop, and there I began to sew.

A pair of velvet slippers, decadent and luxurious. A pair of silken gloves.
Pants and a shirt - the requisite trappings to live a life in the company of
others. I lost myself in the lullaby of scissors. The mundane repetition of
stitching. When I was finished, I looked at my work with pride. It felt good to
make something, once again.

Carrying my new clothes, I went to the bath house, first. Resident merians, and
supplicants on their way to the Tabernacles looked up as I walked past,
scrunching their noses at my assault on their senses. Celestian maidens watched
me with curious eyes, as I left my manly musk in the wake of my passing.

Sitting on a marble bench, soaking in the steam, I found a brush, and began to
scrub. I scrubbed away viciously, until it felt like my skin was on fire, and a
century of grime fell away. The bathwater was brown with a mountain of dirt, and
a desert's worth of sand; a river of sediment bearing away the sins of my past.
The skin underneath was pink and tender - unkissed by Father Sun, or anyone
else, for a Very Long Time.

I put on my new clothes, throwing out the old. A new man.

---

I wrote their names down on some scrap paper - just a list of names that
wouldn't mean anything to someone who picked it up. I had forgotten what they
looked like.

I showed the list to an Ecclesiar.

"Have you heard of any of those?" I asked, handing my list over.

Ponder. Furrow. Frown.

"No. I can't say that I do."

It's like having a pet dragon turtle, and asking the cousins you never see if
they can remember its favourite food. Not likely.

"No matter," I replied, and snatch my paper back.

I spent a week writing them letters; remembering their stories.

"Dear Collvan," I wrote, with a faint smile on my face. "I hope you're proud of
your boy. I still wear your last name, and drink at the Pilgrim. It makes me
think of old days."

"Dear Nico," I wrote. "It's spring now, here in Celest. Young pages, and nubile
Aqua spouts are prancing about the city. So far, I haven't been able to talk any
of them out of those tight grey trousers." Ah. Forgive me. That was
inappropriate.

The most difficult letter to write, I saved for last. I will not describe it
here.

I wrote letters upon letters; wrote to the point of exhaustion. Spilling my life
to them, and saying goodbye. When I was done, I went to the post office, and
mailed them. Those seagulls will be flying around for the rest of their lives.

I made my way to the harbour, and boarded the Flying Fish.

"The Isle of Light, Captain Serarn," I said, and gave him his 125 sovereigns.
Thief.

Dolphins followed us, making the weird noises that dolphins make. I waved,
remembering how much Visaas loved them.

We arrived at the island, and I waited until the ship left.

I took off my wedding band, turning it over and over. It was the first time I
had ever taken it off. I wound up my arm, preparing to cast it into the sea, but
I suddenly remembered something, and stopped.

Words had been engraved on the inside of the band, though I must have forgotten.
Looking at them closely for the first time in decades, I read the inscription.

"Now I know Love," It said, and a dam inside of me broke. I thought about her,
but there was no more resentment. Just a sweet sadness, like the way you miss
your childhood.

I pulled on the lever, and sat in the sand. I got more gold ready. Thief boat
captain.

---

It had been a while since I had tried. Casually strolling up to the shapely
young maiden perusing the catalogue of the Lodestar Athenaeum, I paused, leaning
against a heavy bookshelf.

I mastered subtlety long ago.

"Beatific vision of loveliness," I began. She looked up.

"I could not help but notice," I continued. "That you seem to have trouble
finding a book."

She smiled shyly. It was if her aura were opening up, as she readied herself for
my Inquisition.

"Good day, sir," she replied, displaying the most perfect set of teeth.

Lowering the hood of my robes, I ran my hand through my hair. I turned to look
at her, making sure she was aware that she had my full attention. A merbloom in
full flower, growing in a sea of literature.

"What are you looking for?" I asked.

"Do you know if this library has a copy of 'The Guide to Modern Love'?" She
asked. No idiot, I recognized an opening when I saw one.

"What would a radiant young woman like yourself want with a book like that?" I
gave her a wink. Just so she would, you know. Know.

She returned my glance with another smile, and I knew I was in.

"The Athenaeum has several scrolls on the subject. Perhaps if you'll allow me, I
can show you where they are located, in the stacks?" The smile of a cherub.

I was feeling more like my old self every day.

---

A familiar voice was calling out to me, but I was lost in a scroll. Drowning in
the sea of the Star Council's edicts. I tore myself away from the scroll I was
reading, and looked up.

"Hey!"

Enero La'Saet. An old face. An old friend.

"Why are you holding a key?" he asked. I was holding a key.

I shrugged, a stupid grin spreading on my face.

"Wait a moment," he said. He rummaged around in his pack, making the assortment
of odds and ends clink together loudly.

"Aha!" Enero exclaimed, and from the depths of his satchel, he pulled out an
iron key.

"I have one too. Maybe we can be…" he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Secret
key buddies."

I couldn't help but laugh. It was such a stupid thing to say, but it felt good
to have a friend.