Chapter 19: What about Calvin?

When I considered my free time, I thought about the places that could be and the faces that could be met. I always favored the potential greatness in random recreation.

The Mayor however, couldn’t see his free time as anything else beyond a smoke break. Dismas clouded with tobacco fog was a little relieved. As soon as his free time ended, it would be back to addressing the lack of food, which he could do nothing about.

A recent string of crop failures resulted in a hungry and angry populace. He had already spent his purse ordering payloads but that wasn’t enough.

Luckily the captain and his troops managed to skewer a whale and bring it to shore, but that couldn’t feed the village all of winter.

He grabbed a fine moon letter from the young merchant that was supposed to come with the new seeds. Luiocles was meant to arrive a couple months ago but no word arrived from him.

Mayor Dismas was growing more tense and he took a few puffs from his pipe to relax.

He looked outside of his window, the only building with glass aside than the Priest’s estates. Dismas tried to imagine what happened to the scarecrow.

Roughly two and a half months since she went to look for that voice she was talking about. He conjured up a silly clown speech, one that convinced Vega to be gay and commit crimes.

The Mayor felt a tad bad for creating the image of Vega being exploited. Afterall, Vega was never offensive outside of the fairs. Dismas enjoyed the exercise of thinking about the scarecrow. That didn’t change how the town would get food in their bellies, but it helped him to create a world simple and where things made sense.

He rose from his bed and stepped into his office. Even in this time of crisis it was so disgustingly clean. Symmetrical and kempt, there was not a place of chaos. Except the letter.

Dismas pressed a finger tip to it, feeling the dried fur of the tail that bound the paper. He wished he could get a cow, maybe that could fix things. What if he went out and enlisted the help of some nearby towns? Could he go to Core Civitus and get the resources?

He surprised himself, he started to think of the potential. If he went outside and hitched his horses, perhaps there could be a real peace, not a manufactured one. But Dismas reminded himself he didn’t have the money to make the trip, not even enough to start it. He couldn’t get money from the Priest for he would complain and moan about the temple. Dismas didn’t know what to do.

A loud beating of wood introduced itself.

The beat came from the door. This was new, no one attempted to interrupt the Mayor on his day off. Well, Vega did but she doesn’t really count.

Moving to the door, he held his sword close and pressed his back straighter than a line. He licked a finger and rubbed the ends of his mustache and made curls in his hair. He cleared his throat and prepared himself for a visit that encouraged his unhappy routine.

“Who is it?”

“Mail for a Mista Mayear!” The accent was remarkably urban, very bizarre to hear. His inflection was defined by a high yet rough tone. Definitely not an aristocrat, maybe someone that learned how to read and was so enthralled by books that they adopt such an accent. Then again it could be that the tone of voice was crafted by mingling with free men, associationing the casual communication those populations enforce.

The Mayor was shocked, he imagined all that just by hearing a man’s voice. It was incredible, Dismas thought. He let go of his sword and opened the door to the rain outside.

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“Are you the Mayor of this village sir?” The man was covered head to toe in a straw raincoat. Dismas looked at his orange eyes and knew that he was clearly confused about the mail being sent.

“Yes, what is the matter son? Are you Luiocles?” He said, gently prodding at the mailman’s character.

“No sir! Its just… someone sent this order.”

“Orders tend to need that.”

“I m-mean that… a like, weird person sent it. Like someone that shouldn’t be able too?” The mailman bobbed his head side to side, trying to wrap around the sender’s identity. Dismas wasn’t having the mystery and he took a firm step forward, sending the mailman scooting to the side.

“Spit it out boy.” The Mayor demanded.

“...it was sent by a scarecrow.”

Dimas squinted his eyes at the mailman and looked upset that the mailman would even suggest a concept like that. Then he remembered a moment later about Vega and grabbed his nose in realization.

“Ohhhh. Of course.”

“Of course?!” The mailman blurted out.

“Yes of course you imbecile! She’s the only one who would bother to send anything. Come on, tell me the damage.” He beckoned with his hand to give him the mail. Dismas noticed that all of his movements now were instinctual rather than forced.

“Well, it's not just the message sir. Here!” The mail handed over a yellow sheet of paper tied now with a random flower. “I’ll be back in a moment!” The mailman raced off into a dark corner of the village.

Dismas looked around for anyone at this hour that was awake. No one in sight, just a river of water falling from the sky. He held the letter to his nose and sniffed for its location. The paper smelt wooden, it even had a bit of splinter on it. It didn’t smell particularly vulgar, which disappointed the Mayor.

He carefully untied the letter and leaned onto the door frame. His eyes looked over the writing which had read…

“Der Mista Mayear,

I jasst got bacc fram a begg caancert. I em havin fun an stuf,

I mat a pretti lady reecantli. See is eally cewl.

Allseww I larned how ta rite a bitt beter. I don’t noo y.

Bye da weighh, I saent samm coins bacc. Laave u,

Fram,

Vagaa ta Scarrcrow

PeeS

Taa lady haas beeg muscles. I fell dat u mighh want ta noo dat.”

Not only did the letter have a crude bit of writing, it also had crude drawings. Three ‘things’ were drawn. Vega was at the center with simple dots for eyes, a weird black triangle that was labeled Kaliba.

The last one had a stick figure of a woman and it appeared that Vega chose to draw two rectangles for her arms. It seemed in her mad drawing she forgot to label Florato’s name.

But don’t worry, she made sure that she wrote ‘BUFFY’ and made an arrow to her arms.

“Well, disregarding that blatant dehumanization, what is that? Coins?” Dismas held the writing close to his eyes and in the next moments he heard wheels turning on wet ground.

“Hello sir! A delivery of forty thousand gold has arrived.” The mailman said, now mounted on a horse covered in armor and pulling a cart behind him. “Minus whatever the Oligarchs taxed…”

“Of course. That would make sense…” Dismas' neck craned back and he strolled over to the cart. With the help of a mailman, they opened up the cart. Thousands of golden Oligarch and spirit faces met them. Pure Iozian gold.

“Holy shit.” Dismas laughed out. Then he had an idea. “Son, how much are the people you’re working with paying you?”

“A hundred brass for each job, why you ask?”

“How would you like to become my personal courier? I offer gold as payment.” Dismas roared out to him. The mailman's eyes opened wide and fast, and a great smile rose on his face.

“Yes sir!”

“Alright. Go over to the fortress, bring the captain over, now!” The mailman nodded and raced off to the distant fort. Dismas was astonished. A scarecrow managed to win the Concert of Combat!

Not only this, but she was kind enough to send a portion of her earnings. Dismas stared at the many gold faces and understood what was the solution. He was no longer going to waste away, he was finally going to turn this wasteland into an oasis of life.

And he had enough gold not only to get the food needed, but to make so many great and wondrous improvements to the village. Build a new aqueduct, construct a tunnel in order to get to neighboring villages, recruit engineers galore!

He imagined sending a gift, maybe even a letter to Vega.

Maybe in a couple years it would be a town, Dismas pondered. He turned to the water soaked road, and in that moment a strong breeze blew past. Dismas embraced the wind with great love.

“Thank you so much! Now I’m not going to be so fucking bored!”