Jogid began channeling through the practiced hand motions, etching glowing runes directly onto another dimension, and after the smell of ash dissipated with the breeze, the doorway to his private sanctum coalesced.
He grimaced as he sucked in his abdomen, contorting to fit through the confined chamber. His wings scraped the close walls harshly before he twisted further to wedge the rest of his scaly frame inside the physically cramped, yet optically, endlessly vast space.
When he made sure the portal was sealed off from the real world, he collapsed right there. Barely. His knees pressed painfully against the hard floor, while his shoulders brushed against the enclosing walls.
The air felt stifling. His chest felt constricted with each breath. Yet if he gazed around, the dimensions seemed to stretch on for eternity—a glowing red void with no visible boundaries.
Drawing air deep into his lungs, Jogid released it all in a roar that seemed to shake the endless void. The sound reverberated with the force of his frustrations given voice. The churned up particles in the air swirled around him—ashes and ginger like sparks that he could taste on his tongue. And then, everything was…
Clear.
He exited through the portal with even more difficulty than when he went in, but his shoulders felt lighter than a rosewood fairy’s wings.
Back in front of village square, Jogid lifted his palm and inscribed a glowing sigil upon the air, casting another—simpler—spell. The rune pulsed brighter with each repetition of the summoning words drifting from his lips.
Now, I wait.
Right then and there, he sat cross-legged and went into meditation.
Master Kaito’s final words drifted back to him... ‘the festival’s heart isn’t measured by the gold it spends…’
‘...the gold it spends…’
It’s not exactly about solving problems, he mused silently. Master Kaito’s teachings weren’t just instructions; they were insights into navigating the subtleties of communal harmony.
The Great Master’s wisdom was truly unparalleled.
His meditation continued until the packed earth began churning. Scutus gradually emerged, his white carapace powdered with soil as he clicked his mandibles respectfully.
“I’ve received your message, Master Jogid?”
“Good. Please assemble a small, trusted squad. You will find the target at these coordinates.”
He traced symbols on Scutus’ outstretched claw, transferring the location directly. Scutus studied the glowing marks before looking back up.
“It shall be done, Master.”
Jogid placed his hand over Scutu’s shoulder. “Remember, bring four. Take care not to disturb local wildlife. And Scutus, may the suns serve you.”
The megnac general snapped off a sharp salute. “Understood!” With a grinding of segments, he began burrowing back down.
Jogid eyed the leftover hole pensively. Thank you, Great Master.
▬▬ι════════ﺤ
Jogid pushed through the tavern doors with a triumphant grin, four bulging sacks slung over his shoulders. His claws left gouges in the floorboards from the considerable weight as he heaved his load onto the nearest table.
Finn ambled over, absently wiping an ochre-stained rag over a tankard. He froze, mouth falling open as Jogid carefully extracted a limp golden body from one sack—a basilisk with skin and scales that shone like finely-wrought coins, glinting in the firelight.
“By my blessed aunt’s bunions! Are those...golden basilisks?” Finn rasped, seemingly having lost his voice momentarily.
Jogid smiled indulgently, hauling out three more of the precious creatures. “A small token of thanks. I know offering your booth location was no easy concession.”
Finn just stared, still dumbfounded by this princely gift now gracing his humble tavern. He reached out a hand tentatively to touch the gleaming scales. “Holy demon king’s—”
Jogid cleared his throat, regaining the man’s attention. “I did have one more small request, if you would oblige me?” At Finn’s mute nod, Jogid retrieved a handful of scrolls from his robe, unraveling them to reveal prepaid coupons for Finn’s booth during the festival. “Some food vouchers for your stand, to be distributed by the Calmo administration? I’ve already prepared them.”
Finn found his voice again. “A handful? For these beauties, you can have two!” He eagerly accepted the small pre-prepared scrolls.
“That’s fantastic! Could you sign these with magical ink? That’ll make them good to go.”
Just then, the door opened to admit Magister Brena. Her sharp eyes instantly zeroed in on Jogid. “There you are! I’ve stewed all afternoon over this menu affair…”
She trailed off as Jogid pressed a few of the scrolls into her hands. “My apologies for the upset, Brena. Please enjoy these vouchers for Finn’s traditional basilisk dishes at the festival. And can I trust you to hand them to other villagers who may also be seeking traditional Calmo cuisine?”
From the corner of his eye, Jogid spotted Finn shooting him an approving wink.
Brena examined the coupons in surprise. “Well, I... this is unexpected, Jogid. You’ve managed to surprise me,” she said while her finger traced over the official village seal impressed into the wax.
Jogid bowed slightly. “It’s my duty to ensure everyone enjoys the festival.”
“I, thank you, Jogid. This is a kind gesture.”
“Your words honor me, but I’ve learned that tradition and community go hand in hand.”
“Well done, lad. You handled that better than a diplomat,” Finn chuckled.
Jogid gestured to an empty chair near the fire. “Brena, since we’re here, would you like to join me for supper?”
“Ya, perfect timing! I was just about to dish something out myself. It’s been a long day.”
Jogid released a short, somewhat nervous laugh, accompanied by a slightly awkward sigh, and said “Tell me about it.”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind that, Master Jogid. I’m indeed a little hungry,” Brena replied.
Finn perked up. “Well now, you’re both in luck. I just finished a batch of hoptoad sauté. We can all eat together.”
Before Brena could reply, Finn swept over a piping hot plate of diced hoptoad legs seared to perfection. He topped it off with a flourish of garnish and spices.
Brena eyed the exotic dish dubiously.
“Sir Finn, I don’t think she eats—”
“Master Jogid, please. I could surely…try them…if they’re made by Finn—His cooking is an exception.”
The three of them occupied a table and Finn brought three tankards brimming with Soothing Dose. Laughter and easy conversation flowed as effortlessly as their drinks while the crackling hearth warmed their bodies as well as their newfound respect for each other.
“This is... actually quite good,” she admitted, scraping up the last morsel from her plate.
“Seems, there’s more to appreciate of this festival, than just fun and games,” Jogid said while soothing ale dripped down the sides of his mouth and down his scaly neck.
“That’s food fer ya,” Finn said, gesturing to the plates. “All it takes is a good meal to see the world, or even just a dish, a little differently.”
Brena raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from her tankard. “Well, I’ll be. Maybe there’s something to this mixing old with new after all.”
A laugh suddenly escaped Jogid’s dragon-like mouth.
“Did I say something amusing?” Brena asked.
“It’s nothing. I just think the mayor would appreciate what you just said.”
Finn raised his tankard. “To good food and pleasant surprises!”
Jogid met Brena’s smile with one of his own as they ate. I may never see as far as Master Kaito does, but I now understand the beauty he sees in Calmo.
▬▬ι════════ﺤ
Jogid sat upon the center of village square as the morning sun crested over the rooftops, his eyes closed. His contemplations were on the finalized festival layout. This will do.
A small gust heralded Pronotum’s arrival. As always, he clicked his mandibles respectfully as Jogid looked up.
“You summoned me, Master Jogid?”
Jogid smiled, standing smoothly. “Yes, please deliver this missive to Rosto in Eastscar regarding the booth placement matter.”
He held out a scroll, sealed with wax.
Pronotum accepted it with a tilting of his horned head. “Does this mean you found resolution?”
“Indeed. The solution turned out to be golden basilisks,” Jogid chuckled. “Also, we’re selling vouchers to Eastscar for Finn’s stand. The funds will help support the festival.”
“A clever strategy, Master Jogid. The Great Project shall be a splendid event.”
“The message inside details our new arrangement. Ensure it reaches Rosto promptly,” Jogid said.
“Understood, Master Jogid. Will there be anything else?”
“One more thing,” Jogid clasped Pronotum’s shoulder. “Well done to all. And if you see Albus, extend my thanks to him. His assistance was invaluable.”
Pronotum vowed. “Of course, Master Jogid.” With a snap of wings, the courier took off into the bright morning.
Jogid watched him diminish into the distance, pride and anticipation for the festival swelling in his breast. All was in order.
Jogid began channeling through the practiced hand motions, etching glowing runes directly onto another dimension, and after the smell of ash dissipated with the breeze, the doorway to his private sanctum coalesced.
He grimaced as he sucked in his abdomen, contorting to fit through the confined chamber. His wings scraped the close walls harshly before he twisted further to wedge the rest of his scaly frame inside the physically cramped, yet optically, endlessly vast space.
When he made sure the portal was sealed off from the real world, he collapsed right there. Barely. His knees pressed painfully against the hard floor, while his shoulders brushed against the enclosing walls.
The air felt stifling. His chest felt constricted with each breath. Yet if he gazed around, the dimensions seemed to stretch on for eternity—a glowing red void with no visible boundaries.
Drawing air deep into his lungs, Jogid released it all in a roar that seemed to shake the endless void. The sound reverberated with the force of his frustrations given voice. The churned up particles in the air swirled around him—ashes and ginger like sparks that he could taste on his tongue. And then, everything was…
Clear.
He exited through the portal with even more difficulty than when he went in, but his shoulders felt lighter than a rosewood fairy’s wings.
Back in front of village square, Jogid lifted his palm and inscribed a glowing sigil upon the air, casting another—simpler—spell. The rune pulsed brighter with each repetition of the summoning words drifting from his lips.
Now, I wait.
Right then and there, he sat cross-legged and went into meditation.
Master Kaito’s final words drifted back to him... ‘the festival’s heart isn’t measured by the gold it spends…’
‘...the gold it spends…’
It’s not exactly about solving problems, he mused silently. Master Kaito’s teachings weren’t just instructions; they were insights into navigating the subtleties of communal harmony.
The Great Master’s wisdom was truly unparalleled.
His meditation continued until the packed earth began churning. Scutus gradually emerged, his white carapace powdered with soil as he clicked his mandibles respectfully.
“I’ve received your message, Master Jogid?”
“Good. Please assemble a small, trusted squad. You will find the target at these coordinates.”
He traced symbols on Scutus’ outstretched claw, transferring the location directly. Scutus studied the glowing marks before looking back up.
“It shall be done, Master.”
Jogid placed his hand over Scutu’s shoulder. “Remember, bring four. Take care not to disturb local wildlife. And Scutus, may the suns serve you.”
The megnac general snapped off a sharp salute. “Understood!” With a grinding of segments, he began burrowing back down.
Jogid eyed the leftover hole pensively. Thank you, Great Master.
▬▬ι════════ﺤ
Jogid pushed through the tavern doors with a triumphant grin, four bulging sacks slung over his shoulders. His claws left gouges in the floorboards from the considerable weight as he heaved his load onto the nearest table.
Finn ambled over, absently wiping an ochre-stained rag over a tankard. He froze, mouth falling open as Jogid carefully extracted a limp golden body from one sack—a basilisk with skin and scales that shone like finely-wrought coins, glinting in the firelight.
“By my blessed aunt’s bunions! Are those...golden basilisks?” Finn rasped, seemingly having lost his voice momentarily.
Jogid smiled indulgently, hauling out three more of the precious creatures. “A small token of thanks. I know offering your booth location was no easy concession.”
Finn just stared, still dumbfounded by this princely gift now gracing his humble tavern. He reached out a hand tentatively to touch the gleaming scales. “Holy demon king’s—”
Jogid cleared his throat, regaining the man’s attention. “I did have one more small request, if you would oblige me?” At Finn’s mute nod, Jogid retrieved a handful of scrolls from his robe, unraveling them to reveal prepaid coupons for Finn’s booth during the festival. “Some food vouchers for your stand, to be distributed by the Calmo administration? I’ve already prepared them.”
Finn found his voice again. “A handful? For these beauties, you can have two!” He eagerly accepted the small pre-prepared scrolls.
“That’s fantastic! Could you sign these with magical ink? That’ll make them good to go.”
Just then, the door opened to admit Magister Brena. Her sharp eyes instantly zeroed in on Jogid. “There you are! I’ve stewed all afternoon over this menu affair…”
She trailed off as Jogid pressed a few of the scrolls into her hands. “My apologies for the upset, Brena. Please enjoy these vouchers for Finn’s traditional basilisk dishes at the festival. And can I trust you to hand them to other villagers who may also be seeking traditional Calmo cuisine?”
From the corner of his eye, Jogid spotted Finn shooting him an approving wink.
Brena examined the coupons in surprise. “Well, I... this is unexpected, Jogid. You’ve managed to surprise me,” she said while her finger traced over the official village seal impressed into the wax.
Jogid bowed slightly. “It’s my duty to ensure everyone enjoys the festival.”
“I, thank you, Jogid. This is a kind gesture.”
“Your words honor me, but I’ve learned that tradition and community go hand in hand.”
“Well done, lad. You handled that better than a diplomat,” Finn chuckled.
Jogid gestured to an empty chair near the fire. “Brena, since we’re here, would you like to join me for supper?”
“Ya, perfect timing! I was just about to dish something out myself. It’s been a long day.”
Jogid released a short, somewhat nervous laugh, accompanied by a slightly awkward sigh, and said “Tell me about it.”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind that, Master Jogid. I’m indeed a little hungry,” Brena replied.
Finn perked up. “Well now, you’re both in luck. I just finished a batch of hoptoad sauté. We can all eat together.”
Before Brena could reply, Finn swept over a piping hot plate of diced hoptoad legs seared to perfection. He topped it off with a flourish of garnish and spices.
Brena eyed the exotic dish dubiously.
“Sir Finn, I don’t think she eats—”
“Master Jogid, please. I could surely…try them…if they’re made by Finn—His cooking is an exception.”
The three of them occupied a table and Finn brought three tankards brimming with Soothing Dose. Laughter and easy conversation flowed as effortlessly as their drinks while the crackling hearth warmed their bodies as well as their newfound respect for each other.
“This is... actually quite good,” she admitted, scraping up the last morsel from her plate.
“Seems, there’s more to appreciate of this festival, than just fun and games,” Jogid said while soothing ale dripped down the sides of his mouth and down his scaly neck.
“That’s food fer ya,” Finn said, gesturing to the plates. “All it takes is a good meal to see the world, or even just a dish, a little differently.”
Brena raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from her tankard. “Well, I’ll be. Maybe there’s something to this mixing old with new after all.”
A laugh suddenly escaped Jogid’s dragon-like mouth.
“Did I say something amusing?” Brena asked.
“It’s nothing. I just think the mayor would appreciate what you just said.”
Finn raised his tankard. “To good food and pleasant surprises!”
Jogid met Brena’s smile with one of his own as they ate. I may never see as far as Master Kaito does, but I now understand the beauty he sees in Calmo.
▬▬ι════════ﺤ
Jogid sat upon the center of village square as the morning sun crested over the rooftops, his eyes closed. His contemplations were on the finalized festival layout. This will do.
A small gust heralded Pronotum’s arrival. As always, he clicked his mandibles respectfully as Jogid looked up.
“You summoned me, Master Jogid?”
Jogid smiled, standing smoothly. “Yes, please deliver this missive to Rosto in Eastscar regarding the booth placement matter.”
He held out a scroll, sealed with wax.
Pronotum accepted it with a tilting of his horned head. “Does this mean you found resolution?”
“Indeed. The solution turned out to be golden basilisks,” Jogid chuckled. “Also, we’re selling vouchers to Eastscar for Finn’s stand. The funds will help support the festival.”
“A clever strategy, Master Jogid. The Great Project shall be a splendid event.”
“The message inside details our new arrangement. Ensure it reaches Rosto promptly,” Jogid said.
“Understood, Master Jogid. Will there be anything else?”
“One more thing,” Jogid clasped Pronotum’s shoulder. “Well done to all. And if you see Albus, extend my thanks to him. His assistance was invaluable.”
Pronotum vowed. “Of course, Master Jogid.” With a snap of wings, the courier took off into the bright morning.
Jogid watched him diminish into the distance, pride and anticipation for the festival swelling in his breast. All was in order.
