EVERYBODY KNOWS

1 | Everybody Knows That the Dice Are Loaded, Rolls With Their Fingers Crossed

❝Everybody knows that the dice are loaded, but everybody still rolls with their fingers crossed. Because even if everything seems set in stone, there is always a small chance of seeing the double six that surpasses the eleven appear, even if it remains as tiny as it was eight hundred years ago.

Ah, I can already see from here the circumspect and bewildered and oh so annoyed looks of those who understood the extent of what I was saying in the previous sentence. There may be some among you, dear readers, who feel excitement and eagerness rising at the idea that someone as ordinary as me could hold such sensitive and crucial information about the very well-unknown and/or ignored "void century", but let me disappoint you right away : the shocking revelations won't be for now (the World Government can momentarily breathe).

I want to lay some foundations first. Although there is much to say about what happened countless moons ago, the fact remains that the past is only history and history is something that we discover and learn by searching. I don't intend to reveal to you in such a shameless and presumptuous manner what I know, much less harping on your ears with what "you all should know".

No.

What I intend to do, through what I claim to be an essay, is to make you realize what you already know.❞

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''Huh? 3550 berrys for a pot of ink? Have you lost your mind, old man?''

''Ha! If you're not happy, go somewhere else! It's the low season and the nuts I use to prepare it are already scarce. I have to replenish the funds while waiting to be able to make more!''

Sighing slightly in spite as he listened to the shop owner's annoyed and gruff explanation, Alex only shook his head in resignation while grabbing five colored glass vials. Although he wasn't satisfied with the price of the ink, currently increased by no less than a thousand berrys, the young man couldn't do more than complain weakly about it. After all, Algernon - or Algie for friends - was the only craftsman making this type of goods on the entire Blejsko Island, and he knew full well, this old fox, that his most loyal customer would not deign to go and make his almost weekly shopping at another merchant.

Algie's craft store mainly specialized in the art of painting and calligraphy. The first time Alex had set a foot there, a year and a half ago, he'd been immediately struck by the authenticity of the place, and his meeting with the elder who owned the place had only reinforced his instant crush - even if their first discussion had too quickly evolved into an argument over the best type of resine to use to facilitate the impregnation of the ink on the paper without it spreading into very inelegant stain. The merchant had just reached seventy years old, but he couldn't bring himself to retire and he kept telling his young client that harvesting the necessary ingredients for the concoction of his oils, paintings and inks allowed him to stay healthy, a pretext which had pushed Alex to accompany him to recover those who were more difficult to access.

This was how a friendly relationship was established between the two artists. The younger man had directly known that he wouldn't have wanted to go and get what he needed elsewhere and, after several conversations - and arguments -, visits and services, Algie seemed to have accepted him as a semi-apprentice and treated him as such by allowing him to assist in the preparation of his products or simply offering him something in exchange for his work. Sometimes, the youngest would simply come to the shop to keep the old craftsman company, and he would make him read small drafts of short stories that he had written, wanting to get his elder's opinion on certain passages.