The Last Philosopher

The oldest profession

The outline of the mural, in shades of grey, was still visible two weeks later, even with being painted over more than once. It'd ended Herschel's stint as town beautifier. Charlene wouldn't have said it out loud, and she wasn't sure it should, but the image of her on the bunkhouse made her feel wanted.

But Earl minded it, a lot. So, while Herschel tried to cover it up. Fannie and Charlie'd spent some time thinking on a new punishment. But they had trouble finding something for someone whose only gift was the gab.

They even went to Bres for ides, but after Herschel's trial, his general indifference to the law had a newfound apathy. When they saw him in his office, his normally smooth comb-over was frazzled. Charlie would've felt sorry for him. He had taken a lot of heat over the judgening, but it was just so well deserved.

hile they looked for something he could do, Herschel wandered around Stagna. Talking at people who Charlie felt sure weren't happy with being forced to listen. And when he wasn't doing that, he was painting over the mural. Because every time the whitewash dried, the faint outline of her shape was still there. It was like the dried, cracking wall had absorbed her essence.

Once she noticed Herschel's constant conversation instigations, Charlie expected a lot of moaning and complaining. Folk hereabouts weren't used to someone going around talking at them all willy-nilly. Even so, Earl hadn't had a single complaint. At first, she thought they couldn't be bothered. Herschel was living in the jail after all, and maybe they thought Earl wouldn't take it serious.

After a few days of mulling it over, Fannie had the idea to try Huom's oldest profession. They'd make Herschel into an assistant, specifically a teacher's assistant. But it'd only lasted a week, and Herschel barely had time to make dent in the children's ignorance.

The unheated shack, called the hedging school, never had enough help. Wierd since it only tutored those who paid every week like clockwork. And everyone kept up the payments, no one wanted the shame of being too poor to send their kids to school.

Domnall was old when Charlie went to school, but now he was an antique. The children were often left waiting in the two-seat pulpits. Because he had trouble making it to the schoolhouse. On a little hill, a stones-throw away from town.
The flaybottomist — as the children had always called him — was Stagna's only teacher. He walked with a cane, and rarely missed an opportunity to swipe at any child that dared come within range.

At first, Charlie wondered if Fannie only suggested this for the gas. Domnall's outdated teaching was so often wrong, and he hated being corrected. While Herschel had an annoying tendency to be right, and was more than happy to correct others with that incessant calm. From the look of it, the two men would make the kind of odd pairing that wasn't likely to match.

A week after Herschel's first day, Charlie came stomping into Bern's feeling like a mess. Because the assistant gig had ended yesterday, and she'd been up all night worrying.

Surprisingly, it hadn't ended due to conflict between the two teachers. Putting the two most opposite people in the same room had in fact worked just fine. Because Domnall hadn't cared a lick about the corrections Herschel whispered to the kids. What he cared about was having an assistant for the first time, and for free too.

According to folklore, the hedging school got its name from annoyed parents hiding in a hedge. Trying to teach their kids something other than Tubler's Catechises. But as some point, the preaching from the last light church had crept back into the curriculum. As Herschel had recently found out.

"Fine so, Domnall made sum threats on Herschel's life, ba that was just posturin', they would've smooth things out!"

Charlie was complaining to Fannie's sympathetic back. While she refilled wood in the temperamental kitchen stove. Two of it's six plates never seemed to get hot enough, but it was never the same two.

"Besides, the kids were 'appier than ever."

"Sure, they were 'appier. Herschel told 'em think for 'emsleves, even ifin that meant an extra smack or two. Ba what d'ya guess yar Da might 'ave thought 'bout having a bunch of little Herschel's runnin' around town in a few years?" Fannie smirked.

The real problem started with Muke's monthly lecture on Viliranz. The Agalian faith, and Zissmus its white-bearded and absurdly muscular god, that could never keep anything in his pants. This belief was based on the fact that humans were the first self-aware race on Huom. Which gave them the inbred right to act superior towards other races

At Muke's recital of the gospel, Herschel'd raised his hand to interject that Trolls were in fact the first race. During the stunned silence that followed, he went on to explain that there was also a multitude of other beliefs that all had their own gods. So how could they know for sure Zissmus was the right one? It hadn't ended there, Herschel also claimed that humans had in fact evolved from earlier races. That's when Muke saw red, and left the school in a huff.

"He said he only followed Muke ta try ta explain, as if tha' would've helped!"

"Men!" Fannie exclaimed with a general sort of empathy.

"Yea! Like Trolls is even real!"

Muke had gone straight to the courthouse. Intent on having Herschel put in the shame-stock, for misleading Agalian youth. As Herschel put it, he only offered to resign so the reverend would stop being upset. But Bres fired him for trying to quit his punishment. Which left Charlie, once again worrying about Herschel's unemployment.

"Ya know I don't think Herschel gets the idea of punishment. Who quits community service?"

"Well, wha'ever he did, it's better than bein' put in the square far people to chuck stuff at." Fannie joked about the shame-stock. "And it gives Muke less reason to spew his venom."

"True, but we'd better find him somethin' ta do, before people realise Da's just as annoyed with him as anyone else."

But Charlie'd been left talking to herself as Fannie'd backed out of the kitchen, arms loaded with breakfast plates.

Updated: 08.04.2024