The sky is filled with storms. The wind is blowing stronger by the minutes.
Hooded figures walk in the small village of Faranthas.
The rain gets the road muddy and the water passes through the heavy clothing.
Finding the inn of the "Old Smoker", the hooded figures get inside the bar, where the barman is serving malt beer to crippled figures who stare at the strangers.
-How can I help you, gentlemen...?-
-We are pilgrims. Our names are not important in front of the Gods of Light and Darkness. We wish to stay in your inn for tonight. We mean no disturb or harm.-
The barman looks at them from the hood down to feet, wearing humble sandals, as heremites do. Their clothing is soaked and wetting the wooden floor.
He does not trust those "pilgrims".....
-If you are what I think. I shall suggest you sleep into the wood. We do not like strangers and we do not want trouble.- he holds a butcher knife in his right hand.
The tallest one of the strangers makes one step closer to the barmen.
He lifts his hand (the barman holds tight his butcher knife), and takes his hood off and looks the barman into the eyes.
-Look at me, barman. What do you think I am?-
His eyes are bright stars torn away from a winter night, his skin the colour of dark bronze.
The barman looks at him and frowns for a few seconds.
The other strangers take their hoods off. All have bright eyes like stars, but humble clothes are the ones of pilgrims and no weapon is on them.
-All right. You may take the rooms for one night only....pilgrims. How are you going to pay?-
Leaving a bag of silver coins on the counter, the tall stranger grabs the key from the barman, who cannot avoid noticing the long bony fingers.
Few hours after entering their room, they silently crawl on the roof.
The clear stars are fading in the coming dusk.
The sky slowly is painted with the colours of the rainbow.
Blue turns to pale yellow, then to orange.
Those minutes seem as long as the eternity.
The sun seems not willing to give its warmth to the world. Its rays hardly come from the horizon.
The warmth is getting stronger.
As the sun approaches, they cover their eyes with their hands, terrified by the idea of being burned.
That eternal second, they sit covering themselves for a few seconds, before they realise that they have not turned to ashes.
The sun is warming their skin, deep into their bones.
As the sun was shielding them with powerful and invisible armour.
A fragile tear stains their cheeks. A red tear.
An infinitive hint of humanity, a fragile hope lingering deep into their lifeless bodies.
A small desire of being human. Feeling the warmth of the sun every second of their lives, living in the light, and feeling accepted, not being casted away any more.
Holding someone in their hands, feeling the warmth of the skin, being able to feel alive with someone.
But Mefistofel holds tight to his duty. His Master was murdered because of a desire of Power.
His creator had given him an order. He had to obey.
-Would you not like it, Mefistofel? Would you not like being like this forever? Not being different anymore? Not living away from the light anymore?-
-I would like it. But I do also remember why we're here. We shall keep these moments precious to us, because we shall have no others. Still we remember what they have done to our Master. They hate us. They always will. They envy us because we know the Truth. They destroy what they envy.-
They stay on the roof for a couple of hours. Looking at the marvellous colours of the sun changing the sky.
At midday, a rider arrives in a great hurry in front of the inn.
Unrolling a piece of parchment, he reads as high as his voice could go.
-Listen all! The king Claudius left this world last night. His heart has met Piece. On the throne is our new king Articus. Our new king wishes to free our land from those who stain our land. Those who are dark creatures: creatures living in the night, which infest and destroy our land. Our king is ordering to join his cause of beauty and freedom. All the men able to brandish a sword shall join the royal army. Let everybody see how the truth and the pride of man are stronger than these vile creatures. They hide in the night, plotting against us! They plan to kill us and make us all their servants! Join King Articus' army and you shall be free.-
