An Old Man's Quest: Part 1

[Marcus Biscay]

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Disregard the 'alert' rather than 'Alert'. For some reason, it wouldn't correct.

Santander was a wonderful place. All of Spain had treated Marcus well. During his time there, the South, and most of Portugal had not been civilized, and was mostly feral. The North, however, was wonderfully cultured. The people of Barcelona would all gather at a central location in the main city every week or so, and throw a massive party. One time, Marcus had been sent to oversee one of the celebrations. He had been sent as a sort of militia leader. The growing packs from the Southern lands of Tarragona had been extending their borders, and at the time, they were threatening the Northern Spanish packs. The night Marcus arrived, a Tarragonese messenger arrived with a scroll. It was a warning against any who would resist the army which was marching towards Barcelona. The man who received the message brought it straight to The Musketeer, who's eyes widened at the sight of such a declaration of war. Marcus' head jolted upwards from the scroll, and he said to the man before him, "Tell Diego to send the first three divisions to the city walls. And sound the garrison bell. I want all unarmed citizens inside the palace as quickly as possible. Alert Gabriel and his men. It's time for us to send a message to the King." Marcus ran to the city wall, and climbed the nearest tower. He took out his spyglass, and regarded the horizon. Hundreds of armed wolves were advancing towards the city. Another day had begun.

As Marcus thought on his past ventures, he listened vaguely to Ehno's words. It was too easy to get lost in his mind. "El Español es un lenguaje maravilloso. I picked some up in my travels as well. I met a man in Genoa once who could speak languages that I myself could never find a use for. He called himself a linguist." The man in question was none other than Pavische Callerno. The linguist part was true. Marcus had learnt almost every language he knew from Pavische. German, Italian, French, Russian, and Mandarin. English he was born with, and Spanish he picked up in Madrid during his stay in 2003. What was incorrect about Pavische was Marcus' apparent unfamiliarity. The Linguist was often contracted by The Congregatio to train recruits in language and dialect. Marcus had worked in the field with him several times, but had lost contact sometime after 2007. Still, a lasting impact had been left.

Marcus looked into Ehno's eyes. A feeling of inquiry fell over him like a veil. "So far, you speak three languages. I talk of linguists, but apparently I have one before me. Does everyone here speak in so many tongues?" Marcus thought of Anu. She did not seem cultured, civilized, or even socialized. She seemed to be one of the land. Yet here, before the old traveller's eyes was an Italian man, speaking three languages, and exhibiting behaviour which brought Marcus back to the times of his youth. A friendly handshake, an interestingly well educated mind, an impeccable taste for linguistics, and an oddly fantastic style of grooming. What sort of place had Marcus stumbled upon? A chuckle came through his jowls as he uttered the last syllables of his question. It was almost placed as sarcasm. Almost, being the operative word.

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