Once upon a time...

[timefather]

[ For the residents of Märchenstraße, and all the land surrounding it, the eighth of December was a day to look forward to. Looking at it from an outside perspective, strangers and travelers could easily assume it to be a holiday. At the very least, a day for a festival, if a modest one. A day that shopkeeps spent all morning preparing for, that all manner of creatures spent days traveling to the city to witness. They'd heard the talk that passed around, the rumors from those still left. But would it work? No one knew for sure, no matter how confident the stories seemed to be. But hope was very quickly becoming all they had left.

They had decorated the whole town. Streamers, banners, wreathes and garland made of autumn flowers, plus whatever the Fairy Godmother had cooked up. Oh, she was just giddy. No skepticism could be spoken around her, not if you wanted to escape the wrath of her wand! Rumor had it that she had caught wind of a few piglets squealing about the likelihood that their magic would fail, and that they were subsequently transformed into the band of musicians who could be found performing in the park.

Well, at least the music was festive.

Of course, the decorations weren't for the newcomers alone. Autumn was coming to a close in just a few weeks, and Old Man Winter would take the reigns like he did every year, and their weather would turn cold and harsh. The chill was already there, cool and biting when the wind picked up speed. Lady Autumn was much preferred to the citizens of the city with her gentle nature, even if she failed to show up, finishing her work in the orchards instead. That was what they liked about her.

It was mid-morning when Father Time was found outside of his tower, checking one of the numerous pocket watches he kept on his person. "Unnecessary, but comfortable," he called them, and closed the watch again. It was twelve o'clock in the afternoon, and where empty space had been just seconds before, now they were. Sitting on benches, lying in flower patches, scattered about the city and outside of the gates in peaceful slumber. They would awaken to the bells of the clock tower. Some, to many friendly and relieved faces all around them, some to grateful ones carrying gifts of food and clothing and magic, and some to fearful, cautious faces. Regardless of how the town treated them, they would awaken to a celebration of their arrival, and choices to be made, and the books. Each and every one. ]

Comments

[unaccepted]

[ The only right answer is to seek answers. He is apparently in a strange land, and to be offered answers is far better than searching them out on his own. So he replies: ]

I must find my bearings first, and no doubt they lie at the tavern and in a room more comfortable than grass. But then, does this tavern accept francs? Or do they go by generosity?

[seventhsimon]

I've know few enough taverns that work on generosity. [ That's a strange question, and it leads Simon to a smile before he realizes he has no idea what sort of currency a franc is. That is something to ponder. ]

Gold and silver pieces, are the moneys I know, but neither do I spend enough time in the tavern to be certain. [ A pauses, as Simon gathers his things and begins walking towards the town ] You can certainly try, and if not they will find some other trade to make it worth their while.

They would probably prefer to trade, in any case.

[unaccepted]

[ Grantaire belatedly goes along with him, hurrying to catch up. His eyes dart around their surroundings and his frown only deepens. ]

Trade, is it. I've only--[ He only now looks down at his belongings. Dominoes that he stuffed into his pocket, the strange book in one hand, and a bottle of wine in the other. ] Would they take this book, then? I've no time to read at the moment, much less of Pylades.

[seventhsimon]

[ Simon stops to let the other catch up, brows furrowing when the stranger offers up the book. ]

That book is yours and yours alone, lad. Even if they'd accept it, I am quite certain you'd have need of it later. [ He pauses, and squints at the book's binding. ] It's a terrible name to be stuck with, though, I must admit.

[ Simon moves to pick up his pace again, it's already a little later in the day than he'd like. ] I'd reckon it's empty at the moment, so there isn't much reading you need to worry about for now.

[unaccepted]

It's hardly terrible, and hardly marvelous--and what am I stuck with exactly? [ Grantaire has finally caught up, and takes the time to look through the empty pages of the book. ]

What is the good of this? Am I meant to write in here?

[seventhsimon]

Your name. Or, the name on the book's spine. It is your name, now. At least according to most who live in this land.

[ He nods towards the book and pulls out one of his own. ]

You write within it, and the words show up in all other books. It is... more convenient than sending multiple letters to others, and good for spreading information swiftly.