Arthur

Stoic expression on his face, Arthur knocked on the first target, an unassuming wooden door. While calm on the outside, his mind currently experienced great turmoil.

Mention I’m one of the Crescent Moon Helpers as soon as possible. Don’t show teeth when smiling. Take a step back when the door opens.

Arthur wasn’t nervous around strangers, but he had learned there were some things he needed to pay attention to that his companions could disregard. His big built and stony face on their own wouldn’t be much of a problem. Combined with his ill-fitting, horribly ragged clothes however it evoked a particularly unpleasant image. There was no way around it, he looked like a hoodlum. A fairly unsuccessful one to boot.

Usually being around the childish Thomas and friendly looking Roland helped suppress the association. But when on his own he had to jump through a few hoops, or risk receiving colorful responses from people. Alas, even with a performance good enough to make any circus acrobat envious, there were times where things did not work out.

“Did you forget something, mommy?” A tiny voice asked as a small girl, around six years old, opened the door. Only to instantly freeze when she saw the smiling Arthur.

Having expected an adult to open the door, the latter’s brain momentarily stalled, unsure whether he should actually tell her to sleep, drink and eat enough. Somehow, he felt her parents would be better suited for that.

Looking at the basket of apples in his left hand he considered handing her one. His common sense luckily persuaded him off that disastrous idea.

“Are your parents home?” Arthur ultimately asked, regret setting in the moment he finished. Dodging one trap, he failed to realize this entire situation had no favorable outcome for him. The moment the girl opened the door he should have excused himself, tactical retreat being the best option.

“Ahhhh!” The little girl screamed in terror, banging her apartment’s door shut with surprising force.

“Yeah, sounds about right,” Arthur complained under his breath, wishing some particularly unpleasant bowel movements upon his leader.

I know I should be happy his serious phase ended quickly, but couldn’t he have at least stuck around for today’s mission? A more direct approach wouldn’t have hurt.

Mentally preparing himself for further dishonor, Arthur knocked on the next door. No matter how much he personally hated this, Roland judged it necessary to have them put on a little act, so he would do it. Annoyed and dutiful at the same time.

Maybe I should scoop down a bit?

Scarred by the girl’s reaction he lowered his posture slightly, hoping to appear less threatening. This position gave him a great view of the bulging belly that appeared in front of him. Apparently unhappy about being just tall, this apartment’s inhabitant had opted for being gigantic instead.

If Arthur could be considered big for boys his age, then the person in front of him was enormous by human standards, or about average for a fully grown bear. Inquisitive look on his face, the man in what was a rare occurrence towered above Arthur, waiting for the latter to speak.

“Good day sir, I’m Arthur from the Crescent Moon Helpers,” Arthur introduced himself, assuming his normal posture without batting an eye, now barely reaching up to the other man’s chest. “We are going around today, reminding everyone to life healthy. Here is an orange for you.” Randomly taking one of the fruits Arthur passed it to the giant in front of him.

Said giant glanced towards the little girl’s apartment, a look of understanding dawning on his face. Familiarly putting one hand on Arthur’s shoulder, he nodded sadly.

“I’m sorry, boy. It doesn’t really get better,” leaving these ominous words behind the man went back into his home, leaving a dumbstruck Arthur behind.

I don’t need your understanding!

Thomas once again

Thomas sported a grave expression as he looked upon his quickly emptying basket. Half of his fruits were gone, and he had only finished one floor. Determination steeled his beady eyes as he resolved himself to stop any further demonstrations, no matter how clueless the people here were. He forced himself to believe that they would figure out how to eat a banana on their own, however slim the chances.

Knocking on the first door, a nicely dressed woman answered. She looked about thirty, and judging by an impeccably cleaned floor and the literally shining furniture behind her was someone who did not let her circumstances be an excuse for a sloppy household.

“This is for you,” Thomas declared, expression pained, he handed her a banana. The pudgy boy fully intended to turn away from the faithful friend he had shared the last half an hour or so with, hoping against his better judgment that said friend managed to be eaten happily. The familiar weight however remained in his hand, the woman in front of him not taking his tragically offered companion.

“What is this, me boy?” she sternly inquired, looking like the mother she most definitely was. Confirmed by the three children, none older than five, that appeared behind her to watch the curious boy in the hallway. “You ought to introduce yourself first, should you not?”

“Why?” Thomas asked, confusion written all over his face.

“Because it is good manners,” the woman lectured him. “If you knock on someone’s door, a quick introduction and stating your purpose is the least you need to do. Starting with a nice ‘good day Ma’am’ should also be common courtesy.” Shaking her head disapprovingly, she wondered how often this child must have fallen on his head to end up like this.

“Of course!” Thomas exclaimed, enlightened by her persuasive words. He briefly considered running back to the previous apartments to make up for his mistakes, ultimately deciding against it. He could, after all, always visit them on his way back down later.

“Good day, Ma’am,” Thomas greeted her, much too late but better than never. “I’m Thomas Crescent from the Crescent Moon Orphanage. If I am lost, please return me there, to the cathedral or mister Roland Crescent. Whichever is currently closer.”

Despite adding a lot of unnecessary information to his introduction, Thomas did not get scolded. Which had less to do with the mother finding it appropriate enough, and more with the absolute manic excitement her kids displayed.

Like a bunch of overly stimulated dogs seeing their owner for the first time in a week, they rushed past their mother and surrounded Thomas. Jumping up and down while pulling at his clothes, they asked a dozen question in single breath, three voices overlapping to create an indecipherable gibberish.

“So you are with the Helpers,” the woman mused. “I thought your appearance reminded me of some things I heard before.”

Whether her statement meant to be flattering remained up for debate. It was however most definitely not. Luckily deeds spoke louder than words. A sentiment the woman definitely agreed on, as her stern expression suddenly held quite a lot of admiration.

“Enough,” the mother barked, making her children freeze up. “Brother Thomas has introduced himself, so how about you do not disgrace your poor mother here and show some manners.”

Any previous rowdiness gone, the three kids, two boys and one girl, aligned themselves neatly in a row in front of Thomas, looking quite prim and proper all of a sudden.

“Hello Thomas, I’m Nathan.”

“Hello Thomas, I’m Bennet.”

“Hello Thomas, I’m Maya.”

Looking back towards their mother they saw her nod approvingly before gesturing at Nathan, the biggest and probably eldest of the three.

“Is it true you ate THAT fish?” Nathan asked, voice trembling at the sheer weight of his words. The anticipation in his siblings' eyes reached dangerous levels, threatening to rend apart the very fabric of creation.

“Of course,” Thomas affirmed confidently, remembering the quite frankly subpar tasting fish everyone made such a fuss about. He personally felt there were many other heroics under his belt, most a lot more interesting than some dirty fish. But for some reason most of his fans wanted to know about that one, and who was he to deny them their curiosity. “It’s bad to waste food after all.”

“Listen to big brother Thomas here,” their mother remarked approvingly. “If you waste food you will amount to nothing in your life.” Harsh words, but no one here felt inclined to argue against them.

“Tell us the story, please.” Bennet begged Thomas, eyes shining brightly.

“Yes, yes,” Maya agreed. “Fish story please.”

Not about to say no to such ardent supporters, and also quite enjoying the attention, Thomas sat down his basket at the side. He needed both hands for what was coming now.

“It happened at the big square in front of the cathedral, many months ago,” Thomas started his story, unsure about the exact date, as it had been like any other day for him. “The City Lord and that old fish guy were arguing real loudly while all the other people stood there staring at them wide eyed.”

He neatly summarizing what had been a good thousand people, including countless nobles and soldiers, standing frozen in pure shock. Thomas’ priorities however lay elsewhere, both in real life as well as in storytelling.

“And lying there all alone in the dirt was the poor fish,” Thomas continued, sadness at the monumental injustice seeping through his voice. “It wasn’t his fault at all, he shouldn’t be punished to an eternity of not being eaten just because the old fish guy decided to throw him into the City Lord’s face.”

Hearing the righteousness indignation in Thomas’ voice would almost make one think the statements coming out of his mouth made any sense whatsoever. As did the spellbound looks his little audience gave him.

“So I did the only logical thing and walked over there to pick him up,” Thomas stated matter-of-factly. “A quick little rinse and he’d be good as new.”

“Then out of nowhere, with no indication whatsoever, all those people standing there suddenly started shouting like maniacs! Pointing their fingers at me, they waved their arms around everywhere. For a moment I really thought everyone had turned insane. How the hell was I supposed to known so many of them wanted the fish?!...”

Stephan

“Thanks for lending me some of your time,” Stephan thanked an older lady for allowing him to gift her a free fruit. “Have a great rest of your day.”

“No, thank you. You little charmer,” the lady happily saw him off, coquettishly winking her hand. A gesture that made his stomach churn in revulsion. “Bye bye.”

After spending some time to clean up his haggard appearance, a much nicer looking Stephan had started his work with enough enthusiasm to rival the average prison laborer. Which did not meant he was doing a bad job. Stephan, lacking physical prowess, had for many years sharpened his other skills instead.

Convincing these people here that for them getting a visit, and complementary pear, from a member of the illustrious Crescent Moon Helpers was the best thing that has ever happened to them proved quite simple.

Those who heard of them before were quickly spun around his finger, curiosity about many of the often absurd rumors concerning the Helpers being an easy thing to exploit. And those which had not been privy to their glory quickly got enlightened about how the City Lord supported this organization that operated under the holy Lunar Church itself. To think the truth could sound so impressive.

Considering how well he was selling it, there appeared to be a distinct possibility of one of his pears ending up as a family heirloom. For the few weeks before it started smelling too bad.

Scaling the stairs towards more future supporters, Stephan’s mind was not focused on the task at hand whatsoever. Instead, their leader’s strange behavior became his top priority.

This doesn’t make any sense.

While he tried to be subtle about it, to the point of even doing these kinds of useless tasks while only offering a minimal amount of more efficient suggestions, Stephan was absolutely aware that Roland had quite a few shocking secrets. A knowledge he knew Arthur shared, as should Thomas, but best to never make assumptions about that creature.

Roland being special was the reason Stephan ran around everywhere in the first place, helping their glorious leader in often questionable endeavors. His mindset could be considered about as far away from charitable and selfless as possible, as Stephan would never consider helping people without receiving something in return.

And despite not knowing what kind of freaky otherworldly forces sometimes took hold of his leader, he still had a good idea about how things usually went down. Which is where his current concerns came about.

The Toktuam’s brat made him have a little meltdown. This is confirmed, as I saw the puppet-like way he acted when I brought the healing salves. Nothing went down yesterday, which is why Roland relaxed on his own while the other two and our new fifth ran around town arguing. So far everything lines up, the problem is what happened today.

Coming to a stop at the next floor, Stephan crouched down beside a wall instead of knocking at the next door. He had gathered his thoughts during the previous floor’s mindless conversation. It was about time to get to the bottom of things.

Taking out a shiny golden coin, one side showing the sun, whereas the other sported a full moon, Stephan made it spin on the ground. The coin was a treasure he had picked up many years ago before joining Roland’s group. An old coin from a long broken empire, not used as an actual currency anymore but sought by mages everywhere for the runes embedded in it. He had been ecstatic when he managed to ‘borrow’ it from the stall of a traveling merchant without getting caught.

A risk that could have cost him one of his hands in the worst-case scenario, as punishments were lot harsher in the times before the City Lord took office. There had been no time Stephan ever laugh as hard as when he found out the coin was a fake.

Seeing a real one in the possession of a drunk adventurer, boasting loudly inside a bar Stephan happened to be frequenting for other business, made him realize his mistake.

A real Firmament coin slowly turned fully silver when the moon and stars took hold of the sky, only to once again become gold at sunrise. His one on the other hand remained golden the whole time, being nothing but a nice looking forgery. Which made sense, seeing that merchant from which he took it had not been nearly wealthy enough to sell something of that value anyway.

Instead of being angry at his foolishness, Stephan had taken this as an important lesson. Not to be more careful, or that things aren’t always as they appear. Instead, the lesson he engraved deep down in his heart was that nothing of value could be obtained easily.

Eyes fixated on the spinning coin, he mentally imagined it turning silver. Like a torrent his thoughts burst past any barrier, taking in everything, trying to see past the noise, and searching for the best path to take.

The first incident after a breakdown will always bring out Roland’s serious side. Cold hard efficiency. Plans devoid of any subtleties, but somehow genius enough to make me question my own intelligence. A week or so of being slaved down to our bones, and then he returns to normal.

This is obviously an incident, and the way Arthur acted confirms serious Roland had made an appearance. But much less lasting a whole week, he didn’t even stay for an hour. And instead of getting matters settled quickly, we are running around with fruit baskets in hand.

Face scrunched up, Stephan somehow looked to be deep in thought and deeply annoyed at the same.

Thomas told me he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, though his reliability is volatile at best. Something happened that made Boss’s serious side retreat early. And the only other time something similar happened was…

“The Midsummer Festival,” Stephan mumbled quietly to himself, the coin having come to a stop. He took a deep breath and spun it again.

At that time, he seemed incredible stern in the morning, only to implement that absolutely insane joke called ‘fire safety day’ later on. I didn’t think much about it back then because he did not have any breakdown beforehand. But what if we missed his breakdown and only saw the serious Roland? Whose time was then promptly cut short.

A tremor ran through Stephan as his breathing quickened. If his theory proved right, it would explain a lot of things that had happened during the festival eleven months ago.

It is a dangerous time. Less so in these last few decades, but speaking from a historical standpoint. Many disasters have happened during a solstice.

It’s however still one month until the festival starts. Too much of a difference to make a connection?

If I assume the solstice has something to do with it, the fact that his serious side is the one which gets stopped feels wrong. I have nothing against good old normal Roland, making jokes and weird plans that end up working most of the time. Even more so, he is easily my favorite. During times of disaster however his no subtleties, more serious side would be a much better fit. There has to be a reason why it’s absent now.

The coin stopped.

Which is not something I should consider finding out.

Sighing sadly to himself Stephan’s eyes lost a fair bit of their inquisitive luster. He picked up the coin, this time not to spin it again. Even though his brief contemplation session had given him some theories, furthermore shedding light on past inconsistencies, he still felt stifled.

For this was as far as he could get using the information available to him. If he wanted to dive further into these secrets he would have to search for more clues, ask around, and all in all be dangerously conspicuous.

Curious people end up in unassuming graves.

Cursing his own prying nature, for who did not want to know the answer to a secret right in front of them, Stephan knocked on the next door.

Working under Roland truly came with its fair share of headaches, though he would never consider switching allegiances.

I have been giving sharp wits and nothing else in this life of mine. Of course I’ll stick with a possible winning hand, and if it ends up being a dud that’ll simply be the life of me.

Stephan had frequented enough gambling dens to have seen a staggering amount of people waste their lifeblood, going from one trashy payout to the next. Winning here and losing there, slowly bankrupting themselves more and more every day, somehow not understanding that simple odds dictated they would have less the longer they played. And he had no interest in living like that.

Betting everything on one single gamble, rising like a phoenix or getting trampled in the dirt. That was his way.

Third time’s a Thomas

Thomas once again found himself at his previous spot, sitting on the street opposite the apartment buildings. He was quite satisfied, having completed his part of their work.

Which left only one thing to do. Eat the remaining bananas, preferably before Roland arrived. Obviously, Thomas remained incredibly flexible with his excuses, so even his friend’s untimely arrival wouldn’t be overly tragic. He had confidence in being able to think of something good on the spot.

Giving out the fruits had been a lot of fun for Thomas. He got to talk with many different people, which was always interesting. Especially when they knew him and he could his cool tell stories. The only thing that saddened him was that many of the people on the lower floor seemed to have gone out in the time he finished the upper ones.

I thought today would be a pain, but things really turned around. Good thing Roland turned back to normal after praying. Mighty convenient.

Unlike a startling number of people assumed, Thomas was not in fact stupid. There simply were a lot things going on inside his brain. He always observed everything that went on, even when it seemed like he was staring blankly into space, or stuffing his cheeks without a care in the world.

Things people said and did, they way stuff looked, smelled and tasted. Especially the latter. Random changes like a new scratch on a door, slightly shifted furniture and the way Roland’s eyes looked when he became serious.

Absolutely everything Thomas experienced ended up stuffed into that strange little brain of his. The problem was that he had a hard time finding the things he needed inside the mess, which made him appear slow at times.

In exchange the moments when Thomas managed to find everything he needed were glorious. A perfect storm where he conquered all using his comedic chops and witty remarks.

In the grand scheme of things Thomas felt it to be a worthwhile trade. For the price of being extremely bad at picking up innuendos or sarcasm, he received the invaluable ability to verbally defeat everyone in the world, if he performed at his best.

On the other hand, if you would ask other people about their opinion there might be some vocal ones about him being too focused on the wrong things and generally unreliable.

Preposterous, Thomas would say without a doubt. If you can’t make something interesting, what’s the point of talking about it?

So, despite his best friend’s return to normalcy this morning being quite startling, Thomas ultimately saw no good way to make use of it for now. Which is why the information remained where it was, deep inside his weird head. Most likely waiting for the day when he could crack a funny joke with it.