“An Orbographer is anyone who dabbles - either heavily, or lightly - in the particular magical field known as orbography. Orbography itself is the art of magically capturing a three dimensional engraving of reflected light within a specially prepared solid crystal orb; once the image within the orb has been magically set, it becomes a perfect record of that moment in time known as orbograph. The image within the orbograph will remain permanent so long as nothing happens to cause cracks of fissures to form within the orb that the image has been magically set within. Generally speaking, although the spells necessary to capture the reflected light itself are not particularly difficult to master, the cost of properly made orbs - suitable for orbography - makes it such that orbographs are often considered luxury items.”

- Excerpt from the Encyclopedia Corsinthia

Chapter 15: “A Most Unique Way”

Quietly, from within the confines of the stranger’s abode, the trio listened with baited breath as the mob outside passed by their current place of hiding without stopping to search this particular building. A shared sighed was heaved equally among the group as they came to the shared realization that, yes, they were indeed going to have succeeded in this gambit to foil those chasing down Latte due to the color of her hair. It was, actually, most fortuitous for them that they didn’t have to start any bloody fighting to avoid the wild mob; after all, being on trial for such a thing would be a great complication in the matter of their search for Miran Via’s student.

Jysalef - finally feeling a bit more at ease - turned back from the door to look towards the man that had curiously given them respite from their angry mob troubles, despite the color of Latte’s hair being pink. “Sir, I thank you for allowing us to avoid the watchful eyes of that enraged lot out there. It was a very courageous, and bold, move on your part; especially since, had they decided to search this place, they most assuredly would have chosen to drag you out into the streets alongside us. However, I do not want to seem ungrateful at the moment, but I must now ask another favor of you; for – you see - we can not just simply leave Kyosem until our business here is finished.”

The clean shaven man, whom was - oddly enough - not troubled at all by the color of Latte’s hair, smiled brightly as he declared, “You are free to ask, and – should it prove possible – I will pledge my help in every way that I can.”

Jysalef, as he began his request, nodded towards the man that had taken them in, “Well then, the matter is as follows; we have come to this town from Elpsiod, at the behest of the sage Miran Via, with instructions to speak with a student of his named Tallus Osmaard. Considering the ill fervor we have just riled up, it would please me greatly to leave here as fast as we possibly could; however, until we have spoken with this man, that will most sadly not be an option available to us. Thusly, it would be most helpful to us if you were able to lead us to said man without drawing any attention from those desiring a fight with my companions.”

As Jysalef spoke of the favor he needed, that he and his companions might manage to reach Tallus Osmaard without it becoming necessary to engage in bloodshed, the clean shaven man began to chuckle quite audibly. “So, you say that Master Via sent you here to Kyosem to speak with Tallus Osmaard; and then - of all things – fate should just so happen to lead you precisely to this location? I must say, his divineness truly does indeed – at times - have a most unique way of going about things. Of course I can show you to the dwelling of Tallus Osmaard without it posing a problem to my safety; for, you see, you are already presently standing within my very house right this very moment!”

The travelling three stood there, with jaws agape, as they listened to Tallus Osmaard reveal who he was; it never occurred to them previously, as they were actively fleeing from the would be lynch-mob, that they might just - by pure chance - simply stumble upon the very man they sought to have a word with.

“So, if Miran Via sent you over here to speak with me, then you must be the esteemed vagrant swordsmen that the vision spoke of: Jysalef Soresh.” declared Tallus as he began musing out loudly.

Latte was the first of the group to reacquire the composure necessary to speak, holding up her master’s signet ring as she did so, “Yes, Sir, this is indeed Jysalef Soresh; Master Via asked me to accompany him here, so as to confirm his identity.”

Tallus shrugged quizzically as he was shown the ring that was most familiar to his eyes, “I really doubt this much formality was terribly necessary, I do not think that my former teacher would be sending anyone else my way at the moment.” Tallus then paused, lost in thought for a moment, before he suddenly gushed out an embarrassed statement, “Ah, but this is so rude of me; here I’ve been prattling on, and I haven’t even yet asked anyone else’s names.”

Latte, first putting back the signet ring that - in the end - did not seem to be all that necessary, blinked confusedly as she responded to the man now inquiring to know the names that everyone else in the group went by, “I’m called Latte, sir.”

Upon hearing the pink haired girl state the nomenclature by with which she was referred to, the eyes of Miran Via’s former student energetically shot wide open with joyful surprise, “Oh, Latte, I didn’t recognize you at first because it’s been so very long since last I saw you; but, considering it was all the way back in Dulsnik when he first found you, I’m guessing that at this point you don’t remember me at all either. I must say, over the years you’ve definitely grown up into quite the fine young lady.”

Latte, too greatly embarrassed to respond to the compliment that Tallus has just put forth upon her, blushed deeply as she sheepishly cast her eyes downwards towards the floor.

Tallus then began to shift his focus towards Terus, so that he might learn this youth’s name as well; but – before he could fully do so – he was suddenly hit up with a barrage of words from Jysalef Soresh, whom had just now regained his composure from the shock of how utterly unlikely the nature of this meeting had been. “Oh, so you’re the one whom supposedly had this great oracular vision, and whom then went on to deduce that clearly the warrior it spoke of must be none other than myself. However, I find it most unlikely that you received any such divine messages at all; for clearly no self respecting Corsinthian man – whom was trained as a sage – would fail to adhere to the regally ordained mandate on the necessity of lengthy facial growth as you have! That, coupled with the fact you did not seem to care at all about the signet ring that Miran Via had sent with us, leads me to conclude that you are therefore not actually-”

Terus, with one hand, began violently pulling at his instructor’s sleeve; at the same time - with his other hand - the youth motioned with great urgency towards to a crystal orb situated prominently upon a nearby table. “Master Soresh, sir, ere you continue your line of thought; please first, if you would, take a look over there!”

“What?!” screamed out Jysalef - with great perturbance - as he shifted his focus away from the imposter he was presently berating, and over to where his ward was currently gesturing most energetically. What he saw, in the place that Terus so desperately pointed at, was an orbograph – of truly exquisite craftsmanship – containing a preserved image of Miran Via and Tallus Osmaard standing together upon the stair steps that lead into the grand cathedral in Dulsnik. Upon seeing this orbograph, which clearly revealed the man he had just yelled at was indeed an associate of the famous Corsinthian Sage, Jysalef began to nervously breathe in and out as if he were about to hyperventilate himself into going unconscious that very moment.

“I am most sorry,” Tallus - in response to Jysalef’s newfound state of panic - apologetically began, “that my lack of a regally mandated beard confused you so greatly as to the authenticity of who I am; but, I assure you that I have a most worthy reason for my present lack of facial growth. Please, if you would be so kind as to permit me, I would like to explain everything to you over dinner this night.”

Jysalef Soresh - still presently gasping for air - could do little more than nod his agreeance to the offer that had just been given to him by Tallus Osmaard, the man whom was most definitely an authentic student of the sage Miran Via.