Getting a haircut

The window of the room Midas found himself in was milky, letting the sunshine dimly through; a muted white tone hit against the rough cobblestone walls that made up the room. Slowly getting up, Midas's head began to ache slightly—his finger touching softly onto his forehead as he sterned his brows.

Unsure if he had used too much mana yesterday, he got up from the hay matress - aimlessly looking through the relatively small sleeping quarter that was offered to him. His eyes met the rusty sickle first; Midas didn't remember laying it onto the tiny wooden table that sat in one of the corners of the room.

Before leaving through the door—warm light shining through the slim dark metal bars that were built on top of the glass that was built inside of it—Midas turned to his bandaged right, met with pain at almost an instant; he moved his fingers, trying his best to join their tips together.

Only able to move his thumb and pinkie finger slightly, his index finger shortly moving up as well. Before the pain he felt around the stone slab became unbearable, Midas stopped—sighing to himself at the underwhelming outcome. His hand is still unusable for the near future.

Stepping out of the room, having freed himself from the leather that was nearly glued to his back, which now was almost completely healed. The youth's eyes soon laid on Avalon, who sat by himself at the long table—busy reading the contents of a spread-out paper, the tiny string that kept the roll closed laid next to his arm.

Midas was able to make faint connections with some of the symbols that lay in front of Avalon with the characters that were engraved into the wall that protected the camp in the Shama Rift—most likely names carried by people that had some tie to the water kingdom.

„I'm being called to the university… I guess that's quite the fitting time."

Avalon's words made the youth look up at him; the windows of the main hall were built up high, and the lanterns above them were still lit.

„Is the exam today…?"

Looking at the serious expression of the boy that stood next to him, Avalon shook his head.

„No, we have time until tomorrow. The reason we even met is described on this paper right here. It's a job I was willing to accept… North of here, up in the surrounding highlands, some speak of an ancient ruin that stretches far into the ground… like a pathway…"

Midas's eyes lit up as he listened to his description, somewhat matching with the old remains he saw in the desert. Dark, underground pathways—connecting chambers and hosting engraved art—nowadays they only served wildlife another place to retreat to.

„I was asked to find out why these ancient people have built something like this, since I'm not a historian… but someone that studies cultures… that's really the only reason why I'm going there."

„Was the water kingdom connected to the northern desert…? Was there a way of crossing the border from underground…?"

„We do know that the water kingdom was often present in northern desert territory—even in ancient times… Yet, not many believe humans were capable of forming these pathways at that time…"

„Who was it then…?"

Balancing his head on his hand, Avalon sighed shortly as he saw Midas's interesting gaze tunneling through him.

„That's the problem here..." Many of these ancient remains we find on the surface or underground are simply too detailed or complex to have been made by humans… Especially the stones that were used by them to construct these halls and paths suggest that these builders were much more advanced than our ancient ancestors…"

„Especially the people around the region of the water kingdom, who are believed to have been one of the most advanced folk at the time, only recently mastered bending metals… But, to be fair… I lack knowledge about the old world… or how its technology had looked like."

Standing up, Avalon looked at Midas for a short while, holding his neck as he raised one of his brows slightly.

„Do you always grow your hair out like this…?"

His question made Midas realize something he had always ignored until now: not being cut since he had arrived here—his hair slowly grew until it started to reach his shoulders height, covering his neck almost completely.

„To be honest, I never really realized how long it had become. It's probably best I cut it short… they usually hang all in my face anyway…"

Lifting up a bundle of strands with his fingers, Midas spoke as he looked down onto himself, trying to part his hair as best as he could to free his face. After hearing his words, Avalon turned to the tiny bag that hung around his shoulder, revealing a pair of scissors and a wooden comb.

„I cut my hair this morning after I woke up… I'm quite good at cutting hair; I could also cut yours…"

Nodding at the suggestion, Midas found himself sitting in the morning light that hit against the walls of the old burg, his eyes narrowed at the incoming sunrays. The light metal made quick work of the hair that hung to his sides; the youth sat as still as he could on the stool that was placed right next to the entrance.

„What kind of hairstyle do you want…?"

Looking down at the strains of long hair that rested on the dry, rocky ground of the compound, the youth remembered himself of the framed photo he saw back in his dream. Somehow, even though the cracked glass parted right through the middle of his face, Midas found a liking to the man he saw in the picture—his face somehow familiar.

Describing the faint remains of what he could recall, Avalon listened to the youth, nodding silently as he described his wish. Keeping his sides short and the hair on the top of his head slightly longer, Avalon finished after a few final adjustments.

„Go wash off the rest of the hair on you… I will clean this up."

Midas turned away from Avalon with a slight nod, standing up from the stool as the man blew some of the remaining hair off the comb.

The well that was built into the corner of the compound seemed to be at least the same age as the burg; dark green moss flourished in the cracks in between the stones that made up the circular base, a sloped wooden roof built on top of it.

Pulling at the string that hung down loosely into the hole, Midas eventually retrieved a wooden bucket from underneath. The sky above him was bright enough to dimly reflect his face on the water, allowing the boy to look at his shorter hair with a pleased look.

The water that splashed down onto his face was cold; the youth squeezed his lids together at the incoming water. Holding the wooden bucket up over his head to wash his newly cut hair—the loose hair remaining being carried off of him by the water.

His hair dampened by the water, Midas made his way back to Avalon, passing by old dummies—one of the three had suffered a cut in its hay-filled torso, tearing up the cloth that held the plump body—which was nailed onto a wooden pole, together. The three of them lined up in front of the wooden wall that encircled the barren compound.

Midas watched the two woolly beasts that tiredly munched on the hay that was put in their feeding tray, staying under the protective roof of their stall. The carriage that was parked next to it is already gone.

Back at the entrance again, Midas watched Avalon as he swung the broom for a last time, piling up the scattered hair that lay around the unused stool, placing it onto the rocky wall of the bar as he turned to the boy.

„We will have to speed some things up… Our time is limited, and Gunvar will arrive here soon to train you in fighting. Do you think you'll be able to memorize a whole new alphabet of characters until tomorrow…?"

With a somewhat sorry smile, Avalon greeted the boy, making his eyes widen slightly at his words. Even though learning a new language seemed much easier to master than fighting—having to learn for the written part of the exam was becoming daunting.

„They are testing people that are relatively new to the water kingdoms, though… I can hardly imagine the test being really complex…"

Avalon nodded as he began to shift his body against the heavy wooden door of the burg, looking at the boy scratching his head as he held open the door for him.

„Nonetheless… Whatever questions they do bring up most likely are written with the runic table of the northern territories. That's why learning how to pronounce these letters might come in handy… In addition, learning actual words will become much easier."

From one of the corners of the entrance hall, Avalon carried another wooden stool for Midas to sit on, placing it next to his. As Midas sat down, his eyes followed the movements of Avalon's hand across the bleak paper. A fine dark line following his hand, as the tip of the pencil translated his movements into shapes that were being written on the paper.

Right in front of him, one by one, Avalon drew a slightly bigger symbol followed by tinier characters that describe its sound—written in the language used in the desert. As he was finished, the youth's eyes gazed upon fifteen symbols, their form much more elegant than the blocky symbols of the desert language.

„There, you'll have to use these to construct your words and sentences… Make sure to remember them when we go further."