Interlude 1
Simon Smith had been a scribe before he was a beggar. Before the blindness.
He had always been good at numbers. At writing words that were nice to see. Times were hard, especially after he had lost his father. His mother had attempted to find work, to help him in his life, but there was just not enough money. And so he had to work, both for himself, his studies, and for his mother's ailing health.
Alas, his mother's health finally failed, and she died. They buried her in the old church, next to their father.
It was a foggy day. The sun was covered by clouds, the weather was cold and wet, the number of guests were few and the atmosphere of the funeral; utterly miserable.
He was alone after that. The house had never seemed so huge, or him so small.
Eventually, tragedy struck again. The long hours he spent in the office, hunched over, reading and writing words via candlelight, had destroyed his eyes. His vision started to blur; it became harder and harder to see the letters on the paper, until he could see no more.
The punishment was swift. Within the hour, he was jobless. Within the week, he was homeless. With nothing left except for the clothes on his back. The rest of his belongings had been stolen, lost, or just left within his room.
Begging was hard at first. Especially when one could not see the people he was begging to. The first night… was hard. With the cold winds and rats scurrying around, and nothing under him, he could barely sleep.
The nights for the next 5 years were not much better.
And now here he was, on the street again. Hopefully, he could hear someone's footsteps coming closer. Perhaps he would have some money for food?
"A few pence, sir? Please spare some charity for your fellow men? Please?" he pleaded.
The footsteps stopped.
"I'm sorry, but I'm on the way to the market. I'm afraid that I do not have enough money to spare for you." A female voice said.
His heart sank. But only slightly. He had become used to disappointments.
"But I can give you something better than money. You're blind, aren't you?".
Hearing this, he nodded.
He felt a hand placed onto his head. And a single word that he would remember for the rest of his days:"Blindna. "
For a moment, nothing happened. And then, there was light.
A young woman stood upon him. Roughly 23 years old, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She had a white hood and robe covering her, with red triangles at the bottom.
All this was inconsequential, to the fact that he could see.
Stunned, he looked downwards. He saw the cobblestones upon the road. He saw his legs. He brought his arms to his face.
Those were his hands.
"I can see." He whispered.
"Yes, you can, now. I'm a white mage. I suppose that this is enough to compensate for not having money to give you. Is it ok?".
Still shocked by the fact he had his sight back, he could only nod his head a few times.
The young woman then walked away, humming a tune.
He stood there for a time.
He did not know how long.
Finally, it struck him. He could see! He was no longer a cripple! He could find work again! He had his life back!
Uttering a cry of joy which elicited several screams from the young ladies walking past him, he sprung upright, and waving his arms above him, he ran through the streets of London, shouting for all to hear :"I can see! I can see again!"
Ten minutes later, he was taken down by several policemen for disruptive behavior. Even as they threw him into the jail, he was still smiling and laughing, talking to them about how the lady in white had healed him.
-
Humming a tune, the magician continued to the market, not seeing the popped monocles and shocked gasps from the ladies around her as she walked down the street.