And we return to the District.

Yeah, so the interlude chapters will mainly concentrate on Tania, so you shall be seeing a lot more of her. She tends to be pretty angsty, I think so beware. I don't think she'll be too whiny about it, but still.

Anyways, we return, and we get more tales! Or, more specifically, our first overly long 'epic' style tale, at any rate. These will be sort of like the voyages of Sinbad from the 1001 Nights, where they take several nights to tell. But how do I make that work? You shall see.

The Hero Balgernon's Quest

When I returned to the district, things were relatively in order. Marius had not touched my audio equipment, James had not told him I had come to him about my dilemma with Caroline, Abejide was staying out of affairs as usual, and I did not see Hendrik or Dawid like I figured I would.

Thus, when I had gone to my day shift the next day, I remember just looking into the camp, watching the poleepkwans mill about. James and Abejide seemed to notice that I was lost in space while looking at them, and I could constantly hear Abejide pressing James for answers. He did not say anything, thankfully, as I would have wanted to tell Abejide by myself why I was looking so intently at the aliens.

Finally, though, he shrugged, realizing he would not get any answers from James, and proceeded to walk by my side.

"Hey, man, what's with you today?" he asked, his question not derailing my train of thought as I had heard him ask James repeatedly.

I shrugged. "I guess I'm just feeling rather chipper today," I replied. "That, and I'm curious about these prawns..."

Abejide raised an eyebrow uncertainly. "Hm... Is that why you came all the way here from Scotland?"

I nodded. "Partly," I replied. "You can attribute it to that, at any rate..."

Abejide gave me an odd look. "And that's why you took your master's degree and tore it to shreds when you came here?"

Upon hearing this, I started, turning to him with a shocked expression on my face. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?" I asked. "I would never rip that thing apart!"

"Well, according to Marius you went to America and went to college there," replied the Nigerian. "You said you went to college, but not in America! Don't those people get other jobs?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Well, they can, but some don't get as much luck as they really should," I replied. "I am here partly for that reason. And as well, because I was curious about the prawns..."

Abejide simply shrugged. "I dunno, man," he said. "I just don't get why you'd come here when you can do other things."

I glanced to the side briefly before shrugging. "You'll find out in due time, my friend," I replied softly. "For now, think of it this way; some people are quite curious as to what would happen if they went face to face with the unknown."

Raising an eyebrow, he shrugged before going back to stand by James again. And I was quite certain that the Nigerian would leave me alone afterwards.

That afternoon, though, Abejide proved me wrong by coming over to me after using James' computer for a brief period. We were both sitting in our tents, and I had just eaten when he came over to me.

"Hey, Curtis, can I ask ya something?" he asked.

"Sure," I said, nodding. "What's up?"

"Well..." he said. "I don't know what to make of your... 'curious'... or whatever. I'm not sure you're right."

"How come?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Well, when you got you family somewhere..." he began, gesturing with his hands. "Don't you miss each other sometimes?"

I looked at him, and shrugged. "Well, when you went to college in America for two years, I can honestly tell you that the parents get used to it," I replied in a three-quarters truth. "As for me, I get very used to it. Why do you ask?"

"Well, don't you think that such things like this aren't... good for being away from your family?" he asked.

I shook my head then, chuckling slightly. "Well, let me put it this way," I said. "If this curiosity eats away at you, then what do you do? I could not fight the temptation. And so... here I am, looking at them."

Abejide looked at me oddly, standing up and shrugging. "I still don't get why you here," he said. "What is it about this 'curious' that makes you come down here? Why you want to come here?"

It hit me then; Abejide's accent was strong enough to imply that English was not his first language. "Oh, uh..." I said. "Well, you see, I just wanted to see these things very close. I wanted to come over and see them with my own two eyes. And... there's a feeling I got when I first came here that overpowered me eventually. And I felt good."

The man nodded. "I see..." he said. "But I don't entirely understand how it happened..."

I nodded. "Well, in American universities, there's something called 'studying abroad'," I explained then. "And what it does, is it lets us study in a place outside of the city where we're studying. You follow?"

"Of course," replied Abejide, nodding.

"Good," I said. "So... I spent half a year in Johannesburg. It was a little under a year ago when I went, actually. And that's how I came to know them..."

My fellow guard nodded, realizing my point. "I see... I had that kind of curious too..." he admitted. "But my family is in Soweto. So I don't understand why you come from Scotland to here."

Thinking about it harder, I nodded. "Point taken," I said. "But when you think about it, people do things for the strangest reason..."

My companion nodded as he shrugged. "Yah, man," he said.

"And as well, there is a tale of a man who spent ten years away from home fighting a war and ten years trying to get home after he offended a god," I added, raising a finger. "A job in South Africa is not too bad in comparison, yes?"

Abejide laughed softly as he looked at me. "I hear ya," he said.

And with this, he dropped the subject. He turned back to James' computer, and then he left me alone with the question.

That night, Marius covered for me again as I journeyed into the district to Caroline's tent. Upon arriving there that night, I saw that Harold was not occupying his usual space in the tent. For that matter, neither were Jamecyn or David.

Before I could ponder on much, however, Edward greeted me in the same detached way he always greeted me.

"Good evening," he said as I noticed Mark patting Matthew's head lightly as he tucked him in to bed.

"Good evening, Edward," I said, going into the tent. "Where are David, Jamecyn, and Harold?"

"Out," replied Mark softly.

"At this hour?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. My question had levity; it was past the curfew, and anybody caught outside would be shot. I shouldn't have cared so much, but I was a possible target in this, so I knew that to walk out at this time was especially dangerous. "How come?"

"A friend of Harold's had a small problem..." replied the father softly as he looked down on his son. "So they're with him now, helping him do something."

I detected the faintest hint of a lie in what he said, but I did not address it as I was sure it was something trivial or overly personal. I turned instead to Matthew, who seemed very tired.

"Story man!" exclaimed Matthew tiredly.

"Hey, Matthew," I said, smiling softly as I edged closer to him. "How are you?"

"Tired..." he replied. "But I'm not going to bed until I hear a story."

I raised an eyebrow before turning to Caroline. This was quite strange to me. Usually she told the stories that Matthew went to sleep on, the clicks and warbles all sounding rather odd in the nigh as a way of making someone fall asleep. But she was sitting with Edward that night, and that more than anything else threw me off.

"Didn't you tell him a story already?" I asked her, gesturing to Matthew.

Caroline shook her head softly. "He wanted to hear something different," she replied. "Ever since you said you had your own stories that you tell on Wednesday, he's been waiting to hear them. All he's been talking about lately is how you're going to tell him a story and that it will be a great moment in his life."

I blinked, just a little nervous at what this meant. "You mean... he wants me to tell a story?" I asked.

"You collect them," replied Edward. "We all figured you would know a few. Is there a problem?"

"No, actually," I replied. "It's just, this is a little wierd to me, you understand?"

Heads nodded all around me, and then I knew that I would have to tell Matthew a story before the end of the night. I nodded then, a tale instantly coming to my mind as I turned to Matthew.

"All right then," I said, smiling to the young poleepkwa. "So you want to hear one of my stories?"

Matthew was too tired to say anything, but when his expression lit up I knew he was excited. I nodded, smiling as I looked down at him."

"All right," I said, breathing in and relaxing a little. "In the beginning, there was an empty darkness..."

And so I proceeded to tell little Matthew the Greek creation myth, from when Nyx laid the golden egg that became the earth to when Pandora let hope out of the box that Zeus had given her the night after she had released all of the plagues upon the world. It was a story better left for later, but since I had the feeling that I would be telling him many tales, I decided I should start with the creation and then branch out into the Greek gods and their back stories and then on to the Greek heroes that had become so loved by everybody. As I told the tale, I made lofty gestures with my hands that he did not seem to pay attention to. And as I brought the tale to its conclusion, the poleepkwa slowly fell asleep, and a small silence took a hold of the air.

I made no attempt to move as Matthew began to breathe slowly, sleep having already over him as he had a peaceful look on his face.

Mark broke the silence first. "Is that really how your world was created?" he asked.

I shook my head. "It would be amazing, but unfortunately, no," I replied. "We have many, many different tales of how the world was created, believe me. I'm going with one culture of stories for now, though."

The group of three nodded. "If you don't mind me asking, what constitutes a culture?" asked Edward.

"Well..." I began, pondering how best to explain it to them when a thought came to mind. I had been told by MNU sources that there were several distinct kinds of poleepkwa, all of which inhabited different parts of their home world. I at first was perplexed as to why they would seem to care about that little detail, but when I saw that they had diverse plate colors and that some people acted a little more differently from others, I suddenly realized that they had a point.

And indeed, Caroline had confirmed this, but that she would tell me their own creation story on their own time. This ended up being within the first week that we saw each other. (I would write it again, but I have published it in a prior collection.)

Thinking of this, I nodded. "You know how there are Wavers and Rocklanders within your population?" I asked. Upon seeing them nod, I smiled. "Well, 'cultures' are something very similar to that. See, the world used to be separated into several groups, and from those groups arose distinct cultures all over the world. It's from each one that we get various stories."

"Oh," said Caroline, nodding. "So the culture you're talking about now...?"

"They would be called the Greeks," I replied. "There are also the Norse, Japanese, Bantu, Native American, Indian, and Aborigine cultures. Today there are thousands, but those are the basic ones."

"Most interesting..." replied Edward at length. "But isn't that a bit much for one world?"

"Well, the thing is, for the first thousand years of our civilizations, there were no communications between cultures," I replied. "So they developed their own tracks, and their stories are radically different from each other."

"It's kind of hard to believe there are so many..." replied Mark, rubbing a claw against his mouthparts as he thought about it.

"I guess..." I said. "But don't you have your own cultural divisions?"

"Partly," replied Caroline. "But the only real difference before we were forced to leave our home planet between us was that sometimes we had different ways of doing things. We all have similar stories, just slight modifications of it depending on who tells the tale. Some tales are completely their own, but the many tales that are similar..."

I nodded, thinking about how there were a few versions of what happened to Helen before the Trojan war. "But this was over your whole home world?"

The poleepkwa nodded, antennae twitching about nervously.

"I see..." I said, pulling my audio recording device out. "So I guess a story is in order?"

"If you're ready," she told me simply. "If you don't mind, this one's very long, and I don't think I can finish it in one night."

I shrugged. "Well, if that's the case, you don't have to tell it all tonight," I replied. "The storyteller Scheherazade didn't do that when she told her husband all 1001 of her tales."

"Who?" asked Edward, eye ridges forming an expression of confusion on his face.

"Her name is Sheherezade," I said. "If I'm around here long enough, I will definitely tell."

"Well, if you decide it's all right to break it up..." she said, nodding. "Whenever you're ready."

I nodded, and hit record twice on my audio recording device before nodding to her.

It was then that she began her tale.

Once, long ago, there was the great one Balgernon of Hravendia*. The great one had a relatively normal life as far as anybody was concerned. Balgernon was blessed by good fortune, the great one's family was supportive, and all in the village were familiar with his face in a friendly manner.

Balgernon was always far too curious for the safety of the self, however. The great one always went on its own way, and it never stopped asking questions at all during its youth. Balgernon did indeed have enough curiosity to anger some of the people around the great one, but at the end of the day, Balgernon was capable of knowing when enough was enough.

And so, the great one's youth passed without very much activity occurring in its life. Balgernon's life was in order. The great one was soon to acquire a mate, the entire colony was accepting its choice, and all other things were falling into place in its life.

Unfortunately for Balgernon, destiny had many plans contrary to what he thought would be best for him.

The great one's fate changed when a group of four vagabonds came into the colony. They came during the day, softly and quietly as if almost to not be noisy. They probably would not have been noticed if not for the fact that they were Rocklanders. They moved quietly, going softly through the town and staying in a local villager's hut without so much as a sound.

That night, Balgernon's curiosity had gotten the better of it. So in the night, the great one went to the vagabonds, whom were still awake somehow. Balgernon watched in trepidation, creeping amongst the huts as it got closer to the site where they were staying.

There, as Balgernon creeped in, he found their hosts dead on the ground, the four ruffians sitting by their remains and laughing heartily about what Balgernon interpreted as a kill. So frightened was the great one that it stayed by the house, praying it would not be seen by the ruffians. After hearing them discuss the death of their hosts for a great amount of time, the great one moved to leave. Unfortunately, it made too much noise, and so all was silent in the air for a few seconds.

Without pausing to think, Balgernon then went running through the village, screaming out in long, drawn out warbles that one of the colonists was dead. The ruffians heard this, and with a start, they rushed out, chasing after the curious one. Bolting out of the village in panic, Balgernon had not seen the rest of the colony come out to the great one's aid. And before Balgernon knew what it was doing, it was far, far away from the village and into the surrounding forests of Hravendia. So frightened was Balgernon that it spent the remainder of the night there, looking up to the moons for comfort.

When the great one returned to the colony the next morning, however, it found nothing but tragedy awaiting it. For over the course of the night, the colonists had turned on the ruffians. Unfortunately, the ruffians were more cunning than the colonists, and so the four of them razed the village with fire, some of it still burning away at some huts. The great one's ordinary life was destroyed, and this was a realization it came to quickly as it stumbled back into its home.

Its family had been murdered. Its mate had been crucified by burning planks. The colony was utterly destroyed. Its friends were dead.

In its sorrow, Balgernon could do naught but stare in horror. In its anguish, it could not form a single word.

And in its guilt, the great one nearly collapsed from shock.

So the next day, Balgernon set out from his birthplace to lands far away. The great one travelled not for revenge, but for pennance.

"And I'll have to continue it tomorrow night."

Here, Caroline broke the flow of the story, ending on just the right note. I nodded sadly at this.

"A quest for redemption..." I said to myself softly. "Sounds an awful lot like the tale of Heracles."

Caroline blinked at me, sapphire eyes a little surprised. "What is that?"

"Heracles?" I asked. "He is a hero of the Greek culture. I will get to him soon with Matthew, don't worry. But he had a similar thing occur to him where he was driven into a rage and killed his wife and children and then wondered around as penance. He slew a great many monsters while he was repenting, as well..."

Caroline nodded. "No such luck with Balgernon," she replied softly. "He encountered people all around him that affected him deeply on his quest for redemption."

"I see..." I said, nodding. "I wonder... does he help them?"

"You shall see," replied the poleepkwa. "For now, you should get back before anybody who isn't your friend notices."

I nodded, looking over to Mark and Edward. Mark had fallen asleep by his son, while Edward continued looking at me stoically. "Good night," I said to him softly.

Edward simply bowed his head. "And to you as well," he replied.

And with this, I stepped out of the tent, weaving around the spotlights slowly as they scoured the landscape for something to highlight for the guards to shoot.

Here I must confirm that we have a very long tale, and that this is the only tale I've collected that's been published in an earlier edition. This is a heavily condensed version, however, and unlike the epic in full that got its own book, we must work with a condensed version. The tale of Balgernon has become synonymous with the poleepkwa's plight to many; the lone one's quest for redemption, and the people that they meet on the way has become something of a summary of the poleepkwa's time here.

However, I place the tale of Balgernon here for more reasons than just that it's chronologically correct. For I think the characters of Balgernon's tale can relate to the many people around me at the time. And so, we have a series of character studies of the people that I met in that small camp away from Johannesburg through the characters that Balgernon met on his journeys.