The sun was hanging low in the sky, and Francois was coming out of the big stone vault through which the students left the dormitory-tower. He had been studying for about half an hour, but he was imaginative and could mostly think up most of the answer during the exam itself. Half an hour was not that long, obviously, but he still felt glad to be out in the fresh air again.
Francois' mind was not in the present. At least he was freed for the moment from his idiotic, self-castigating non-thoughts, but he wasn't really in the right zone for merriment: the fair would be an ordeal.
Madheera was standing at the usual spot in front of the chapel. There was something serene about his appearance, kind of ethereal or weightless.
"Hello, my friend." he said.
"Hello Madheera." said Francois. "Are you okay?"
"Why? This one feels fine. Actually, this one feel superb. Something in Madheera's head just came together and he thinks he knows everything he needs to know now."
"Really?" Francois said, slightly worried. Madheera had been more eccentric lately, aloof; he could suddenly fall silent and stare out in front of him, for no apparent reason. "All right then, let's go."
They walked up together down the street. Some monk was standing on the corner, preaching about the mercy of Stendarr.
"So what kind of enlightening thought did you have?"
"It's like, a man should never stop moving, right, but he should be conscious of his actions too; so this one thought: don't stop mid-action, but also, do something else if it doesn't work; and mostly, make tasks smaller so that you can get over them easier, and don't get stuck."
"What?" Francois said, slightly taken aback.
"Madheera doesn't expect you to understand. It is a very superficial, but nevertheless crucial thought that helps someone act naturally and wisely."
Francois was surprised to hear Madheera speak about wisdom: usually he was very careful with big statements.
"All right, I respect your reservations - I am sure it makes sense to you."
"It does, my friend. It is so simple that it is actually not even worth thinking about too much. That's partially the elegance of it. But it is very... mental, cerebral even. This one is a cerebral being. You, Madheera supposes, are far more cerebral than most. You could be more cerebral than this one, but this one doesn't wish that for you."
"Do you feel superior to me?" Francois felt like he didn't know his friend.
"This one feels almost nothing, my friend. But you are this one's friend, and we help each other no matter what."
"You didn't answer my question."
Madheera always spoke in the third person, except when he said my friend: it was a sign of his weirdness, both as a Khajit and as a sentient person.
"Let's just go to the fair."
After about fifteen minutes of walking, they arrived at the town square, where the fair was taking place.
The musicians Antoinette had mentioned were close to the entrance; indeed they were mostly Argonians, but two of them were of Redguard and Khajit race.
Madheera quickened his pace, and said: "Francois, I am going to the archery tent. I'll see you later, yes?"
"Sure." said Francois. He knew Madheera was quite an enthusiastic archer - he would be there for a while.
As Madheera vanished in the crowd, Francois stayed to listen to the musicians. They played interestingly, with snake-like lines, but also with deep resonant tones that betrayed a Dark Elf influence.
Suddenly an old man came up to him.
He spoke augustly, formally.
"Young man," the man spoke, "Please hear me for a moment."
"What is it, sir?" Francois said.
"Don't be a fool. You have come to the fair for entertainment, but I know that you are not listening to your crazed Khajit friend and to your heart. You need to open your eyes. You need to take in everything and appreciate the moment for what it is, that is to say, not the moment!"
The old man looked desperate, confused.
"What are you talking about? What are you saying?" Francois said, disturbed.
"Your ambitions!" the man thundered, "You have ambitions! You want to become a mage! Follow your heart, but think about things!"
"What!?" Francois said.
"Don't stop mid-action, or do something else, or stay mid-passion! That's all the philosophy you need! Forget about Vivec, like your friend already has!"
"But I love Vivec!" shouted Francois, but the old man had already turned around and was walking away.
Flabbergasted, Francois stared after the man, then tried to recollect himself and steady himself.
The man spoke of craziness: he said Madheera was crazy! But if he was crazy, why should he listen to him? But indeed, what he said resembled what Madheera had said in so many ways.
He froze in place. What is reality? He started to feel things, words, images, that started to impinge upon his consciousness. "Do people know I am standing here?" he thought. A girl smiled at him. He thought: "Does she always do that?" Suddenly he figured, he had some kind of impact on the world around him. "Am I losing my mind?"
But then the words came to him: Don't stop mid-action, or do something else. Or stay mid-passion. He started enumerating his passions:
"I like Vivec." he thought, confidently. "It is the great promise of my life, to know everything, to research the world, to understand absolute reality and see things clearly: this is what it is all about. You have to grow towards some higher purpose, call it however you want, call it Enlightenment, and at some point you will find peace.
"I want to be a mage, I want to do my best and be the best version of myself. I want to succeed."
The world started to make sense in a new, more prozaic way.
"I am ready to go somewhere." he thought, with a strong will.
He put one feet in front of the other and walked towards the field where two knights were fighting in the mud, surrounded by enthusiastic spectators.
"Who are the knights?" he asked a farmer who was in the crowd.
"It'sah Sir Emmanuel Gauche annah' visitor from Morrowind." the farmer answered.
Francois looked on with fascination. The two knights were in heavy armor, both fighting with swords, and constantly grappling and pushing each other. The fight was slow, lumbering and pounding. Suddenly, one of the knights cut the other in the fore-arm, and the fight was over. "Sir Larernu Perdoso is the victor!" shouted the announcer.