Rog's deadline arrived, one week had passed since the decision that they would take the dust to the the correct authority. Over the week Missy had organized various jobs for the children. One third, made up of the most skilled thieves, were ordered to \"borrow\" the best looking clothes they could gather from the market places and washing lines within the city. Some others had been ordered to gather the all the dust they could find, hiding on the shattered remains of vases on the broken windows and the burnt rocks. And the final group was given the job of running the protection drills, slingshots, catapults and other impromptu weapons were fashioned.
\"I'm havin' second thoughts, Missy\" Rog said shaking his head as he stood dressed in the most ridiculous attire he had ever been shoved into. The trousers were too long and had to be tucked
into the boots that were alarmingly uncomfortable, the shirt was too small and flashed his stomach, Rog attempted to hide this with a coat missing one tail. He tried to convince himself this was
all worth seeing Missy in a long, pink dress fully accompanied with a matching bow in her squirrel red hair.
Of the three going on this mission, Brains looked the best. The main bulk of his \"Respectable Young Male\" costume actually fitted.
\"No, Rog. We have to do this okay, for the money 'member.\" Missy reminded him, she carried the small burlap sack filled with the blue, dancing, dust in a pearl clasped hand bag. At the end of
the gathering the sack was only half full however the dust had proven quite dense in weight and weighed just over a kilogram.
\"Yes, Roger. Remember this is as much a benefit to you, and the children as a whole, as it is for the scientific community\" Brains added.
\"Hush up smarty before I hit some of 'em brain cells into better use.\"
Missy and Brains exchanged exasperated looks.
Once behind the city walls the true problem surfaced, where does one hand in magical artifacts. The local alchemist was one of Rog's friends in the city, over the years he had gathered quite a few helpful companions in the adult world, but they doubted he would know what to do with pure magic. The Mage's council was of course the first thought, but they were incredibly tight with their hearings and would certainly not meet with three children dressed like court jesters.
\"We could try the Town Hall\" Brains suggested, \"I mean even if we can not hand it in there they could at least tell us where we could\".
\"Good Idea that is.\" Missy agreed,
\"I'm not too sure, there's pigs at the town hall... I'm stayin' right here and I'll look for somewhere else.\"
Reluctantly the trio split leaving Rog to wander the streets alone, this was of course his more favorable past times.
He snatched a loaf of bread from a stall and slid it under his coat until he was a reasonable distance away from the seller and ate it. It was on these occasions he would dream up his stories, the tales of his mother and father. There wasn't an island in the ocean or a cloud in the sky the Dicksons had not had an adventure on, at least in Rogers' mind. In truth, he simply assumed his parents were low down thugs, killed by bandits that had spared him. He had little memory of his life up until he was ten years old, standing in the forest looking up at the broken remains of the Den.
There was a thud, and Roger found himself sitting on the hard cobbles. A large man stood with a cane in his hand, his stomach bulged like a frog's throat. He wore a long orange robe and on his
head sat a pointed grey hat.
\"I do say, watch where you are going you horrid little street urchin\" said the Mage.
\"Oi, who you callin' an urchin!\" Rog responded angrily.
\"Oh begone pest, I have very important businesses to attend to.\" with that the Mage waddled off like a plump goose in the direction of the Town Hall.
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