Ermand couldn't find himself agreeing to the idea of touching the ball. All it would take is to merely touch the ball but he shook his head and began stalking toward the stairs. 

"Ermie?" Mrs. Chisel's voice stopped him. "What is it dear?"

He wished if he could confess all of the feelings that were churning inside him but the repulsions that stirred along within himself told him not to bother them, no matter how close his mother was to him. 

"Nothing… I'll check it out in the evening. I'm going to Goffy's café. Might if he gives me a day's wage?"

"Didn't he kick you out?" Mrs. Chisel's voice, unlike the usual straightforwardness, carried some sarcasm, but not a mockery to her beloved son.

"I was his employee for a long time."

Without sparing a moment for his mother to contradict him, he walked out of the house and set out to the nearest Locoshifter station. 

The Locoshifter is the vehicle of the common folks of Tawarn ; a large white circular, raised platform with a dull-gray hemispherical metal shield, encasing three-quarters of its circumference. 

Usually, the Locoshifter drivers wear a gray uniform but Ermand noticed the colour has changed. It was cyan. 

"To Candlewick downtown," Ermand produced several old-minted bronze coins and handed it to the conductor since forgot to take a ticket from the ticket counter at the station.

"Didn't ya know the rates have increased? Boy, a war is going to happen here, everything is going to get chilled," the man said, nibbling on a slender wooden stick in his mouth. He gazed Ermand through his half-opened eyes. "Five more Erats, please."

"Why- here…"

Ermand didn't bother to question the poor conductor and gave him the Erats he demanded. What would've he known? But he was tempted to get a brief justification to all of his questions. 

When the Locoshifter left him at the Candlewick Locoshifter station, two ideas were promptly labelled in his mind. One, he's somehow going to get a job or it'd be difficult for his family to render any further of their expenses. Two, he wanted to know what was exactly happening in Tawarn. And there's no better place than the capital city of Tawarn : Candlewick. It would be the best place to seek out both his needs.

Ermand walked through broad and clean as well as the narrow and filthy streets. He noticed some undistinguished fear or despondence in each of the faces he had passed by. However, he didn't stop by anywhere to ask all of those prevailing questions he had in mind. Ermand's pace slowed down and finally came to a halt at the footstep of a shabby café. Goffy's Goblet café.

There are three types of café one could find anywhere in and around the country, and they are the Zenoid café, the Sachet café, and the Goblet café. Zenoid cafés are the most expensive place to grab a snack and are restricted to everyone below the high clan, while Sachet cafés depend on how rich or at least, how developing the owner of the café is. And at last, the Goblet café belong to those who somehow manages to serve people with snacks despite the scruffy ambience

It has been more than a couple of years since Ermand had worked for Goffinald 'Goffy' Rauffin. Even though Goffinald belongs to the upper middle clan, his demeanor and behaviour barely speaks of it.

Surnames are given according to the clan one belongs to and so lives are separated.

Since the old times, people were classified into clans in order to maintain peace and hold the country together, as it was believed. This stratification was predominantly based on their ancestry, job one does, and magical ability (which has a very minor role). The highest rank - the Odistte, cannot be inherited from ancestry or occupation but by power and birth purity. An Odistte is he or she who was born for a Protector or an Odistte. A protector is an advanced Spellcaster who takes care of a single element in the existence of their environment and society. One should be born with the privilege and cannot be inherited in order to be a Protector. Whoever the Spellcaster might be, the son or the daughter of a low grade clanship member or a high grade, the duty descends on those who seem apt for the responsibility. They withhold immense power so as to maintain and protect the purity of an undiverted mind and peace among people. An Odistte gains almost more than the equal power than their own parents. 

However, Odisttes are rare. They are thought to be ungovernable to their own powers which led to the high grade clans to think that their prevalence can lead to much havoc, and hence, every Odisttes that are born, if not in the nurture of the Protectors, are killed before they turned eighteen. If an Odistte exists, without being properly bred by a Protector and exceeds eighteen, it is believed to expect them to obliterate a country's functioning and structure greater than any war could possibly do. And so, Odisttes are extremely rare.

The clan that rules over the mighty kingdoms and democratic countries are the high clans - the Qorders, the Chestnuts, the Lewcents, the Grottins and the Trainors. Qorders are the ones that usually run the government. The high-graders are all rich and powerful (in a democratic way). The Chestnuts are called 'the noble ones', the Lewcents are known to be the intellectual, the Grottins are the 'master merchants' ever known and the Trainors are brave and callous. 

When it comes to the middle-grade clans and much lower than that, any special abilities or any adjectives would be nugatory to add even though they comprise the majority of the population. They are classified as the upper middle and the lower middle. Upper middle consists of Estrels, Rauffins, and the Vinns. And the lower middle wraps up Flauses, Dallers, Spearses, Logges, and the Chisels. The upper middle clans mostly work as professionals while the lower middle clans work to assist the former.

Lastly, the low-grade clans that consist of Barlours, Halchalcs, Stins, Cloddes and the Lapels. They're considered exceptionally poor and are permitted to jobs that are extremely low and unhygienic. Any low clan member might not have surpassed a day without starving. Below this clan, there are the forsaken clans that are born to serve as slaves to their masters -- the high rankers. They are not even considered to exist independently and are homeless in every sense, and whatnot? They are not the responsibility of the government! Moreover, they're not even allowed to name themselves but are given numbers to identify them. Helping more than what's required or rather feeding them properly while they work for one without expecting wages, shall be considered a serious crime and strict legal actions are taken against the offender. And so, Iyerth is the place where kindness and love can be the least expected of all.

The old bell chimed when Ermand made his presence inside the Goblet café. As soon as he felt inside the café, a state of apprehension ceased him. It reminded him of how he had been treated by Goffy when he last set his foot inside. But he shook off the idea and scanned the place around him.

Chucker, his work mate, was busy serving the customers. Ermand could see how hard he was working to shut Goffy's garbling mouth. Even though Chucker noticed Ermand, he didn't bother to acknowledge him more than just an unfinished nod. But Ermand knew well.

The café was all shabby, unclean and barely impressive but the food served were sizzling enough to compel the customers to visit the same place the next day, which made Goffy's Goblet café standing as it is for more than a decade. Ermand noticed the strangeness in the café. Despite being shabby, the craggy brick walls that were usually labelled with the posters of old dramas, advertisements of new innovations, invitations to public speeches that introduced novelty in the lives of the unfortunate from great philosophers were not there. Instead there were only instructions from the senate of Tawarn. Instructions regarding the war.

Oh, I didn't realize a war could change the whole demeanor of a country…

"Ofcourse new employment will surge after this!" He heard a fat man, full of bushy ginger hair that covered half of his face but none of the parts of his head, declared.

"And many deaths. Are they sending the slaves or those belonging to the low clan?" Another man, chugging a bottle of some dizzying drink, asked him. Ermand despised the smell of it. It was called Garge, an alcoholic drink that people appraise of giving them new heights of emotions and euphoria. Although it was called a café, one could expect every kind of edible stuff in a Goblet café. 

"Ofcourse, do you think they're going to send us, the upper middle, to all of this mess?" The bushy man replied, cracking a piece of biscuit. He smirked at the poor waiters and continued grumbling something to his friend.

Surely, even if it's the wedding of the Greatmen or the Greatladies or a wrecking war, it is the people that belong to the low levels of the society that will suffer. 

Without turning a glance at the money-counter, where Goffy usually rests his bum on the tiny stool, his gaze went toward the sheet of paper pinned against the wall which contained the instructions. And what if, their duties?

**********

Yes, yes. For those of you who have read The Aslehm quest might be wondering if there were a clan named Waps at all? In truth, this is a long-dwelled but short story. I initially had this idea of keeping the name Floss for the clan that has been named as Waps but wiped out the idea since Floss might seem a bit weird to name a clan. But now I see it, why not Flaus?

Yes, that's the story. Lol.