The ways of the Krosmoz are impenetrable. Who can boast they know its limits? Or even sketch its outlines? Eras, planets, planes, dimensions… only a handful of superior beings – gods, demons, dragons – have pale glimmers of light to shed on the subject. Forget everything you know. Temporis responds to no rules…




"I warned you, furball…"

An imposing figure, flanked by two militia members, stooped to walk through the door. His huge hairy black and white wrists were bound with thick metal bracelets. The figure entered the dark room. Each step he took was heavy and impressive. The soldiers seated the massive adventurer on a chair, which instantly creaked under his weight – the two representatives of the forces of order looked at each other apprehensively – but did not give way. The militiamen left the interrogation room. Because that is exactly what it was: four walls within which victims, witnesses or the guilty were questioned.

The adventurer was seated at a table under a bright light. He had a cloth bag over his head. Despite that, he seemed carefree. His swaying made him seem quite nonplussed, a bit like a Piwi in a henhouse. An Osamodas agent swiftly removed the bag, revealing the smiling face of a Pandawa, his tongue hanging out:

"Lunchtime already?" he asked with infectious joy.

"Not yet, Mr… Kubiak."

It wasn't the Osamodas who answered; she just stared at him with pinched lips. It was the second agent in the room – a Feca wearing large square glasses. Both were dressed identically: white shirts with their sleeves rolled up, and black trousers. It was the first time that Jaillat Kubiak had seen female adventurers dressed like that, they seemed more like male adventurers.

The Osa was standing. The Feca was seated across from the Pandawa. She pulled a quiver out from under the table and put it under his nose.

"Does this item belong to you, Mr. Kubiak?"

His tongue hanging out like a Peki Peki's, the Pandawa looked at the Feca and then the Osa without the slightest hint of malice.

"Yes! Do you have my bow, too?"

The two agents looked at each other.

"And how is it that you came to be using this equipment, Mr. Kubiak? You're a Pandawa."

"It'd usually be a pint and wooden flip-flops!" said the Osa breaking her silence.

Jaillat stared back at them both, innocently. The lack of understanding seemed to float in the air. The silence stretched out briefly.

"Are you a Scrollsayer, Mr. Kubiak?"

The sentence fell like an anvil in the middle of the room. But it had no effect on the Pandawa:

"A Scrollsaywhat?" asked Jaillat cheerfully.

The Osa threw herself at the witness and shook him like a tree.

"Listen carefully, you Pandalooser! I don't like the looks of you! And your stupid act doesn't fool me! I'm sure you've got something brewing…"

"Oh, right! Is it happy hour then?!"
"Mr. Kubiak," said the bespectacled Feca. "Tell us your story."
"From birth?"
"…No, not from birth! Obviously!… Tell us about you, this bow and this quiver!"
"Sure thing… And then after, we'll go get a bite to eat, right?"
"Yes, Mr. Kubiak…"



"You're probably wondering how a disciple of Pandawa, who has a reputation of seeing double, started shooting a bow and arrow. Well, it's quite simple, really… As you know, we Pandawas are hearty eaters and gurus…"

"Drunks, the lot of you…" muttered the Osa.
"Certain fermented beverages," continued Jaillat "help us access certain truths."
"Interesting… You need to drink to realize you're drunks…"
"Miss Isis!" said the Feca as a reprimand.
"As I was saying… Abusing fermented beverages, such as bamboo milk, is dangerous for your health. So, I would get violent headaches after…"
"Hangovers, you mean…" said Isis the Osamodas.
"Anyway… My uncle, Rufus de la Pampa had a fail-proof remedy, a family recipe that was fiercely effective, that he passed down to me when I turned eighteen – his famous gazp'ouch-no. It's a mixture of fermented garlic, fermented onions, and fermented tomato in fermented bamboo milk."
"Don't you ever consume anything without fermenting it first?" asked the Feca sincerely, staring out from behind her large square glasses.
"Uh… Boss…"
"Sorry. Go on!"
"It just so happens that it takes years of practice to master the art of making this magic remedy and, well, one day I got the doses wrong. And I accidentally used shallots instead of onions, too… They're easier to digest… Anyway, to cut the story short… My headache didn't go away, but it would get a bit better whenever I focused on something. It seemed my eyesight was better than ever, and had become so sharp I could even see a fly fart at 100 paces!"
"Handy…" commended Isis.
"So, I started focusing on lots of things. Staring at them. Aiming at them. I made myself a bow out of a bamboo shoot…"
"This one?" asked the Feca agent quickly, pulling a rustic weapon out from its hiding place under the table and noting that the witness had nodded. "Continue…"
"I discovered I really loved archery… and everything related to it."
"Like… studying the teachings of Cra disciples," said the horned agent.
"I suppose, yes. But I don't understand, what's wrong with that?"
"Do you think of yourself as a Crandawa now, Mr. Kubiak?" asked the Feca agent.
"Are you planning to start a new religion?" asked the Osa agent.
"Of course not, no… I'm just doing my thing. No hidden agenda, no strategy. Is being a Pandawa AND an archer so unthinkable?"
"Let's just say that it's not… in the natural order of things, Mr. Kubiak…" said the Feca agent solemnly before glancing at the door. "But we'll continue this conversation later. It seems your Pink Piwi stew is ready."
"Food? Now? Yipee! By the spotted goddess, I'm so hungry I could eat a Boowolf!"

The two soldiers who had brought him in came back to escort him out. As he left the room, Jaillat pricked his ears:

"What do you think? I don't trust him…" said the Osa.

"I think he's telling the truth," stated the Feca agent.

Kubiak smiled and then licked his lips.

To be continued…