It was a warm, sunny day today. That much was obvious to the man lying face-down on the sandy beach. Everything else, however, was a mystery. Where was he? Why was he there in the first place? And who was he, anyway? All he knew about himself is what he could see, and that he was wearing a simple white shirt with khaki pants that smelled like salt water. If he had a mirror, he’d also learn he had brown hair and black eyes, but that was information he'd have to gain later.

As the man got up, he felt something in one of his pockets. He grabbed the object and examined the item; it was a key. Immediately, the man knew this was no ordinary key. It was the size of a quill pen, it had a luster that made it look like it was made of gold, and there was a pearl where the hole for a key ring normally was. He also knew that keeping it was vitally important. Why this was the case, he did not know; one more mystery to add to the list, he supposed.

The man tried to think of what he should do next, but he saw something else in the distance that attracted his attention instead. What he saw was...

cause for either hope, or concern. In the distance, past the encroaching treeline and the large rocky outcroppings, was a thin spiral of black smoke. Smoke meant fire. Fire meant ... well, something. He stood staring for long moments, comforted only slightly by the sound of the waves rolling up the shore, and gulls in the distance.

He felt paralyzed by the surreal quality of the situation. It was hard to decide what to do without any memories to act as foundation stones, without experience to call on. It was hard to decide what he thought about the smoke other than that ... it was. He sighed and stared out to the sea for a moment. Fire ... whether or not it indicated something, it would certainly be useful to have. That alone was a good reason.

The man started walking, keeping to the beach as he went. As he came over a small rise in the sand he saw what was making the wispy spiral of smoke, it was ...

... it was a large cricket that was standing on two legs. Slowly it was moving small pieces of wood like twitches and branches on top of a red coloured fire. The fire spread warmth and caused an afterglow on the large rocks which were spread around on the beach.

The man watched the cricket carefully and with disbelief. How could a cricket be this large and why had it created a large fire? How did the cricket know how to make spirals of black smoke? The man took a step back and looked to his left and right to see if anyone else was near. It would be hard to explain to anyone what the large cricket was doing.

Then he looked up at the sky and noticed that the smoke did not disappear in the sky, instead the man noticed that the smoke was forming into a pattern or image. And what he seemed to see in the smoke ....

was a man, holding the key, unable to find a lock that would fit it. Thoughts raced through his mind. Was he seeing himself, or someone else? The previous owner perhaps? A strange sort of panic began to set over him and he could feel himself reaching for the key as if there was any chance it could have disappeared. It was his only clue, after all.

Then he laughed. He was delirious, of course. There was no other explanation. Here he was, watching a cricket maintain a fire he had probably built himself which created prophetic smoke. Suddenly things started to make more sense. He still couldn't remember a thing but he began to try and deduce his circumstances. It was likely he got into a drunken brawl on a ship, perhaps he had won the key from someone and the argument that followed got a bit too heated. He took a solid blow to the head and went overboard and of course no one had bothered to look for him.

"Yeah, that must be it." He said, sitting down by the fire. For a moment it seemed as though the cricket had looked at him, confused, but he simply continued adding wood to the fire. The Man in the Smoke seemed desperate now. Charred chests, doors and padlocks manifested themselves from the flames but none would fit the key. Eventually all that was left was the key itself, and the scene in the smoke remained unchanged. No man, no locks, just a key without a purpose or owner.

A sudden thirst overcame the man and he realised all he could taste was salt in his mouth and being dehydrated probably wasn't helping his apparent hallucinations. He got up from beside the fire and tried to think of where to go to find some fresh water when the cricket...

grabbed a cup filled with fresh water and threw the liquid on his face. Suddenly, the man felt like he wasn’t the crazy one here.

“What was that for?” he asked. He might have been more irritated if the whole situation was less absurd.

“Oh, you didn’t want that?” the cricket curiously asked.

“No!”

“Sorry.” The response was conversational and plain, not particularly apologetic at all. And after the cricket said this, he resumed tending to the fire as if nothing had happened at all. The man wasn’t sure what was going on anymore; after the cricket finished his job, he just stood there with a small smile, watching the flames. Was all of this some hallucination brought on by a lack of food and water? Finally, after a few minutes, the cricket spoke up: “this’s real.”

“...what?”

“You’re wondering if this is all real or something. Right?”

“...right.” Seriously, what was going on here?

“YES!” The cricket literally jumped for joy, grinning like a child opening birthday presents. “I did it!”

“What did you do?”

“Oh, I can read minds, but only a little.” He made a very small gap between his thumb and index finger, as if to illustrate his point. “Like your ‘hallucination’ or ‘water’ words from before, not like whole thoughts and such. I’m practicing to get better though!” This last part, he said with great enthusiasm.

The man’s eyes widened, excited by the possibility he just imagined. “Maybe you can practice by helping me with my memory? I can’t seem to remember anything about myself.”

“Nah, I’m not that good. I’unno anything about you, like why you were on that beach so long,” the cricket responded with a shrug, “just thought you might be cold.”

“Uh...thanks. Was the smoke you too?”

“My fire made the smoke, so yes?” For once, the cricket was the one who sounded confused.

“Never mind.” The man supposed it was better to focus on one mystery at a time, and this cricket could probably help him with an easier one. “Could I have some more water please?”

“Sure!” The cricket then grabbed a clay bottle, poured some water into the cup from before, and splashed it on the man’s face again.

“I meant to drink.”

“Oh,” was all the cricket said before filling up the cup once more and giving it to the man.

“Thank you.” Despite the absurdity of what had happened to him, the man couldn’t help but appreciate that he had ended up somewhere safe, at least for now. Whatever had happened, things certainly could have gone a lot worse for him, so he supposed it was time to solve another easy mystery. “So, what’s your name?”

“I’m Clark! I’m a cricket. Did you know that?”

“...yes. So what are you doing out here by yourself?”

The cricket just stared in silence. He must have been thinking. To be fair, it was hard to tell if he was staring, or even if crickets, with their all-over eyes, could even be said to squint, or if the only thing they could actually do was stare off into space, in fact a large amount of space at the same time.

It was also hard to tell how the large cricket was feeling, given his lack of squishy bits to emote with. For all intents and purposes his face was always locked into a look somewhere between pleasant disinterest and having to catch a train somewhere not-nearby.

Finally Clark spoke, this time his tone full of pep and vim and zaz. "I'm having a nice day out at the beach, a nice day to sit and nibble and read and relax and find waterlogged amnesiacs."

It was strange, to be quite honest, to hear such a bubbly and enthusiastic voice coming from a creature unable to make the simplest of facial expressions. Collecting himself, the man's brow furrowed and he glanced around. A beach day? That actually sounded rather nice, and would explain why he'd brought drinking water with him.

It would also explain the picnic basket.

Realizing he was terribly hungry, now that his thirst was dealt with, he was about to ask if he could share in the food when Clark once again preempted his need to ask. Stuffing a hand under the flap of the basket, he pulled out a fistful of leaves and stuffed them into the man's hands.

"PLEASE, eat as much as you like! I brought extra just in case, you never know who's gonna wash up." Clark was probably smiling, based on his joyful tone, not that his face showed it.

The man just looked down at the leaves in his hands, picking one up and chewing absently on it as to avoid being rude. It tasted leafy.

"You need a name." The large insect said, suddenly and without provocation, his tone deeply frustrated, seething almost. "I keep thinking 'hey Clark, what if you need to call after this mystery man in the presence of ANOTHER mystery man. How are they going to know which one of them you mean?' ... and the answer is obvious, you need a new name until you remember your real one."

The man offered a nod, it sounded reasonable enough, but what to name himself.

"You should probably go with something easy to remember like ... AAAAAH! or Terry." Clark was back to sounding excited.

"AAAAAH!?", the man asked surprised. He was a bit flabbergasted that cricket Clark expressed this kind of humor. Then he snorted to suppress a laugh. What if he was still hallucinating and other people were watching him, talking to himself and... eating leaves! The leaves were actually filling his stomach though and he wondered if the leaves were tempered with.

"These are plain old regular leaves", Clark spoke calmly yet a bit annoyed, "What if you choose to trust me from now on? I gave you water a couple of times, food and a suggestion for your name", he then winked to the man. The man sighed a bit and gave a nod to the creature. Then Clark took a few leaves for himself, put some in his mouth and started chewing on them. The height of the sun betrayed that it was lunchtime.

The large cricket seemed delighted to have his food and be around kind, yet weird company at this time of day. The man also shoved some leaved in his mouth and chewed on them as if they were a high cuisine lunch meal. He questioned himself wether he would remember his authentic name soon. The man swallowed the small leafy pieces and took a sip from his cup. He couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief.

"Well, a name like Terry doesn't sound too bad", the man then answered to cricket Clark's question. Then he mumbled in himself, making up names and combinations of them. "Alex, David, Sean, Mike, Sloan, Richard, Conrad, Lars..... I don't get a feeling with any of them. Maybe AAAAAH! fits best with me", the man laughed and looked at Clark for any reaction.

"Aaaaah..." The Cricket repeated the sound in between bites of his leaves, as if he was stuck in deep thought. "Aaaaahhhrrr..." Then Clark's eyes appeared to light up. "Arthur! That must be your name." The Man pondered. It didn't sound like his name, but he didn't know what his name was in the first place. He knew he had to pick something though, it wasn't likely that his every encounter would go as well as this one and introducing himself as an amnesiac with no name would probably get him in some kind of trouble sooner or later.

Clark looked at him with what appeared to be a smile, seemingly picking up on his acceptance of the name and the indirect compliment. "Arthur it is." The Man said, finishing up the last of his leaves. His belly was full and his thirst was quenched and yet he remained directionless. He watched the fire begin to die down when it hit him that he would be sleeping under the stars tonight if he didn't find civilization...And some gold.

"I don't supp--" Arthur began.

"No." The cheerful cricket had suddenly turned serious.

"What do you mean no?" The man was confused again.

"We're not going there." Clark shook his head and paced around the fire, slowly beginning to gather his things.

"Going where?"

"If you don't know then all the better for you. Neither of us has much to be robbed of and my kind doesn't really blend in too well in your towns."

Arthur watched the cricket collect his cups and remaining leaves and how carefully he packed them in a makeshift rucksack of sorts, a combination of sturdy looking vines and wide leaves he wasn't sure he had ever seen before.

"We have plenty of time until sunset. I would be delighted to bring you with me to my people and perhaps you can find some answers there, maybe the village doctor can do something about your amnesia." Clark chirped, his serious tone fading. "Otherwise I can give you directions to the town but I would highly suggest you don't go there. It's your choice."

Arthur accepted Clark’s offer, following him through a windy wooden trail to where he would eventually end up; the village of Fletcherville. It had the appearance of a fairly small town and it looked almost improvised due to the way the residences and buildings were built; there were lots of small wooden shacks with the odd one-story ranch house interspersed here and there. Yet the village did not look derelict; the buildings were all decorated with plants, some even being used as important parts of the structures, such as the thick ivy roof in the doctor’s office Clark had led Arthur inside of.

The more unusual part, for someone not used to such things, was that the cricket’s “people” were actually a variety of different human-sized bugs. Butterflies, ladybugs, and spiders were among the different ones Arthur saw, and this included the man he was now talking to while Clark sat nearby. Doctor Smith was a centipede. An educated centipede that had given the amnesiac man a physical earlier and was now finishing asking him a series of questions.

“And you don’t feel light headed at all?”

“No. Like I said, I was hungry and thirsty earlier, but that’s it.”

“Well Arthur, the good news is I don’t think the memory loss is from disease. You’re perfectly healthy. The bad news is that I can’t cure your memory myself.”

The man felt dejected at the news. “Nothing at all?”

“I said ‘myself.’ There might be a way to do it, but it’s a long shot.”

“How?” Arthur felt at this point he would do anything to know who he was.

“There’s a fruit called a Sun Berry. It’s in the shape of a small sphere, the size of a grape, and is an extremely bright white color - hence the name. It’s said that when one is eaten, it gives the eater extreme mental clarity, like sunshine after a storm. Based on what I’ve read of people who ate it, it will likely restore your memory.”

“That’s great!” A lead was finally in sight. “Do you know where I can get one?”

“No. I literally just said I can’t cure your memory myself.” Arthur couldn’t tell, but he thought he saw the doctor roll his eyes as he was going through a nearby cabinet. “The berry is extremely rare, so it’s not like you can just buy it at the store.”

“What should I do, then?”

“Well, you can start by delivering this.” Finishing his words, the centipede gave the man a jar the size of a dictionary filled with some kind of red powder.

The doctor had just made a big deal about what he couldn’t do, so this confused Arthur. “…how will this cure my memory?”

“It won’t. My time isn’t free and I know neither of you have gold, so you and Clark can deliver that to my patient instead. He lives in the human town and this is cheaper than mailing it.”

For the first time in a while, the cricket spoke up. “Wait, why both of us? I-”

“Can you read the word in my mind right now?” the centipede asked scornfully. He looked at Clark, waiting as long as he needed to get the point across.

After about a minute, Clark sighed. “Fine, I’ll guide him there. Who are we giving this to?”

Doctor Smith, now finished scolding Clark, turned to take stock of a shelf full of little stoppered bottles and beakers. This might have been his way of showing that the conversation was drawing to a close. He looked like he was about to give another sassy answer when Arthur noticed a small tag dangling from a string around the mouth of the jar.

Clark turned to look, having heard Arthur's thoughts of Hmm, I wonder if this tag has any information on it. Turning the tag over in his fingers, Arthur noticed that the tag had a name and an address;

"Delia Toujours, 813 Charity Lane" said Clark aloud, reading Arthur's mind as Arthur read the tag.

"Yes, yes! Be on your way, it's KIND OF important you know." The doctor offered curtly with little more than a glance over his round shoulders. The unlikely duo sighed in unison and left, pausing outside to regroup.

Clark was the first to speak "So ... I guess we ARE going there." Arthur just offered a quiet nod, thinking for a moment before adding "Are people really that mean to you?" It was still a little weird knowing that Clark could sometimes tell the shallow thoughts floating through his head. I mean I can't remember where I came from or what it was like but I feel like meeting a giant talking telepathic cricket wasn't an everyday thing, and he's been nice.

Clark sounded happy "Thank you Arthur, you're pretty decent yourself. Yeah, people call me names, or just think them really loudly, and you would be shocked what people will think you've done or are up to just by looking at you!"

Arthur just offered an awkward smile. He was used to having a little privacy throughout his entire skull, but it did sound like telepathy wasn't always entirely pleasant for Clark either.

"I guess we should get moving before it gets too late." said the man, gesturing to the path ahead of them, though not in any particular direction.

The road out of Fletcherville towards the human town seemed pleasant enough. While the sun wasn't at its peak anymore, it still burned uncomfortably and so once they had reached the cliffside path and the sun hid behind the hulking mass of rock, the walk became far more bearable.

"So this place..." Arthur began.

"Irris." Clark muttered.

"Right. Irris. You said we'd get robbed? And that your kind doesn't blend in too well around human towns?"

"Mhm."

"But they have no qualms about getting medical help from Fletcherville?"

"Funny how that works isn't it?" Clark sighed. His dejection at the journey he hoped to avoid becoming more apparent.

With the sea on their left and the road ahead uneventful, Arthur lost himself in his own thoughts for a while. Why couldn't he remember where he was from or how he found himself spitting out sand in the middle of the day? The sea felt...Familiar to him in some strange way and yet he wasn't entirely sure what the feeling meant. If he was a sailor before he certainly couldn't remember how to even steer a ship. If he was a pirate then, well, a sword would certainly be nice to have right now but he could picture himself fumbling around with one and stabbing himself instead.

He didn't realise just how gentle the incline on the path must have been because what started as a walk directly by the waves had led them to a rather precarious fall. While Arthur looked down in mild horror, Clark seemed to cheer up once again.

"There! The Irris Lighthouse."

Arthur could just about make out a tower off in the distance though the forest between them and it made it looked like it was hovering over the water.

"Oh that's not the forest." Clark interjected. "I mean, that is a forest but I mean the lighthouse. A good chunk of Irris stands on the rock that's been undercut by the waves for...Well for some time now. That lighthouse will be the first thing to go if any of it ever falls."

"There's a lower port level too, unfortunately I don't know where Charity Lane is so we're probably going to have to risk asking someone."

While Clark had successfully managed to make him feel uneasy about Irris, Arthur couldn't help but feel a tinge of excitement at the prospect of seeing another human. What if someone recognised him? Maybe he lived in Irris before his memory loss? Clark must've read his mind because Arthur only just caught him rolling his eyes.

"We should camp here." Clark said and perched against a dark green tree. "There's a caravan that arrives at the upper level every day in the evening, along with various other people from the local farms and whatnot. It'll be easier to get in with a crowd but that's not for a couple hours away still."

Arthur sighed and sat by a tree opposite the cricket. A nap sounded good right now.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Clark told Arthur.

“Huh?” Despite being with the cricket for the entire time he could remember, Arthur wasn’t entirely used to his mind reading ability yet.

“If something happens, I can’t really fight. I can jump, and sure that’s fun, but that doesn’t help you at all.”

“Right, thanks.” They settled into a sort of silence after that; Clark was fiddling with a stick while Arthur tried to stay awake.

Losing focus and without much else to talk about, Arthur asked the cricket “so, if this area is so bad, why do you live close to it?” Even lost in his own thoughts earlier, Arthur had noticed the two locations weren’t significantly far away from each other.

“Oh, it’s not like Irris; back home, the Queen keeps us safe.”

“The Queen?”

Clark started drawing a little map with the stick in the dirt. “See, where we are now is by the river, which is the border.” Saying this, he pointed to a loose approximation of the spot they were at. “Later, we’ll go up the river and cross the bridge; then we’ll be on the road near Irris where the caravan will be.” After that, he drew a little arrow in the dirt to illustrate what he just said. “Everything beyond the river is human land. Where we are is bug land, and this land is safe for all of insectkind because of the queen. See, above ground is where people like me, the butterflies, and so on live. Below,” he continued as he poked the dirt with the stick, “is where the queen and her kind live. Tons of ants, all in service to Her Majesty. If there’s trouble up here, they’d help us, and vice versa. And that’s why I can live in Fletcherville; lots of humans might hate us, but in a group, they fear us even more. More importantly, there’s good people there.” This last, the cricket said with his usual enthusiasm.

Arthur smiled and was about to acknowledge that point, but he heard something in the distance. It was...

probably nothing. There were an awful lot of sounds in the air around them after all. Gulls arguing over a washed up crab carcass somewhere in the distance, the wind rushing through the limbs of trees in the nearby forest, the occasional mysterious clicking sound from Clark. Arthur turned his attention back to the giant cricket.

"Wait, so ... has there ever actually been any kind of conflict between the humans and the insects?"

Clark just stared in silence for long moments. Arthur couldn't decide whether he thought Clark was staring at him blankly or deep in thought until finally the large insect spoke. "I mean, not that I can think of but that's probably BECAUSE they're scared of us. The doctor says it's the human 'flight or faint' response that makes people always run away from what they're scared of, or just roll their eyes and go to sleep."

This time Arthur just stared, and it was quite a bit more evident that he was flabbergasted rather than thinking. "I'm pretty sure part of that is 'fight" he finally responded. Clark just chuckled and gave his spindly knee a little slap. "Good one."

Arthur decided not to press the point, peering off again into the distance as the gulls started into their calling again. It seemed a pity to just sit here while they waited when such lush nature lay all around them, but Clark did know this place better, and was probably avoiding the forest for good reason.

It hadn't been long, but the sound of a bell tolling in the distance made Clark perk up a bit and point off into the distance, toward Irris.

"There it is!" Clark exclaimed.

"What?" asked Arthur.

"The bell!" explained Clark.

"... and what does it mean?" continued Arthur.

"That we can get moving soon." Clark's tone was matter-of-fact.

"I thought you said we should camp here ..." Arthur was deeply confused.

Clark chuckled again. "We did, we camped it right here for almost a full hour."

Arthur was still confused, but at least he wouldn't have to fight off boredom anymore. Arthur climbed to his feet, Clark sprang to a stand beside him and both set off up the road.

A sort of anxiety washed over Arthur. The way he'd been treated and his experiences since waking up had been, for lack of a better word, pleasant. Yet he was aware now that based on the information Clark had shared with him and simply with how close they now were to a substantial amount of people, this relative peace might have been at an end.

As they packed up and stretched, Arthur could feel his stomach churn. He wasn't sure if it was just the anxiety or hunger or both but Clark was already nudging him a handing him a leaf to chew on. The scorching sun from before had made way for the moon, or rather two moons, and a chill had begun to roll in. The Amnesiac found himself nearly walking face first into a tree before Clark pulled him out of the way.

"Please be careful." The Cricket lectured.

"But the m-."

"What about them? I know you forgot a lot but surely the two pearls we see in the sky at night isn't something you could just cease to remember?"

"Nevermind." Arthur shrugged. It's not like he could know what was or wasn't 'right' currently and staring into the sky certainly didn't help. What caught his attention next however was the warm orange glow beginning to materialise from behind the trees. Clark had stopped him and, without saying a word, began to guide him in a different direction. He realised they were nearing the road and Clark seemed put off by the sheer amount of torchlight approaching them.

By the time they broke out into a narrow but visible path cutting through the forest the ringing of the bell had become insufferably loud. He could hear Clark attempt to mumble something about one thing or another being 'unusual' but to Arthur everything seemed unusual currently. He understood that they had to reach the path to avoid just fumbling out of the forest into a swathe of people but Clark had evidently entered Irris before so this should've been child's play to him.

As they made their way out of the path and connected with the main road, Arthur finally understood what the caravan was about.

Wagon after wagon made their way past the duo. Each pulled by two antlered creatures with steam rising from their noses as they huffed. It seemed they were feeling the chill too. Prisoners, goods, wheat, all rolling past them with no end in sight. All surrounded by armed guards and travelling on the outer parts of the road was...Everyone else. Drunks, farmers, other travelers. And while the air was busy was the sound of that godforsaken bell and the huffing of the animals pulling the wagons, Arthur could just barely catch hints of conversation here and there. A confusing blend of complaining, laughter and swearing. All largely incomprehensible and yet the sight and sound of other humans brought him comfort. It wasn't until he realised that he was staring at the passers by rather intently and was getting confused and threatening looks in return that he snapped out of it.

Clark, on the other hand, was frozen in place. Arthur quickly noticed that his eyes were following something and yet it didn't appear as though he was looking at any of the humans. Clark's eyes, it turned out, were fixated on one particular prison wagon. He watched in what Arthur could only interpret as horror as an entire wagon with a single prisoner on it rolled past them. An entire wagon for a single prisoner and yet the creatures that pulled it appeared to be struggling. Once he could see the prisoner more clearly, Arthur wasn't entirely sure if he was going to burst out laughing or just pull Clark right back and immediately start heading for Fletcherville again, his memory be damned.

The prisoner slowly disappearing from their sight was...A frog. A frog that, despite sitting down, would already be nearly as tall as Arthur. The prisoner was bound in three separate sets of chains for both his arms and legs and even that seemed more theatrical than practical. His hands looked big enough to crush each chain to dust with minimal effort and it probably wouldn't have taken more than a gentle stretch for the links on the chain that bound his legs to just start popping off one by one. When the prisoner appeared to look directly at him, Arthur felt like his eyes were going to jump out of his head with how quickly he averted his gaze.

"Look uh..." His thoughts escaped him. "We're about to miss our chance, not much of the caravan left." Arthur tapped Clark on the back and waited for a response.

“Y-yeah, you’re right,” Clark responded, motioning for Arthur to follow him to join the caravan. It was clear to the cricket’s traveling companion that Clark much more nervous than he was, despite having done this before. Arthur told himself he’d be brave, even though his nerves were telling him a different story.

As the caravan moved into the city proper, Arthur took the chance to look around and observe what he could see of Irris, being sure to stay on the lookout for Charity Lane. While he hadn’t seen it so far, he had seen enough of the city to figure out that Irris was a place of many contrasts. There were nice neighborhoods with fancy houses for a few people guarded by fancy looking gates a block or two away from slums crammed with many more people than that. There were many people working for an honest living and people committing crimes just far enough away that those honest people could plausibly deny seeing them. And even where Arthur and Clark were now, there were ornate shopping buildings next to run-down market stalls.

The man noticed the caravan was starting to spread out as it got further into Irris. Some of the people were going to the lower part of the city, some were heading to different parts of the market, and others were heading in other directions entirely. The man couldn’t help scanning for the direction where the prisoner wagon was going. He didn’t know where Charity Lane was, but hopefully it was in a different-

DINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONG! The sudden ring of a bell, this one quicker and even louder than the one he heard before, interrupted Arthur’s thoughts. This was immediately followed by distinct, panicked yelling. “The prisoner has escaped! THE PRISONER HAS ESCAPED! ALL UNITS-”

The source of the alert was quickly silenced, presumably by the frog. “We should get out of here,” Clark whispered. Arthur agreed and was about to start running, but the former convict hopped right in front of the pair!

“Prison food is so bland. I think I’d like a little snack,” the frog menacingly said, instantly stretching his tongue out at Clark. The cricket froze in place, expecting the worst, but out of instinct Arthur grabbed the tongue with his hands! He then pulled the appendage like it was a chain attached to a ball, moving the frog’s body so it would slam against a nearby building with significant force.

Only after doing this did Arthur consciously realize that yes, he could fight and yes, he could win. This was surprising to say the least, and the man was definitely still scared of his amphibian opponent, but he knew he would not back down. Arthur took a step in front of Clark and got into a defensive fighting stance, preparing himself for however the frog planned on countering him next.

His hands still sticky with frog spit, Arthur brought his fists up on either side of his head. He wasn't sure how exactly a frog would fight, but however it chose to, the man was at least somewhat certain he could stand his own. The sound metal armour bouncing around innumerable approaching figures filled the street, but they were still a ways off, and the frog was getting up from the ground with an irritated look on his face. Issuing a great croak, he pressed down onto his haunches, preparing to bullfrogrush the pair.

Arthur lowered his stance, prepared to move, to take a hit, prepared for whatever was coming.

"you've got this!" He heard Clark shout.

Why did he sound so far away? Fists still raised, Arthur turned to look back at his companion only to find empty space at his back.

"Up here."

Arthur peered up to the nearby rooftop, seeing Clark, who waved down at him as they made eye contact.

... he really COULD jump.

Distracted by his fleeing companion, Arthur felt something large and damp collide with him. The frog had taken the opportunity to strike. Before he even knew what he was doing, Arthur had seized the large creature by its flabby lower lip and pressed his foot into its stomach. The weight pushed him off his feet, but as he fell onto his back he knew to hold on tight, and as he watched the frog passed over him, propelled into the wall just behind by his foot.

A great rush of air left the frog as he landed on his back against the wall, only to tumble to the dusty ground, frog legs splayed above his head. He looked dazed as Arthur moved quickly back to his feet and put his guard up.

Staring intently, he barely noticed the semi-circle of heavily armoured city guards that had formed behind him. He barely noticed, that is, until each of the dozen or so soldiers lowered their polearms to point the frog in its upturned face.

Lowering his hands, he exchanged a quiet glance with two of the guards at his flank before stepping back to let them recover their prisoner. Glancing back up to Clark, Arthur decided he wouldn't chide the cricket for fleeing. He couldn't even imagine the terror that came with not only being mugged, but on threat of being eaten.

Wiping sweat from his forehead, he quickly remembered his hands were still covered in frog spit, making a deeply disgusted face as Clark landed softly beside him, looking quite pleased.

"I didn't know you could fight! That was amazing, Arthur!" Clark said excitedly, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Yeah ... neither did I. You weren't kidding about being able to jump." Arthur added trying not to sound flat.

"... of course not, I'm a cricket, we take jumping very seriously." Clark said rather factually. Arthur decided not to explain what he meant. He was about to suggest that they move on when one of the guards, his compatriots re-chaining their froggy prisoner, approached and pushed up the visor on his helm.

"Those were some impressive moves, thank you for the assistance sir ..." The guard, a young man with red hair and blue eyes and a wispy beginning of a beard said rather loudly. Arthur offered a flat smile. What had they expected him to do, talk it over with a violent amphibian? "Arthur. It's no problem."

The guard, who had taken to eying up Clark with suspicion, returned to smiling at Arthur. "Well, sir Arthur, if you're looking for work, come see us at the guard office. We could use someone like you." Arthur looked surprised, he hadn't really thought about work, just getting home ... wherever that was.

"I will keep that in mind, thanks ... oh, do you know the way to Charity Lane?" Arthur had no intention of following up, but perhaps the young man could point them in the right direction. The guard paused and turned, a light frown on his face.

"Charity Lane? ... " The guard paused and thought for a moment, only to look like he'd remembered something. "Oh, that's the road up to the lighthouse ... no one calls it that anymore though, we just call it ... well ..." Another pause, this one a little sheepish.

"The road to the lighthouse, heh." The guard rubbed at the back of his neck, having answered their question to the best of his ability. Arthur offered a polite nod and a smile. "Thank you, that's a great help."

A pleasant set of goodbyes were exchanged before the guard went back to dealing with the runaway frog.

Clark, who had overheard everything, offered a little gesture of his head in the direction of the lighthouse.

"Well ... at least we know where we're going now ..." He turned to stare at the tall, lone edifice poking up into the sky.

As Clark and Arthur started walking to the large building they saw a glimmer appear. It had gotten so dark that the lighthouse had started it's nightly job to guide ships and boats to safe havens and prevent any collision. The view was stunning and glorious. The lighthouse beams reached for miles and miles and were so very bright that they could blind anyone looking too long into the direction of the large edifice.
"Have you ever seen such beauty?" Arthur asked Clark, turning his head to the friendly cricket. Clark nodded slowly and seemed to hide something by the way he answered Arthur's eyes. Clark sighed and tried to hide it. Arthur looked at the cricket and wondered what he didn't tell him, but didn't bother to ask him. Yet.

The two men walked through a large street and saw a sign pointing forwards with the letters "PLAZA" on it. Clark and Arthur moved on a sudden curve in the road and when they had walked past it they saw something that Arthur wouldn't have believed if had not seen it with his own eyes. They had reached the a large plaza. The flooring consisted of large stones interspersed with wide fields of grass, and to make Arthur's astonishment even bigger, he became aware of a stream that was large enough to handle a small ship and assist it from one end of the plaza to the other end. There were two drawbridges to let anyone pass the stream, one was for pedestrians and the other seemed to be dedicated to goods. At that second drawbridge was a customs counter and anyone transporting goods was required to cross the stream at that specific drawbridge. Anyone caught smuggling could be thrown into jail without question, or worse, banished for a long while. There was a long line waiting at this drawbridge.

Clark nudged Arthur to look what was on the other side of the drawbridge. Arthur first looked at Clark and saw tears were rolling down his cheeks, then he looked what was at the other side of the stream...

Maybe Arthur's priorities weren't helping him to be a good friend, but the first thing that caught his eye was the meat stall. A roast was slowly turning over a merry fire, and the storefront displayed sausages, sliced ham, and skewers of freshly cooked meat. Arthur's mouth watered, and his stomach rumbled, and it seemed as if he could smell the crispy, savoury goodness, even though that was likely just his imagination.

Leaves that he had earlier were, after all, just leaves, and now his body was reminding him it preferred more serious sustenance.

However, Arthur remembered that neither he nor Clark had the funds to try the food at the stall. Maybe the woman they were looking for—Delia—would tip them for the delivery?..

This wasn't why Arthur had been looking over some passerby's head, though. He belatedly remembered he saw tears in Clark's eyes and felt a bit ashamed to have been so distracted. He looked a bit to the left, scanning the plaza for whatever had caught Clark's eye, and... Oh, wow.

He hadn't noticed it before, with all the commotion and the closest stalls obscuring the view, but the centre of the plaza was decorated with a huge, elaborate fountain. What first caught Arthur's eye was the flickering of colours: the sculpture at the centre was made out of crystal, and the surrounding lights and shapes reflected and diffracted, making up an iridescent display of colours, which in turn made myriads of water droplets glitter. It was captivating.

The fountain was evidently a popular meeting spot: dozens of passersby stopped by it, sitting on the wide marble edges or standing nearby. Groups of friends met up or separated, each invariably stealing a glance at the display of colours.

"Beautiful, right?" Clark asked, hushed, evidently picking up the awe Arthur was feeling. He nodded, transfixed.

"Want to know what it's meant to symbolize?" the cricket continued, enthusiastic but obviously trying to be polite. Arthur smiled: he wouldn't have pegged Clark for a fine arts aficionado.

Arthur's eyes remained fixated on the intricately crafted fountain while Clark cleared his throat.

"Well, believe it or not, a long time ago now there was genuine peace between your people and mine.' He began.

"Irris may not be the capital, but it was the site of one of the most horrible battles of the last war. So when the war ended, the Lord at the time brought together the best craftsmen he could find, human and insect alike."

Clark could tell that Arthur was listening to him intently but he also sensed that his mind was wondering a little towards something else.

"Ants, termites, men from the mountains and men from the other side of the sea, even bees...Some twenty craftsmen, all technically just for a fountain but it meant much more than that. It was a symbol of unity in more ways than one, a true end of the war..." The Cricket wasn't quite sure at what point his tears of awe turned into full on crying but he tried his best to hide it from Arthur.

Arthur struggled to find the words to respond. He listened to Clark speak of something beautiful and he could see it in front of his eyes and yet his words oozed pain as if an old wound had reopened itself.

"Hey, the fountain is still here. People haven't forgotten. One too many need a scapegoat for their problems though." Arthur felt a pang in his stomach. A mix of worry for his friend, adrenaline from his earlier fight wearing off and hunger...

"Yeah, let's hope they find better ways of solving them this time around though." Clark had cleared his eyes and noticed the meat stall that Arthur was eyeing up previously.

"Let's get to Delia, shall we? We'll get you something more to eat than leaves if she pays us, I don't want you passing out on me and believe me I do not have the strength to drag you around."

Arthur agreed with Clark. “Right. We just need to find 813 on this road and we’ll be good.”

“813?” Both man and cricket turned to the source of the noise. It was a nearby older man with a rough gray beard and even worse looking clothes. From the looks of things, the guy was probably homeless and had just finished drinking some water from the fountain. “I know where that is, but you’ll have to pay me.”

“We don’t have any gold, sorry” was Arthur’s response.

“Well damn you and your bug.” He said this last word with obvious disdain and anger. “You’ll be looking for that casino forever, then.”

Arthur put a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder, thinking this guy isn’t worth it. Let’s go to this casino. Clark nodded in agreeance.

It turned out that the Golden Eye Casino was actually really close to where they were, so it was easy to find. It was a massive building, oval in shape and made out of bricks that were painted gold. The entrance was an open archway with Romanesque columns on each side; on the top of the arch was the words “Golden Eye Casino.” Below those was the address “813 Charity Lane,” confirming that the two had found the right place.

The inside of it was less grand; the bricks in there weren’t even painted and the place seemed to be one big room, filled to the brim with assorted games of chance. Card games, roulette, and more were being played by people with and without gold to spare. There was an open circular window in the direct middle of the place, providing sunlight and a way for the smoke of people’s cigarettes to escape the building.

By the entrance, there was a bored-looking man in a Golden Eye Casino uniform who appeared to be some kind of guard, judging from the door behind him. Clark seemed to examine him for a second, then nudged Arthur to get him to talk to the man.

“Excuse me sir,” Arthur asked the bored man, “Would you happen to know where Delia Toujours is?”

The guardsman looked wary of them both for once, not just Clark. “What do you want from her?”

“We have a delivery for her.” Saying this, Arthur held up the jar of red powder he got from the doctor.

The guard’s face changed instantly, suddenly becoming far more friendly and polite. “Oh! Sure. Go through the door and up the stairs, then talk to the secretary. Their desk will be the first one you see.” He then opened the door so the pair could enter.

“Thank you,” Arthur replied as he and Clark did the first two parts of what the man said. At the top was a sparse waiting room with a few chairs and an older looking woman. Arthur walked up to her and asked the same question he asked the guard, this time holding up the jar to save a bit of time.

“Oh, I can give that to her. Off you go.” Her attitude appeared to be quite in line with the guard’s initial one. Before Arthur could give the jar to her, Clark held his hand in front of it.

“No thank you,” the cricket said, “we’d be glad to do it ourselves.” Clark simply stared at the clerical worker, letting time win his case for him.

After waiting what felt to Arthur like minutes, the lady assented. “Fine. Her office is in the back, last door on the right.”

Clark thanked her, then both of them walked towards the office. “Why’d you ask to do this yourself?” Arthur whispered.

“So we can maybe get some money for your food, plus that lady would’ve stolen some of it,” the cricket responded equally quietly.

Arthur nodded. As they were about to knock on Delia’s door, he heard a voice on the other side. “Come in.” The pair looked at one another, shrugged, then opened the door and walked in.

Delia’s office was significantly nicer than the lobby before it. She had a nice wooden desk with matching shelves, along with big picture windows that presented a nice view of the city. Delia herself was a slender woman in her mid-30s with long, dark red hair. She wore a formal red dress that matched her hair. In an instant, anyone looking at this woman would know she was more sophisticated than most of the people in the casino.

“Please close the door behind you,” she asked of Clark, “and hand me the jar please” she asked Arthur. Both of them complied with these requests, then sat down.

A moment later, the woman said “you’re right, it usually isn’t this full. Thank you.”

Both men were visibly surprised, so Delia took it upon herself to explain. “I have good hearing.” Arthur was still perplexed, but Clark nodded as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world.

“Wait a minute,” the woman just realized, being as surprised as Arthur was, “you’re the guy who fought the frog, right? Yeah, not many people travel with crickets around here.”

Seeing that the pair’s expressions were as surprised as they were a few moments ago, Delia explained again. “I was able to found this place” she waved her hand around the room to indicate the building “by being well informed, so I like to stay that way. This also includes knowing you need money for food. Would you two be interested in work?”

Arthur didn’t know what else to say, so he just asked “what kind of work?”

“I need two bodyguards for a meeting tomorrow. My usual people are on vacation, so I need trustworthy individuals for this.”

“And you trust us, even though we only met just now?”

“Well, Doctor Smith sent you, so yeah. It will only take a few hours and I’ll pay you well - 25 gold each, with 5 gold each paid up front.”

Once again, Clark seemed to be much more accepting of the logic than Arthur was. The amnesiac had to wonder just how this business leader and the doctor knew each other. He also had to wonder what kind of meeting this was that required this lady to have bodyguards. But he didn’t have to wonder whether or not he wanted to do this; in this case, the reward was worth the risk, and if things got too sketchy he could protect his friend while they left. “I’ll do it.”

The cricket wasn’t interested in this sort of work, but he also knew Arthur had no money and knew this woman wanted two bodyguards. If he refused this job, his friend could be out of work as well. “Same here.”

“Splendid! Be here at 8 AM tomorrow. Thank you so much, that will be all!”