"Hear... hick.. ye, hear ye!" The town crier half slurred, half shouted from the rooftop of the courthouse.

It was a busy market day and his antics had started drawing a crowd myself among them. It had grown so busy that the watch had formed a half hearted cordon around the courthouse.

I could see he was drunker than a lord as he clung to the weather vane twisting it this way and that as he bobbed and weaved like a piece of driftwood on the waves, a bottle of Rovandil's finest in his hand.

Well did I know the effects of that powerful concoction as I had nursed many a sore head after a night at the Shady Pig drinking that brew.

"I have the great plsure... plasul..." His tongue tripped over the word over and over until he managed to croak it out

"Pleasure! Hah! Pleasure to announce that that our lord and master Duke Raziel Ale... wait no that's not it. Alexander Jules. No. Julii... maybe. Yeah it'll do." He let out a large belch and stumbled over his own feet as he tried to straighten himself, wrapping his arms around the metal cat, swinging slightly. "Now where was I?"

"The peace!" A voice from the crowd shouted.

"Ah yes. Peace, peace, peace, peace, peace. Ah yes! Exactly! Our lord and King Dragor of Nirath, long may he reign, have made peace!"

As I stood among the crowd, a sense of overwhelming relief swept through us as people cheered and hugged. Some with tears in their eyes. I admit I felt it as well. The prospect of war had frightened me.

Imagine a scholar such as myself riding to war on a donkey armed with quill and armored by a straw hat? I suppose the sheer absurdity might have stopped a warrior in his tracks but only for a moment before he gutted me; him laughing as I go to my grave.

"Peace!" The town crier repeated spreading out his arms and sloshing his bottle.

"We have peace! Hear ye, hear ye! Pea..."

His footing slipped again off the tile roof and as he slammed his arms against the iron arms to keep from falling the bottle fell from his hands. It rolled down the roof and smashed with a sound loud enough to make a glassblower cry.

"Oh gods, I think I'm going to be sick..." The man shouted. "Help me! Someone. Help!"

"Get down from there!" One of the town elders shouted up at him. "Get your drunk ass down here or I'll tan your hide!"

"I can't!" Was the response from above. "I'm stuck!"

The crowd laughed and so did I. The sight was comical as the town crier scrabbled to find his footing as the weather vane moved with him. For a sober man it would've been easy but for the drunkard it was impossible.

"Someone get that fool down from there!" The elder railed at the crowd. "You!" He pointed to a well formed man in the crowd. "You climb up there and get him down!"

"I've not got a head for heights." He responded.

They started arguing and as I turned to look one man caught my eye. He'd parted from the crowd and was walking up to the corner of the courthouse. When he reached that stone edifice he proceed to test out the wall with his hands. He nodded to himself then started taking off his boots.

I looked on in confusion and wonder as the man started climbing using his hands and feet, wedging them into the tiny cracks and crevices. It was quite the sight, let me tell you. He reminded me more of those squat hairy men sailor's told tales of, that lived in far off places swinging from tree to tree.

He reached the top quickly and balanced along the roof with easy movements as graceful as a predatory cat. The town crier meanwhile was still trying to find his footing and as the stranger reached him, he'd just sent the vane into another half spin.

He helped the man up, steadying him. He then proceeded to hold the man's hand as he went to the other side of the roof. I could see why. It was a balancing act as the drunkard swayed with every step and the man compensated with his own movements. They reached the bell tower without incident and the stranger heaved the town crier into the opening. I assume that was how our drunkard had actually attained this height. However one more thing did happen.

All that movement must've upset our poor town crier for he re-emerged into the bell tower opening, head over the banister he proceeded to vomit, eliciting shouts of disgust and laughter from the onlookers.

The stranger took a bow and we applauded as he flashed a quick grin before disappearing into the bell tower as well.

I did not see him again and although I did keep my eyes on his boots but when a passing beauty came into view I was distracted for a mere second. That was all it took, as when I looked back, the boots were gone.

Who was he? I asked myself but I suppose an answer will never be forthcoming. Travelling on the roads of Elyria does lead to strange and curious encounters with the most eccentric of characters.

So while the man made me curious, I have met stranger in my travels.

The spectacle over, the crowd began to disperse back to their day to day lives, a spring in their step.

I was gladdened by these tidings as well, but I remembered that war could still loom on the horizon. No news as yet of Zygethia and though that land had recently experienced it's fair share of troubles, it was still a land to be reckoned with.

But those were troubles for another day. Worries I do not need to record now. Today was a good day. Peace and a show. Now all that was missing was dinner.

Perhaps I should feed Tyrant something special. I do sometimes wonder, what do donkeys consider a delicacy?

That question occupied me as I headed towards the nearest restaurant offering Ruathani specialties.