"Hey, now. Quit your pushing!" yelled the the chained Deles to his guard. He, like a few of the scholars gathered at the docks, were not here of their own volition. His gaze had settled on a poor man who was shaking and muttering something about water. [i]Poor sod,[/i] the Traveler thought to himself.

Deles had heard of the Mad King's rounding of great minds some time ago; while flattered that he was one among many to be considered, he wasn't so pleased to be cattled about as he was. Had he wished to stay trapped in a single place, he would have spent the rest of his days with the Ulloy monks, not wandering about as joyously as he had been.

Still, there was one thing that had been ascertained in his travels; the world was dying, so much was obvious even to the most uneducated of peasants. Yet their king was busy collecting great minds like they were pieces of art; not much of worth except to tell their myriad tales. Great leaders should be quelling their peoples' fears, not callously hoarding the current world's information. Or so the man believed.

Deles knew he should have avoided this country; his last visit had played out just as terribly, yet was probably the exact reason as to why he was known. However, this was an unprecedented chance to gather vast swaths of knowledge in a microscopical amount of time, as well as to share what he knew with fellow scholars; even if they weren't his preferred audience.  

The Traveler sighed in resignation as he was pushed forward once more. It seemed fate had a cruel sense of humor to the man.