The year was 13.. in a town in Germany not called Köln or München but little known, Ellendorf.
The page (the pawn, that is) was a sad man, crestfallen and schizoid (introverted). One fresh new morning he accidentally discovered a pair of scissors that he had lost long ago doing manual work for the employer. Well, these scissors produced sparks from the rust they had collected as the page noticed and as he verified later were able to cut the immaterial, including the shadows.
It was still morning when he set forth to try them out in the town-village, which he affectionately called the Big Ranch. It was a few hours thinking what to cut. When he began cutting shadows of plants and objects, he watched how once they falled off the edge of his scissors they disintegrated to appear no more. Later it came to him, he could use a barrel shaped as a drum all wrapped in a black cloth to keep the shadows in, protected from light. Much more later and after thinking about it seriously over and over (see, our page was a very insecure guy) as if by magic, pushing him away from his reverie, a strong sense of boldness pervaded him and moved by a tremendous yearning that even tickled the base of his stomach, he dared to approach and crouch beside a countryman who was negotiating with a merchant.
His bucket-drum was full of shadows belonging to handsome and virile men sooner than he could imagine. Having a couple of knives so intelligent could lure the confidence to do what he wanted. For him, a type of confidence never ever felt. It was like having a magic potion with which one would feel omnipotent, able to achieve your goals without seeing any physical obstacle, much less mental.