The Way teller
The next morning we set out to war. Like in the novel, Viktora divided her army into three parts. One goes east, one south, and the other remains in Fen castle city. I wanted to go east, or not participate in the war altogether, but Viktora wanted me south and my mother east so there was nothing I could do. I was not happy with her decision of course, as the opportunity I wanted to claim was in the Heroes grave, yet I obeyed all the same. Soon that evil forest will get less scary with both armies clashing in it and that will be a perfect time for a grave robbery.
Anyway at the moment Viktora has departed to the V'alkre-Crystalis border with the Eye of winter were she intends to raise the winter walls to prevent the Crystalis troops from crossing the border. In the novel after realizing the border to V'alkre is sealed, king Alford will send the Crystalis soldiers through Sentient pass (Heroes grave), through the high passes and straight into Fen castle's backyard. At least that was the plan but Viktora had predicted that and split out a detached force from the force in the east and some from the ones left in the city, in the right time, so the Crystalis soldiers were pincered in the forest. Crystalis had lost that battle but Jack Highvoid had made it right later on. Well that's story for another day.
Back to the main topic; I say we left for war, but the group I left with, while true soldiers yes, looked nothing like an army. The thing is they were too few in numbers, only a hundred and twenty something. But we'd meet with more troops in Wali, lord Natt's feif to bolster our force though.
It was a well oiled group and I stuck out not only because of my inexperience and youth but because I was the only one in the party not wearing armor. I just traveled in my coat among men dressed like elite samurais.
It took us two weeks to reach Wali, as the road was terrible. It highlighted the difference between V'alkre and Crystalis as all highways are maintained in the latter, while here nobles were more greedier even though more religious. In that time I had become friends with most of my companions. I'd never thought I could blend with these kind of people, but years of preparing for this time made it smoother. Though in all honestly, I hadn't plotted to gain their friendship and respect or anything. I had wanted it desperately yes, but it came naturally in the end.
When Viktora told Natt and his men that I'd be going with them south to learn a thing or two about war, they had looked at me with that resigned helplessness of dealing with someone they know will be a burden but had no choice to refuse. Like baby sitting the boss' child. I got the chance to make a good impression on them when we stopped for the night the first day though, but like I said, it was all coincidental.
The place we stopped that night was a rocky place basic for the southern parts of V'alkre because there share a border with the Rag plains. I found a sparse leafed crocked old tree and sat against it with my bag beside me. Then pulled out a dozen colored balls out of my coat's inner pocket and started juggling them. I was thinking of my life as I did that, how I ended up here, and everything that happened after my reincarnation; mother, Celestine, Viktora, the Highvoids; and what would or might happen, and how to use it all to my advantage. With what I was thinking you might understand why my joggling became more aggressive.
I was throwing around the balls in a blur and hadn't noticed that I had gathered an audience until someone cheered. I paused and turned to see the soldier's were all staring at me. The balls fell one by one and I plucked each one from the air absentmindedly, pocketing them back into my pocket. It was an awkward moment. But not totally unexpected as I thought of it, after all in a time lacking entertainment these kind of things were wonders to behold. Where you have to pay to see a Way teller perform.
So the next day as we set camp again Florence, one of the soldiers approached me. He was a slender middle aged man, with greasy long brown hair and mustache. His eyes were gray and honest. "Young master," he bowed, his helmet tucked under his armpit. "Can I sit?" He gestured at the space before me. I couldn't find a tree in the rocky plain but a giant rock did just fine for a backrest. I nodded absentmindedly just interested in writing in my book.
The soldier smiled though and sat with his legs folded, then he continued talking. "My name is Florence Feirciers, the lieutenant commander of the southern forces in this war and the viscount of Hais,"
"My honor," I replied closing the book, "what is it you wanted.... Lord Feirciers?"
"Ah, it's embarrassing but are you perhaps a Way teller?"
I fell in thought. What are Way tellers in this world, you ask? Way tellers are those learned in poetry, politics, music, and entertainment. "I guess I am," I nodded.
"Ah, can you show us a trick or story? The soldiers could use a lift of spirit on the journey,"
"Now? Sure, I'll be up in a minute,"
Florence thanked me and left. I fished into my coat and took out a flute the fell I'm thought. Since I reincarnated I have been learning some skills, useful skill or redundantly seeming ones like Way telling. Time to use them, I guess.
It was after diner that I did it, the soldiers were waiting for me around the fire. I sat before the camp fire atop a rock and held up my flute. All eyes were on me. The beginning of a story is the most important. You must take it boldly yet delicately; ambitiously yet focused; enjoyable yet relatable. "Jazar the Windgone," I started almost in a whisper but with my Way telling skill I was sure everyone heard me, I continued. "Jazar the Hero, the casted, call him what you will.... Was killed by the gods and stained the ink sea with his blood, and dried the plains with his voice. I call this story the Curser, because there's power in names," then I blew my flute, a tragic asian tone I heard in my former life played in the air.
I had the camp under my power. Everyone was silent, I commanded the noise, the rate of their breathing, and the silence just with my story and no powers what so ever. I went on. "Some say Jazar was one of the gods, others said he was a beyonder giving aid; those ones believe the king of skies and winds, one of his many tittles, was just an adopted devil at best. But a devil adopted by the gods? Hail Crystalis are real pagans!" I said lightly and everyone laughed.
I blew my flute briefly then went on again. "Yet others said he was man like you and me. Better brace yourself as this is no story told without tears." I blew the flute then started the story in full swing and tempo, when the sad song of the flute was still hanging in the air. "50 thousand years ago and twice over, Jazar descended to Aliye, a god looking for direction. A glaring contrast, which demands the question that could, or should we men worship a one that seeks guidance from another? Should we not instead worship an omnipotent all knowing God?
"Are the gods our creators or a they themselves created? Is every question a man asks himself day by day. Jazar was asked the same question by Sain so he came to Aliye to have perspective. Though why we'll never know."
I took out two balls, one red and one green and started joggling them my voice rising fiercely. "At that time Aliye was in war by the Twice-men and the Not-men; ancestor races of humans and dwarves. Jazar stared as these primitive people went on and on in their wars for days confused by them. Wars were common among the gods of Oa but the king of skies did not understand what was worth fighting for in this backward realm... Oil, salt, a healthy maiden?...."
By the time I finished my story each of my audience were crying. For grief and lost, and what should have been. And that's unlike men going to war that should be laughing and cheering. And I plead guilty for I chose the wrong story. Still it was the only story I wanted to tell that night.
Three days later we got those laughs and cheers we deserved. In Prein, a town we stayed for two days before moving on. There we gathered more soldiers, drank, sang and cried. As such we were ready for war when we reached Wali. And war was ready for us.
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