"The Abu Tribe has fallen! We are safe! No more humans shall be eaten from those heartless cannibals!" An old fortune-teller man with white beard declared. He had a faded red and poor patterned bandana on his bald head. The piece of clothing that served as his cloak wrapping around him was no different than that the color of ashes. It used to be a brown cloak that turned into a rag. The old man was the most known fortune-teller in the area. People in the lowlife believed in his words and prophecies.

"We'll no longer be food?!" a little girl dressed the same with the old man asked. Grasping the edge of the table, the girl never forgets to come to the old man's table to see his 'magical powers'.

"Mr. Fortune-teller! Who was the hero that saved all of us?! Do you think I will meet him someday?! Will there really be no more man-eating humans in the future? Do you think I can meet a noble from behind that wall?! Tell me! Tell me!" The little girl hopped with joy while pointing her tiny index finger towards the black wall. The old man touched his belly and rubbed his palm in a circular motion against it. It was his way of avoiding to answer questions for free, he was poor and homeless, except for the narrow space he had where his table stands, he had nothing to own. He uses his foreseeing ability to earn anything from his customers, he prioritized food more than anything else.

"What do you have there with you in exchange for one question?" the old man asked. Be it adults or kids, he never was considerate. The little girl pulled something from her chest pocket and offered her dry bread.

"This is my lunch, you can have it" the little girl said. The old man grabbed it in one swift and had a bite. The little girl could hear the soft cracking sound of her bread inside the old man's mouth. For people like them, soft bread and hard bread didn't matter. As long as it is food, all kinds taste good.

"Which question do you want me to answer?" the old man asked after finishing 'his' bread. The little girl had a hard time thinking about which question she should choose. She thought of the most important question which she believed would be the most beneficial for her.

"Hmmm, who was the hero that saved all of us?" the little girl asked. She moved closer to the old man's table, letting her chest hitting the edge of the weak looking furniture. The fortune-teller smiled and said: "You are a smart kid."

"During the bloody period that lasted for more than 700 days, two young men were brave enough to fight against the whole Abu tribe. It was said that one of them had the ability to summon and tame the scary mythical creatures." the old man started talking. When he starts talking, he never stops until he is satisfied. For a person who loves to hear wondrous stories like the little girl, giving a piece of bread wouldn't be too wasteful.

"The other noble young fighters who were present at that moment said that they heard a music. It was a spirited music created by a combination of panpipe and harp." the old man said. The little girl almost forgot to blink because she enjoyed the story very much. With her mouth agape, she waited for the fortune-teller to continue the story. The old man yawned and cleared his throat. He lifted one side of his butt and farted which made a disgusting sound.

"I forgot the whole details of the story, I'm getting old, you know. Plus, I'm a hungry man, maybe I could tell you about the rest of the story next time. The bread was good, indeed." the fortune-teller said. The little girl pouted and crossed her tiny arms across her chest.

"I'll bring a lot of bread next time!" the little girl said as if it was a promise she should fulfill. She walked away and left the old man, still sitting on his cranky chair.

"Whoever that hero was, he brought hope and life to the people in the district." the old man said and shuffled his old tarot cards. One card suddenly slipped away from the pile and fell on the muddy ground. A man wearing a brown hooded cloak happened to passed by and noticed the card on the ground, covered with mud. He picked it up and a black bracelet with a silver, small harp pendant attached on it showed under his sleeve as he lifted it slightly. The old man left astounded with the thing's beauty and cleared his throat. He offered his hand and gestured the man to return his card. The hooded man gave the card back to the fortune-teller, giving the old man a mysterious vibe.

"That music was created by deep affection and courage." The cloaked man said and walked away. The old man looked at the card and gasped: it was The Magician's card.

Whether who that hooded guy was, or whether the fortune-teller was a fake, or who was the hero that saved all of them, one had no idea.

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©The Bathala's Forbidden Vessel

Creator: Arl Hesse