A small group of children gathered around a frivolously dressed old man sitting atop a pile of wooden crates. His hunched height made him level with some of the taller children. His long, graying hair tied loosely in a ponytail, his robes were a dulled purple. At his side hung a wooden lyre.
He thought for a bit before beginning to speak. A smooth and deep voice came from his mouth.
"The Provocoelum clan. One of the world's most powerful and oppressive families across the twelve continents and nine oceans. An arrogant name to match with its clan members' arrogant natures. Their enterprise grew from managing trade to include manufacturing weapons and controlling banks and land. They went from a small family to one with many side branches. They ruled the Serpens and the Piscis continents as its sovereign within a few centuries' worths of time.
"However," the bard took a suspenseful pause, as the children leaned in closer, "their glory was shortlived. Outsiders were frightened by their might, and so, banded together to end their reign.
"It was as if a tiny serpent transformed into a majestic dragon, only to fall back into the depths of high hell. They grew too fast, and their feathered wings could not lift them off the ground.
"Few of the main family descendants survived, and even fewer made it to old age. They were hunted down by the countless enemies the Provocoelum family had gained throughout their continental conquests.
"Interestingly," he said, "there is nothing absolute in the world. Hunting down all traces of the Provocoelum bloodline was impossible, and a comeback was inevitable. They were just biding their time and slowly accumulating their power once more.
"Not long after their fall, around two decades later, they returned. They forcefully united the world against them once again, only this time, they were the victors. The Provocoelum clan ruled the world.
"They brought prosperity by unifying the world. Strict laws lowered crime rates, and standardized currency allowed global trade with ease.
"That was until they suddenly disappeared. Gone, without a trace. Everything about them disappeared from the world - buildings, writings, and all the clan members from the main family bloodline.
"Some say it was a devil's contract that one descendant signed for revenge; to reclaim the glory that was rightfully theirs. Their whole family would owe their souls to the Trader's vicious experiments.
"Others say they left the Caeliqua plane and traveled up," he pointed to the sky, "to claim the narrow heavens as their own."
The bard stopped, allowing the young audience to daydream. A few of the slightly older boys looked to be in deep thought, however deep children think, their eyes closed and their knees bouncing up and down. The younger boys bobbed their heads as if they understood and followed along with the story closely. Two girls sitting on the ground seemed disinterested, staring off at the town square.
Their parents had told them that, under no circumstances, were they allowed to venture too close to the town center.
The bard sighed. There was an execution happening that approaching evening. The blades would sink with the sun, the heads falling when the world became blanketed by darkness. With fate, no souls would return to haunt the townsfolk.