In my second year, when I had overcome the winter and embraced the spring, I had made a habit of taking walks in the small forest just outside Bivo. Considering my physical condition, these walks weren't very long, but they managed to bring me some relief. The villagers looked at me as if I were crazy; I knew that most of them preferred to see me sitting on my veranda reading a book at this age. That was a part of village life: people were so pure-minded that they took responsibility for the well-being of others.
One day, while I was on one of these short walks, someone said, "You should stop doing this now, sir."
I was passing by the stone fountain in the village square. The voice belonged to a young and strong lad. He had leaned his lower back against the limits of the fountain, his arms folded across his chest. His short blond hair was shining under the sun, and his brown eyes were burning with the energy of youth.
I had countless guesses in my mind about where this conversation could lead. I was curious which one of my predictions would prove correct.
"What should I stop, young man?" I asked politely. "I see you've been observing me going to the forest every day."
"It is walking, sir," he said politely. "I've noticed that you go to the forest every day."
"What a great kindness to be observing me."
I walked toward the young man. My steps were slow and unsteady. In the past, I would have stood tall, confronting him and looking directly into his eyes. But now, the sight was pitiful. I wasn't as tall as before, and I had a slight hunch. My bulky muscles had melted away, and my thick hair had mostly fallen out except for the sides. My long white beard wouldn't be enough to intimidate him, that was clear. When I reached him, I realized that I only came up to his shoulders. The truth often hurt.
"You know this is a very small village. It's our custom to take care of each other here."
"True," I nodded, agreeing. "You might be surprised, but I know a lot about Bivo."
"I have no doubt about your experience, sir," he said, lowering his arms from his chest and gently letting them rest on either side of his body. "I absolutely don't want you to misunderstand what I'm about to say."
"I won't misunderstand what you're about to say."
"In that case, I want you to know that it would make me very happy to accompany you on your walks."
"There doesn't seem to be anything to misunderstand in your request," I said with a smile. I immediately warmed up to him.
"I assume you accept."
"I do, I do," I said, starting to walk slowly. "How should I address you, young lad?"
"Rio, please," he said. "And how should I address you?"
"You can call me Arles."
"Very well, Mr. Arles," Rio said, "I'll do my best to keep up with your pace."
We walked together into the forest. Occasionally, Rio would link his arm with mine and help me navigate the small pits and inclines. After a fifteen-minute walk through the woods, we stopped beneath a tree that could be considered quite large.
"You're a very kind young man," I said, touching his shoulder. "I've seen many educated people who lack your kindness."
"Thank you, sir," he maintained his politeness.
"What does your family do for a living?"
"They are farmers, sir. They work in Bivo's fields, mainly planting wheat and barley. They sell their produce to the horse farms, to wealthy horse owners."
"I noticed that you don't take their occupation upon yourself."
"To be honest, I don't see myself as a farmer in the future."
"Then tell me, what will you be doing in the future?"
"It's hard to say exactly, sir. I know I won't be a farmer. And I won't be the same person I am now either. My goal for the future is about change."
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen, sir."
"At seventeen, you possess the language of a wise fifty-year-old man. That's remarkable."
"Thank you, Mr. Arles."
"All right, does your family know about your plans for the future? Do they know that you won't continue the profession?"
"My mother knows," Rio said, slightly bowing his head. "But my father doesn't. He is traditional and sees farming not just as a profession but as an inheritance. My grandfather was a farmer, and his father before him. It goes on like that. So when he learns that I don't want to be a farmer, he won't take it as well as my mother does. Also, I don't have any siblings. That adds to the pressure on me."
"It's not right to pass judgment without knowing, Rio. Right now, you're here with me, aren't you? If your father had as much influence on you as you think, he would definitely keep a strong young lad like you working by his side."
Rio lifted his head, and for a moment, I caught a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
"You may be right, sir."
"Well then, while understanding your lack of interest in farming, I'm curious about what you intend to do instead. Don't feel like I'm interrogating you. I'm simply trying to get to know my young friend who doesn't leave me alone in the forest."
"I don't misunderstand what you're saying, sir," he replied, returning my sentence. "As I mentioned before, my mother is different from my father. She is moderate and grateful for farming because it puts bread on our table. When I was a little child, she would often read books to me—tales of the island and beyond. The empire, the Six Knight Rebellion, the legendary Lotus Knights. As I turned the pages and heard the enchanting words from her lips, I would feel an exhilaration warming my young heart, an indescribable hunger. It was a hunger for writing and reading. My mother must have noticed that, for she started teaching me how to read and write as soon as she deemed me old enough. You know that in villages, that's considered a luxury. I admit that I was a very fortunate child in that regard."
"That's wonderful, my child, truly wonderful," I exclaimed with enthusiasm. Rio's words and ideals resonated with me. I saw a part of myself in him.
"Have you ever considered joining an academy?" I asked. "I have no doubt that your mother would fully support it, and now might be the perfect time."
At that moment, Rio was searching around the trunk of the tree we stood beneath.
"I don't know, sir," he replied in a slightly subdued voice. "I must admit that I've never really thought about it. Although I can read and write, I know very little about academy life. I've never been to the capital. My life has never extended beyond a few inches beyond Bivo. So, I'm unaware of how things work there. Besides," he paused, then continued, "I believe that academies are more for children of wealthy families. As you can see, we have to work in the scorching sun in the fields just to put bread on our table."
"If it will change your mind, I can tell you that I know a few influential people who could help you in this matter."
"Rowalan Academy," he proudly said, but the expression quickly faded. His face turned dull again.
"I don't know, sir. Even if my mother agrees, would my father?"
"Well, we won't find out the answer by sitting here pondering. If you wish, I can speak on your behalf. I have a talent for persuasion."
"I can see that, sir. And I have a question too. If your influence extends all the way to Rowalan Academy, then you must be quite capable. What were you doing before coming to Bivo?"
Now it was my turn to answer questions. I wanted to tell him that every muscle in my body urged me to say, "I am one of the greatest historians that history has ever witnessed." But our relationship was so natural and warm that it would be an insult to break that by saying such things.
"I was living in Rowalan. I owned and operated a rather large bookstore there."
"A bookstore? In Rowalan?"
"You don't believe me?"
"No, no! Of course, I believe you, sir. It's just... you see, for me, it's no different from a dream. I'm seventeen years old, and the only thing I've seen is Bivo. Not to mention the grand city of Rowalan, even any building in that city would be enough to impress me."
"Well, if you had seen my bookstore, I'm sure you would have been greatly impressed. It was a place fitting for a young man like yourself, hungry for knowledge and adventure. There were hundreds of unread books on dusty shelves."
"That sounds incredible, sir. Even you telling me all this is fueling my thirst for discovery and increasing my hunger. As you said, I wish I could have been there."
"For now, you may not be able to be there," I said with a smile. "But I can make you feel like you're there, at least a little. When I moved here, I brought some of my most valuable books to my study. I've created a small library in the corner of my room, you could say. I may not have hundreds of books anymore, but there are dozens waiting on the shelves for you to read. Whenever you'd like, come over. My door is always open to you."
"This invitation is an honor for me, sir. You can't imagine how wholeheartedly I desire this," Rio said, kneeling down and sweeping away the shrubs with his hands. From beneath the bushes, he retrieved a piece of wood, about one and a half meters long. "In response to your invitation, I should offer you a pouch of gold or maybe even more. But for now, all I have is this. You can use this stick as a walking cane. It's quite flexible and sturdy."
Until that day, I had received many gifts. Ceramic vases, jewelry adorned with precious stones, elegant swords crafted by skilled blacksmiths. Yet, none of them made me feel as warm as the wooden stick that Rio was offering me.