…
The round moon rose from the mountain peaks, climbing over forests and valleys, turning the dark night sky into a deep indigo. Dancing flames rose from the massive bonfire in the center of the open field, with large logs burning brightly in a red glow. Countless sparks flew into the dark night, disappearing into the endless void.
In the lively and joyful atmosphere, the bard's chanting, accompanied by the sweet sound of a hand drum, floated above the bonfire.
"I have many stories to tell you all,
But you must shut your noisy mouths and sit up straight.
You can shout out which story you'd like to hear,
My ears are a little deaf, I can't hear the sound of mosquitoes…"
"Adventure!" A child shouted loudly.
"The war with the beasts!" Another child shouted even louder.
"Magic and alchemy!" Skinny Stick, receiving a signal from Udo, shouted out as well.
Laughter erupted from the crowd. For a small, remote border territory like the Spearhead Valley, the joy that the traveling bards brought every year when they arrived with merchant caravans was perhaps even more valuable than the goods being traded.
Bards are typically quite old, meaning they have experienced things that most others could never imagine. They may have traveled to the Northern Mountain Ranges to see terrifying beasts, or endured the raging seas of the Endless Ocean, or witnessed a volcanic eruption, or experienced exotic landscapes in foreign lands. This is natural, because if the bard's stories were familiar to the crowd, they would quickly lose their appeal.
The bard of the night had pale hair, and his thick beard matched it. His face was like a hillside washed by rain, with countless wrinkles left by time. The smoking pipe he held was old, its original color barely visible. His gray-black animal-skin cloak enveloped him, not for mystery, but so he could occasionally pull out dried meat, small wooden figurines, or sweet sugar candies from the shadows.
Children loved such tricks.
Hearing the lively responses, the bard laughed and continued to chant.
"Oh, my dear little ones,
I can already feel your enthusiasm.
There are many stories you wish to hear, one by one,
For this night is long and peaceful.
There are too many adventure tales, I could spend ten days telling them,
But I'll tell you about the places I've been,
For example, a dangerous journey,
Where terrifying giant-toothed beasts roamed, and unknown mud pits awaited.
Do you know where that place is?"
The bard paused deliberately.
"The Swamp! The Crow Swamp!" Sure enough, a girl's voice rang out from the crowd.
"Correct, my clever girl." The bard waved his hand and pulled a bunch of wildflowers out of his cloak, tossing them to the girl.
Applause and shrieks of excitement erupted from the crowd.
Kent clapped along as well, noticing Udo. He smiled and nodded at her, a casual greeting.
Udo, once proud and smug, suddenly noticed Kent's gaze and his clapping. Her body froze, and her face turned bright red. After a while, she bowed deeply and then sat down quickly, hiding deep among the crowd.
But no one paid attention to this detail, as everyone was absorbed in the bard's chanting.
"Today, I won't be telling you about the swamp,
Those tales are old and boring, and you might not enjoy them."
"Tell us! Tell us!" the crowd responded eagerly.
"Well, then let me tell you about an adventurous journey,
We came from the high plateaus,
In the valleys there, giant snakes as thick as barrels roamed,
But don't be afraid, those are the giant's lovely pets.
The giants live nearby,
Their bowls are big enough to bathe you…"
The bard pointed his finger at the gathered children, and the crowd burst into laughter. Even Kent was captivated by the bard's storytelling style, which was unlike anything he'd ever seen before. The bard continued:
"Our forests may not be as vast as the Blackwood Forest,
But the giant trees in the valley reach over a hundred meters tall.
Only the bravest hunters can climb to the top in one breath.
We traveled through the plateau's canyons, walking for three days and nights,
Until we reached the plains below.
You think that canyon is just a normal mountain range?
No, no, no,
That's the scar left by Arkana's giant sword,
A crack split into the earth by the gods.
Arkana is a foreign god,
He fell in love with the female leader of the Hammer Clan,
This story happened a thousand years ago,
When my grandfather's grandfather's grandfather told it to his children.
The female leader's tears flowed endlessly,
Waterfalls cascaded, the rivers ran red.
The Crow Swamp stretched northward,
No one dares enter, and we were only passing through.
We are mere travelers in this world,
True adventure is not a comfortable journey.
In the Northern Mountain Range, a war is brewing,
The Beast Horde will go mad on the night of the full moon,
The invasion of the evil beasts may begin in the forest."
The crowd gasped in surprise. Some of them grew anxious.
"Is that true?" someone shouted, "The Beast Tide hasn't happened for many years."
"Oh, this is a tale from the highlands,
A story passed down through the generations.
I'm not a prophet,
I only know the stories of great warriors and battles with beasts.
And one of you asked about magic and alchemy,
My dear girl, do you want to pick stars from the sky?"
The bard quickly shifted the focus of attention, a skill all bards mastered. This was a night of joy, and such unconfirmed rumors that could bring endless fear were not suitable for a festive occasion like this. Changing the subject was something every bard was skilled at.
"The world of magic is not one we know well,
Their tribes are far away,
Across the Western Ocean, beyond the towering waves,
Only the Greenfield Continent is home to magic.
But even on the Red Earth Continent, you can find wandering mages,
They are searching for the sea where their souls can find rest.
The river of time flows endlessly,
Flames and ice intertwine and flow,
Human legions once fought beasts to the death,
Magic was at the heart of their armies.
I've seen the alchemy of the Starry Clan,
It's as old as the stars themselves,
Red Earth was once their homeland,
But the war between the alliances forced the stars to leave.
Magic and alchemy are like the languages of foreign tribes,
Some learn them easily, while others take a long time,
Ah, the Sun Clan is excluded from this,
For we value courage and strength.
But these powers are equally full of limitless force,
The mysterious power in my song cannot fully praise them,
Even time and space may be ripped apart by this force,
Taking you wherever you wish to go."
"Mr. Bard!" Fatty Bull shouted, "Where can we find a master of magic?"
The bard chuckled, his long, thick white eyebrows furrowing as his old eyes fixed on the boy who had shouted. The urgency in his voice showed he was a boy deeply fascinated by the mysterious world.
Such children existed in every tribe, in every nation, whether in the Highlands or the Forest League, and in countless other tribes and nations across the foreign continents. Driven by an insatiable curiosity about these mysterious powers, they eventually grew to become great warriors.
This was the bard's greatest achievement—to see such curious children and shape the future through his stories.
"Oh, my dear little one,
There are many who know magic,
But those who are truly masters of it are always on the move,
Like a lucky shooting star in the sky,
Would you be willing to wait for it to fall for you?
But if you possess unique talent,
Everything may turn out differently,
Even here in this remote valley,
The gods may take a step to bless you…"
He continued to chant the stories people were interested in: tales of the strange lands and races of the foreign continents, stories of the forest giant tribes that had disappeared from the Red Earth Continent for many years, tales of the sky and the stars, the stories of ancient humans taming wolf packs, the Tree of Life and the Song of the Forest, tales of the legendary dragons and endless treasures, the proud guardian beasts and their soul contracts, and the story of the lost Hunter King's fragments…
Admiration, astonishment, and laughter filled the air. The crowd was alternately loud and quiet, every person focused on the stories, eager to hear more. The peaceful life of Spearhead Territory was about to change, thanks to the arrival of the traveling merchant caravan.
The elderly bard, the smiling caravan leader, were like ink drops falling onto a calm surface, rippling outward, slowly but surely, touching their lives, and altering their futures.
The night felt endless, as if time itself had paused.