A Record of Ash & Ruin: The Grieving Lands
Book 1: Chapter 47: Symphony

The High Elves in their hubris think themselves at the pinnacle of all things cultural, yet when was the last time their bards composed a new song? Their poets' new verse? Their tailors a new cut of fashion? Theirs is a legacy of stagnation that permeates all aspects of a society that has not seen change in millennia. What I have done in ten their best could not do in a hundred years. They call us the ‘children of the day’, but I view them as nothing more than a collection of youthful-looking old men set in their ways and bitter crones lamenting a world that once was. It is not the length of one’s life that is the measure of one’s legacy but one’s accomplishments.

- The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney 376 AC.

Still excited by the day's events, we all mutually decided that our trip to the Adventurer’s Guild could wait until morning. There were, after all, just so many hours of daylight. Kidu wanted to familiarize himself with his new equipment, and he held his new spear almost as if it were a lover. Elwin, on the other hand, wanted to go shopping and to see more of the city.

I wanted to voice my disagreement but realized he was a man fully grown and could take care of himself. What else helped sway my opinion was that he was able to purchase some new casual linen clothes, including simple gray tunics and loose trousers for Kidu and myself. Before the evening meal, I chose to practice some of my skills and ventured downstairs to request a few favors from the inn's proprietor.

Clanking down the creaking stairs, I saw that the common room was half-full, the locals already beginning to fill the place as they finished their shifts. I spied the innkeeper Taper mopping up a recent spill on the floor with an irritated look on his face. Waiting for him to finish his chore, I sat down next to the bar.

Eventually, he finished, and served another customer a large measure of ale in a horn stein before finally turning to me.

“What can I get you for? Evening’s meal not for about another two hours or so. I’ll take your order now then if it pleases quick, gots to check on the stew in a bit. if it's nice and tender. Oh, I can see you’ve got some new gear, hardly recognized you,” he said perfunctorily, barely looking me in the eye.

“Actually, I was wondering if you had something that I could measure time with. I’d be willing to make it worth your while if you had perhaps a sand clock or something?” I said as casually as I could, relaxing on my stool.

He looked at me a little curiously before answering earnestly, “Most folks here just look up to the sun, lad. But, if you’re wanting to be a little more precise, I can sell you an old cooking timer, measures about one hour. Let’s say for about three bronze pieces. Don’t have much need for it now these days.”

“That would be much appreciated, Taper,” I expressed, genuinely pleased, and slid three bronze coins across the bar.

“Two more ales, good innkeeper,” one of the locals shouted from somewhere near the back.

“Be with you in a moment Jefra, just getting something,” the innkeeper replied tersely, pocketing my coin before heading to the back room.

I waited for perhaps a minute or two before Athinad returned with a small bronze hourglass filled with fine black sand, perhaps fifteen centimeters in height, at a rough guess. It wasn’t particularly beautiful, but it certainly looked practical, with small indents on the glass that demarcated ten-minute intervals up to an hour.

Placing it on the counter he looked to me and inquired, “Have no idea what you’re wanting with this, and for three bronze I really don’t care either way. But can I do you for anything else?” sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ ɴ0velFɪre.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

“No, thank you kindly. This will do just nicely,” I said as I got up off the stool, feeling a little stiff around the waist due to my armor. I stretched for a moment before cradling the hourglass in one of my hands. I nodded once more to the innkeeper, who was already taking another drink order, and made my way back to our room.

Athinad’s shrill voice followed me up the stairs, “Don’t forget! The evening meal’s in two turns of that glass!” he shouted.

I couldn’t help but smile to myself, as I finally had a way to measure time. This meant I could more precisely measure the scope of my abilities, instead of relying on blind guesswork. The game world seemed to agree as I was gifted with another notification as I clanked my way back up the stairs.

You have gained 1 Wisdom

Opening the door, I was greeted by the sight of Kidu inspecting his new weapon. I greeted the wildman and was given a small grunt in return, as he was so engrossed in his work. Checking my status, I made note that my Mana was at two points after having cast Identify at multiple shop signs throughout the day. I settled into the chair, took off my gloves and cast Identify on a random passerby to bring my Mana to exactly one point before turning over my new hourglass.

Hallise Randefor - Baker (Human lvl.8) Health 88/88 Stamina 28/29

Mana 9/9

I quickly dismissed the unimportant information and, with a little time on my hands, I decided to join Kidu in the maintenance of our gear. I stood up from the chair and took off my robes and armor, feeling a small sense of relief as I removed my heavy brigandine. Next to come off were the gambeson, bevor, and my visored helm, followed slowly by my iron greaves and chainmail leggings. Looking at my equipment I couldn’t help but feel a little impressed with my layers of protection.

Remembering Cillis’ instructions concerning the maintenance of my armor, I checked over my new equipment. I did this more out of a need to form a habit than actual necessity. This did not last long, as often my thoughts would wander back to my time with the smith in the tool shed. Shrugging off those distracting thoughts from my mind, I focused back on the task at hand and finished my inspection.

I could see now why the warriors of antiquity had a very personal relationship with their armor, as my hands roved across the hard surfaces. Each piece was designed to soften a blow or turn a blade to protect the wearer’s life and was deserving of respect and care.

Once I had finished the ceremony of the maintenance of my arms and armor, I gazed fixedly at the hourglass. The sands continued to trickle down until, finally, the top half-emptied, marking the end of an hour. Soon afterward my Mana ticked up by a single point, signaling the success of my experiment and establishing a baseline for my Mana regeneration. I did not require ‘rest’ in the traditional sense of most games to restore my magical energies.

With another hour to go before the expected evening meal, I flipped the hourglass over and informed Kidu that I would be going downstairs to take a bath. He just grunted and nodded knowingly as he continued sorting out and familiarizing himself with his own gear.

Going down the stairs again, I tried to pay Athinad for the use of the baths. However, the innkeeper waived away my payment with a quick smile saying that it was included with the clock I’d bought. Soon after, he called the boy to see to my laundry. Again, just the mere mention of that boy drew feelings of irrational suspicion to the fore of my mind.

Entering the baths, I was able to ease some of the tensions of the day as the hot water began working its magic on my knotted muscles. I would have to ask the innkeeper later how he heated the water. The Children of the Tides, for all their barbarity, definitely did have a good understanding of water and plumbing. It would be interesting to see how magic had affected this society’s technological development, or lack thereof.

After a good soak and a stay in the dry room, I returned to our rooms and left my borrowed bathrobe at the door for the boy to collect. I felt another stab of irrational fear; was the boy spying on us again? I quickly dismissed that thought and conversed with Kidu, asking him about his life in the north of the continent whilst he helped me don my armor once more.

Kidu spoke of his people, who inhabited a massive area of frozen tundra known, in his language, as the Kar-Kaphon, which directly translated meant the ‘Trial of Man.’ The group of people who lived their life there was called ‘The People of Trial,’ or ‘They Who Are Tested.’ The people of the North were then broken down into many independent tribes, each named after their totem animal. Kidu’s own tribe was named after the great bears, which they venerated as totem animals.

Like the Eskimo of Earth, with their vocabulary for snow, the northern tribes had many different words for the myriad of tests that their savage land brought. The elements tested their fortitude, the beasts and ever-hungry semi-sentient Ice Drakes tested their cunning, and the harshest of winters, requiring great sacrifice from the older members of the Tribes, tested their resolve as a people. There was even a word for leaving the arms of a passionate lover to enter a cold blizzard for the good of the tribe.

Life in the furthest reaches of the North was difficult and short, with every day a raw struggle to survive in the icy wastes. So harsh were the conditions there that the mothers of the tribe would hold a funeral ceremony for each babe on the day of their birth, and would give them a name only once they reached their tenth birthday. They only celebrated each decade of life and a man or woman who had seen five such celebrations was seen as a venerable elder of the tribe and earned the title of ‘Icewalker.’ These highly esteemed people were well respected and their voices were heard and given due weight at tribal gatherings.

Their women, more resistant to the rigors of the cold, were highly regarded and often held positions of great esteem within the tribe. When the survival of the tribe depended on level-headed rationing and easing tensions in crowded tents in the bitterest of winters, it was the women to whom the tribes looked.

Some were even trained as ‘Windspeakers’ to guide their tribes through the frozen storms and to keep their laws, oral histories, and ancient traditions. So in tune were they to frozen wastes that a rare few were even able to call upon the raw elemental power of the ice and storm to protect the interests of their tribe. Thus the culture of the north was, for the most part, a matriarchal society.

Their whole culture was based around two eternal constants - the freezing cold and the massive Cronir. These heavy, six-horned, muscular, deer-like animals were, according to Kidu, almost forty hands high and moved across the frozen north like the caribou of Earth would. The Cronir provided them with their meat, their clothing, their primitive weapons, and even their fermented blood provided them with a form of strong alcohol they called ‘Kazass.’

Permanent settlements were few and far between, all of them centered around rare hot springs that gushed from the ground and provided warmth for the tribes. These settlements were exclusively neutral grounds and were used as trading centers for the people of the north and were not owned by any single tribe.

The people of the north were cousins to another group called the Nords. While Kidu and his tribes followed the migratory herds of Cronir across the tundra and forests of the North, the Nords followed the currents of the seas and were eminent sailors. The would-be bully, Harun, Gunne’s protector, was one fine example of a bellicose Nord. I still occasionally savored the taste of his death and the cathartic power it brought me.

Both peoples were also skilled raiders and would send parties to what they called the ‘Hot Lands’ or ‘Warm Lands’ to bring wealth and honor to their tribes. On occasion, they would venture down as mercenaries or swords for hire, their skills forged in the frozen north and then forged anew in the heat of battle of the internecine wars of the south. Not all would make it back, either fallen in battle or seduced by the easy life of the southern lands.

With the hourglass finally emptying and the evening now upon us, I judged it to be a good time to head downstairs for the evening meal. I thanked him for telling me about his people and apologized for not being able to say much about my own. I promised him and myself that one day I would tell him everything, but for the sake of simplicity, that day was not today.

Hauntingly beautiful music echoed up to my ears as I opened the thick door to our room. I followed the trail of musical notes down the stairs to the common room and was greeted by a strange and mysterious sight. An armored man, of average height and build, clad in chainmail and boiled leather scale armor, sat cross-legged in the corner. His raven dark hair splayed across his shoulders like a dark waterfall and his brown eyes glowed warmly, reflecting the fire’s light.

He sang in a resonant tenor, filling the room with the enchanting beauty of his melody, as his fingers danced across the strings of his delicate, lute-like instrument. I did not understand a single word of his song but understood fully the beauty of his message. The song was about life, death, loss, and the siren’s call of finality. The room fell into a respectful silence as the final notes of his song died in the air. Moments later, the solemn atmosphere was burst apart by thunderous applause.

“First time I have seen a true Bard,” a familiar voice whispered in my ear, causing me to jump, almost embarrassingly, in my heavy armor.

“Elwin!” I said, thoroughly surprised at what I saw before me.

Elwin had bought what looked like a set of dark-colored armor made from boiled leather scales. The whole ensemble came with a cloth-padded hooded jacket. Around his waist was a new belt with an array of deadly-looking knives in small sheathes. Now, after his shopping spree, the man really did look like a Rogue.

“Thought I’d get back to join you all for the evening meal,” he replied, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Was pleasantly surprised to listen to music from a Bard. Seems that there is light at the end of the tunnel.”

“Yes, the music was rather lovely. I can see that you decided to enrich some of the local merchants,” I said as something whimsical took me.

“Hah!” he said, tapping the side of his nose knowingly.

Curiosity possessed me and I walked up to the bard as he was drinking ale from a large mug in great lugs. My sallet held under the crook of my arm, I greeted him.

“Hello there and good evening, good sir. My name is Gilgamesh of Uruk,” I said formally, feeling that a little ceremony was required, before continuing, “I have a favor and request to ask of you.”

He arched a single eyebrow before looking at me directly as he put his wooden mug of ale down. “The name is Darren Kragain of Haylesland, a pleasure to meet you. Your manners serve you well, so please do go on,” he replied in a cultured tenor voice that was as smooth as spun silk.

“Your song was most beautiful, the best I have ever heard in these lands, and has given me a yearning for the sounds of my own home. I would like you to play a song from my homeland, if it is not too much trouble?” I asked, a little awe in my voice, as I placed half a silver beside his instrument. Being this close to it, I could see that it was almost a magical thing. Intricate whorls and patterns flowed across the body of the lute-like instrument and entwined plant and animal designs gathered around the rose and ran up to the neck.

“Tell me the name of the song,” he asked, looking a little bored.

I was sure that the bard would often get requests like this.

“You will have never heard of this song...” I continued, and the bard perked up a little, his interest now piqued. “…it is a song from a faraway land, and it goes a little like this...”

Humming as best I could the parts of the song from the intro to the outro, I was lost for a moment in the memories of better times. Having no ear for music myself, I wondered if I was properly able to convey the song. Even with my lack of musical talent, the Bard looked absolutely enraptured by the catchy melody.

“Yes, yes… I believe it would be easy to do. This is a whole new style of music!” he said eyes alight as he re-tuned his instrument before sitting down cross-legged once more.

His fingers played across the strings as a melody, both different yet hauntingly familiar, echoed around the common room and people grew silent once more to listen. The Bard had added his own flourishes to the tune and it was not an exact copy. For one, the lyrics of the song were now markedly better in comparison to the trite childish nonsense of the original and the notes flowed together like an ocean wave. However, the soul of the music was there and it brought back memories of a world now lost to me. A wave of homesickness flew through me and I felt that it was almost worth the half silver I paid to inflict this world with pop music.

Once the music ended to another thunderous applause, I thanked the Bard once more for his gift and ordered him another drink. I was surprised when he, in turn, thanked me and placed my coins back in my hand saying that it was, in fact, I that had given him a great gift. According to his tale, he was on a journey to find new inspiration that he might complete his quest to become a master Bard and, thanks to me, he had found it. My good use of manners rewarded me with a notification.

You have gained 1 Charisma

Extricating myself from the Bard’s pleasant company, I rejoined my companions for the evening meal and placed my heavy helm on the table. Taper served us a delicious-looking stew in wooden bowls. The stew was spicy and was filled with a wide array of tender meat and fresh boiled vegetables with a peppery aftertaste. It was very filling, but we all still ordered seconds as it was a true gastronomic delight.

Finally, we excused ourselves and settled in for the night. I volunteered to take watch, taking my customary position by the shutters to stare out into the night streets. Practicing my magic, I cast Drain a few times during the long hours of my watch, when my Mana allowed for it, at some passersby who were making their way back home.

I hardly noticed the dark voices anymore, their promises and threats falling on deaf ears, but I did notice that, with my spell having increased in power, there were now more threads of darkness made with each cast. Progress in the dark arts, I grinned ruefully, who would have thought? My body was thrumming and jittery with stolen life energies before I was snapped from the training by a heavy hand on my shoulder.

Kidu relieved me from my watch, and I, too lazy to care, simply fell into the large bed. Despite feeling mysteriously tired, I also felt strangely stimulated. With my Rest skill, however, I was able to quickly fall comfortably asleep to the embrace of familiar nightmares that stalked me in the night.

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