The Sage
A traveler walked down a long, dark road. Trees rustled in the wind, and the night was wet and dreary. Rain fell in unpredictable spurts, chasing the poor people indoors and then discontinuing the chase. The man wore a large, wide brimmed, black felt hat, covering his entire face in shadow, and making it impossible to distinguish facial features, and a strange light brown hoodless cloak. Underneath he wore a thin cotton shirt of a grey color, which may have been from dirt, and a canvas vest, the kind found in the westerlands. He also wore black linen pants with many pockets, linen being a common local material. A belt he also had, with many knives and pouches across it. On his right forearm he had a buckler, and on his left a bracer. On his right side a quiver, half full of arrows, hung from his belt and on that hung a bow. The least prominent, but most accessible, part of this person were the two long swords he had on his back. Everything was splintered, torn, or dented in some way.
He walked down the dirt road holding a wineskin, filled with some sort of strong liquor. This was unusual, for they generally held a watered down wine, as the name implies, or plain water. He held a slow, limping pace, for he was wounded. He had a gash on his right shoulder, and his arm oozed blood from under his bracer, which could be seen through another tear in the right sleeve of his shirt. His left thigh was wounded from what looked to be an arrow. It was still early in the afternoon, but a heavy storm was nigh, the skies were dark and ominous. He would be fortunate to reach the town before nightfall.
Hours later he finally did such, reaching the town just as any sign of light left this part of the world. The silhouette of a mountain could be seen in the distance. Lanterns were lit on some of the buildings that were still open, such as the taverns. The traveler found an old tavern which he once stayed when he had first begun his adventuring across the world. He came to the entrance and found the door open, which was no surprise. As he walked in, he noticed the small amount of activity in the tavern. As the light from inside the tavern hit him, so did the memories from his first stay. He saw the barstool he had sat in, or at least one in the same spot as it was, and began to make his way to it. He stopped before he got far, and instead opted for a booth on the other side of the room. When he sat down, he noticed his arm hurt more than ever, and his leg was beginning to cramp. The light still did not hit his face.
A barmistress came over to him. “Do you need anything?” she asked before she saw his wounds. She gasped when she saw them and asked, “D…D’you need a healer?”
“No,” he responded, his voice rough from dryness, “Just fill this with Ocrithe, and the other with water.” He drained the wineskin as he handed both the wine and water skin to her. Ocrithe was a local strong liquor.
She returned minutes later and left them on the table without looking at him. “That was three silver,” she said as she walked away.
He sat for a few minutes before reaching for his pipe. He filled it with a foreign weed from the south and lit it using a lantern on the wall. He sat there for a few more minutes smoking the pipe, pretending to ignore the men on the other side of the tavern, whom were talking about him and making motions in his direction. A little while later the mistress came by again.
“The innkeep here says he recognizes you,” she said quietly, still not looking at him. “Will you speak with him?”
“Tell him I would like that.”
Minutes went by again before anything else was heard in the tavern. Then the locals in the establishment began to murmur among themselves. The owner walked in then and made his way to the traveler.
“Jeremiah’s the name, but people around here just call me Kep, ‘cause I’m an innkeep and all,” the innkeep said as he extended a great paw.
“Macthelan, but you can call me Thaln, if you wish” the traveler growled.
“I’ve had a room made for you, and there’s also dressings for your wounds in there,” Kep said nervously, trying to break the barrier between them.
“Great thanks to you, now I’ll be off to the room,” Thaln said as he got holding the tray and turned to the stairs.
“Wait a minute sir, can you not but speak with me a bit? It has been long since you were here, and I have not heard a good story in a long time,” Kep pleaded, for the town was most certainly quiet.
Something in the way he spoke reminded him of an old memory, perhaps from here. He then remembered the town was called Durgoss.
“Alright, Kep. In return for the kindness you once showed me, and continue to on this day, I will stay and talk with you, keeper of the Durgoss Inn,” Thaln said, offering great complement to Kep, for his inn was actually the Lion’s Throne Inn.
“Why, many thanks to you, for such great words. Tell us more, a story perhaps?”
“What story would you like to hear?” Thaln said stoically as he took his seat.
“I would like to hear of your travels, what you have done since you left here.”
“I will start from the beginning then, with what brought me here.”
“A war was brewing in my homeland, and so the council of elders of the sent one messenger to seek out the prophecy of an old sage. I was the messenger.” Thaln began as he leaned back in his chair. “I was told that I could find the sage near here, and that if his tidings were not good, I should not return. So I left, travelling through harsh weather over long distances to find this continent. At last, having traveled for over a fortnight, I came upon this sleepy little town. I had made it here, but what was I going to do? I had been tossed out of my country, having been told that, were his predictions not in out favor. I could not even control my exile. Another old man was to do this for me. So I came upon this tavern, not knowing anyone in the town.”
“I walked in, a little afraid, not sure if I would be shunned away for being so different. I searched the faces of the people here, trying not to look as I felt. I sat on one of those stools, as you well know. Another traveler came over and sat next to me, upon which he ordered some Ocrithe for both he and I.”
“When it had come, he asked me, ‘Why are you here?’ ‘I search for an old sage around here, and I seek his advice.’”
“‘Be warned,’ he advised, ‘his prophecies are usually distressing, and rarely what the seeker wishes to here. He is also rarely wrong.’”
“‘So there is still hope?’ I asked him, still so naïve.”
“‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘I went to him recently to ask about a situation I was in, and what he told me was something I didn’t want to hear. So far his word is true, and I hope it does not continue to be.’”
“‘Is there anything that he has been wrong about?’ I asked, still hopeful, and desperate to keep that hope.”
“‘All that I know,’ he said, his face becoming dark and gloomy, ‘is that he cannot predict the end of the world.’ Extremely disheartened, I turned back to the drink.”
“‘Do you know where he is?’ I asked minutes later.
“‘He lives on a cave at the top of the mountain,’ the traveler said as he stood, emptied his glass, and headed for his room. ‘Rich fortunes to you, you’ll need it all.’”
“With an anxious ambition to find my fate, I headed out to the mountain to see this old man. It was becoming dark, and it only got darker as I approached the peak. Within an hour I had approached a cave with signs of life. Unsure whether he was in there, or an animal resided in the cave, I headed in.”
“As my eyes adjusted to the light of the cave, I could smell a fire, and the emanating stench of a man who had not bathed in ages. Neither was new to me. I saw an old man wrapped in many shabby pieces of cloth sitting next to a fading pile of embers.”
“‘I have come to hear the fate of my country in our coming war.’ I stated. My voice echoed throughout the cave. I could hear fear in it.”
“‘You’re country, eh? Well, we’re all doomed, so I don’t suppose it really matters…’the old sage said, his high pitched, whispery voice slowly quieted as he said it.”
“‘Tell me, old man, or I shall have your life,’ I said, becoming angry and losing my patience fast.
“‘So it is that young Thaln wishes to know his future? It is that of exile. Your country will be burned to the ground in the coming war. It is good fortune that you will not suffer their fate, yes indeed.’”
“I left then, not knowing what to do from there. I no longer had a home.”
“After it had become dark, I returned to the tavern. The strange traveler was still there. ‘Did you find your answers?’ he asked.”
“‘Yes,’ I responded, sinking into a seat next to him.”
“‘And so it was bad news to you. Drink well for me, for today I first drank and tonight will be the last time I ever do it again. With that I wish you good travels, and remember the road will always be there when things are tough, you just have to follow it. The road and my will are the only two things I have followed for years. Perhaps I will see you again sometime.’ And with that said he walked out the door and back into the world. I got myself a room, but found I only had the money to stay two nights. So two days later I followed his advice, and followed the road. I have only followed those two things ever since.”
He walked down the dirt road holding a wineskin, filled with some sort of strong liquor. This was unusual, for they generally held a watered down wine, as the name implies, or plain water. He held a slow, limping pace, for he was wounded. He had a gash on his right shoulder, and his arm oozed blood from under his bracer, which could be seen through another tear in the right sleeve of his shirt. His left thigh was wounded from what looked to be an arrow. It was still early in the afternoon, but a heavy storm was nigh, the skies were dark and ominous. He would be fortunate to reach the town before nightfall.
Hours later he finally did such, reaching the town just as any sign of light left this part of the world. The silhouette of a mountain could be seen in the distance. Lanterns were lit on some of the buildings that were still open, such as the taverns. The traveler found an old tavern which he once stayed when he had first begun his adventuring across the world. He came to the entrance and found the door open, which was no surprise. As he walked in, he noticed the small amount of activity in the tavern. As the light from inside the tavern hit him, so did the memories from his first stay. He saw the barstool he had sat in, or at least one in the same spot as it was, and began to make his way to it. He stopped before he got far, and instead opted for a booth on the other side of the room. When he sat down, he noticed his arm hurt more than ever, and his leg was beginning to cramp. The light still did not hit his face.
A barmistress came over to him. “Do you need anything?” she asked before she saw his wounds. She gasped when she saw them and asked, “D…D’you need a healer?”
“No,” he responded, his voice rough from dryness, “Just fill this with Ocrithe, and the other with water.” He drained the wineskin as he handed both the wine and water skin to her. Ocrithe was a local strong liquor.
She returned minutes later and left them on the table without looking at him. “That was three silver,” she said as she walked away.
He sat for a few minutes before reaching for his pipe. He filled it with a foreign weed from the south and lit it using a lantern on the wall. He sat there for a few more minutes smoking the pipe, pretending to ignore the men on the other side of the tavern, whom were talking about him and making motions in his direction. A little while later the mistress came by again.
“The innkeep here says he recognizes you,” she said quietly, still not looking at him. “Will you speak with him?”
“Tell him I would like that.”
Minutes went by again before anything else was heard in the tavern. Then the locals in the establishment began to murmur among themselves. The owner walked in then and made his way to the traveler.
“Jeremiah’s the name, but people around here just call me Kep, ‘cause I’m an innkeep and all,” the innkeep said as he extended a great paw.
“Macthelan, but you can call me Thaln, if you wish” the traveler growled.
“I’ve had a room made for you, and there’s also dressings for your wounds in there,” Kep said nervously, trying to break the barrier between them.
“Great thanks to you, now I’ll be off to the room,” Thaln said as he got holding the tray and turned to the stairs.
“Wait a minute sir, can you not but speak with me a bit? It has been long since you were here, and I have not heard a good story in a long time,” Kep pleaded, for the town was most certainly quiet.
Something in the way he spoke reminded him of an old memory, perhaps from here. He then remembered the town was called Durgoss.
“Alright, Kep. In return for the kindness you once showed me, and continue to on this day, I will stay and talk with you, keeper of the Durgoss Inn,” Thaln said, offering great complement to Kep, for his inn was actually the Lion’s Throne Inn.
“Why, many thanks to you, for such great words. Tell us more, a story perhaps?”
“What story would you like to hear?” Thaln said stoically as he took his seat.
“I would like to hear of your travels, what you have done since you left here.”
“I will start from the beginning then, with what brought me here.”
“A war was brewing in my homeland, and so the council of elders of the sent one messenger to seek out the prophecy of an old sage. I was the messenger.” Thaln began as he leaned back in his chair. “I was told that I could find the sage near here, and that if his tidings were not good, I should not return. So I left, travelling through harsh weather over long distances to find this continent. At last, having traveled for over a fortnight, I came upon this sleepy little town. I had made it here, but what was I going to do? I had been tossed out of my country, having been told that, were his predictions not in out favor. I could not even control my exile. Another old man was to do this for me. So I came upon this tavern, not knowing anyone in the town.”
“I walked in, a little afraid, not sure if I would be shunned away for being so different. I searched the faces of the people here, trying not to look as I felt. I sat on one of those stools, as you well know. Another traveler came over and sat next to me, upon which he ordered some Ocrithe for both he and I.”
“When it had come, he asked me, ‘Why are you here?’ ‘I search for an old sage around here, and I seek his advice.’”
“‘Be warned,’ he advised, ‘his prophecies are usually distressing, and rarely what the seeker wishes to here. He is also rarely wrong.’”
“‘So there is still hope?’ I asked him, still so naïve.”
“‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘I went to him recently to ask about a situation I was in, and what he told me was something I didn’t want to hear. So far his word is true, and I hope it does not continue to be.’”
“‘Is there anything that he has been wrong about?’ I asked, still hopeful, and desperate to keep that hope.”
“‘All that I know,’ he said, his face becoming dark and gloomy, ‘is that he cannot predict the end of the world.’ Extremely disheartened, I turned back to the drink.”
“‘Do you know where he is?’ I asked minutes later.
“‘He lives on a cave at the top of the mountain,’ the traveler said as he stood, emptied his glass, and headed for his room. ‘Rich fortunes to you, you’ll need it all.’”
“With an anxious ambition to find my fate, I headed out to the mountain to see this old man. It was becoming dark, and it only got darker as I approached the peak. Within an hour I had approached a cave with signs of life. Unsure whether he was in there, or an animal resided in the cave, I headed in.”
“As my eyes adjusted to the light of the cave, I could smell a fire, and the emanating stench of a man who had not bathed in ages. Neither was new to me. I saw an old man wrapped in many shabby pieces of cloth sitting next to a fading pile of embers.”
“‘I have come to hear the fate of my country in our coming war.’ I stated. My voice echoed throughout the cave. I could hear fear in it.”
“‘You’re country, eh? Well, we’re all doomed, so I don’t suppose it really matters…’the old sage said, his high pitched, whispery voice slowly quieted as he said it.”
“‘Tell me, old man, or I shall have your life,’ I said, becoming angry and losing my patience fast.
“‘So it is that young Thaln wishes to know his future? It is that of exile. Your country will be burned to the ground in the coming war. It is good fortune that you will not suffer their fate, yes indeed.’”
“I left then, not knowing what to do from there. I no longer had a home.”
“After it had become dark, I returned to the tavern. The strange traveler was still there. ‘Did you find your answers?’ he asked.”
“‘Yes,’ I responded, sinking into a seat next to him.”
“‘And so it was bad news to you. Drink well for me, for today I first drank and tonight will be the last time I ever do it again. With that I wish you good travels, and remember the road will always be there when things are tough, you just have to follow it. The road and my will are the only two things I have followed for years. Perhaps I will see you again sometime.’ And with that said he walked out the door and back into the world. I got myself a room, but found I only had the money to stay two nights. So two days later I followed his advice, and followed the road. I have only followed those two things ever since.”