Teller of truth once came in a village

He spoke and revealed:

A villager shall drown

Another wear a crown

Everything else will burn.

Faced with the Truth.

A villager, brimmed with anger

He went to the Teller, fuelled by youth.

Slipped on sooth, fell, then drowned.

The others were furious

They treated the Teller like a killer.

And on the brasier finished the Teller

But Truth was spoken and revealed

The flames surrounded the Teller the whole night.

The villagers left him there, quickly bored.

But out of the brasero

Burning the wind, embers flew.

Followed then by the village too.

A single woman, gone the night to milk the Yaedas

Came back at dawn.

Now Queen of Dust.

Ode to the Tellers, Anonymous troubadour.

  The Canyon of Sables had been a painting of multiple whites. Since they left, the canvas had birthed new colours, life slowly creeping its way in. The snow encompassing the great plains they went through was slowly but surely melting away, giving place to burgeoning spring.

Their destination was the large city of Gite. Nay would later learn it to be the fifth most populated of the Empire of Ja. It was situated next to the western sea of Treolle, and its whole economy depended on its harbour and its merchants. The beautiful noble and high bourgeois district was standing atop a plateau, while the other districts were down on the ground. A long wall made of red bricks was delimiting the city.

Nay would always remember her arrival at the Nordicus gate. It was night, the rampart was only distinguishable through lit torches and it was eerily silent. You could only focus on the smell. If death had one, it would be of the city moats of Gite.

Her memories of what happened afterwards were fractured. She had to leave the cooking caravan and the vehicles had been sold. She almost immediately had been separated from Marke, who had things to resolve.

For a few weeks, Nay slept in a shabby tavern, in the same room as Ra’fa, with no news of the man who had promised to take both of them under his wing. Of this place, she remembered only the noise. The constant hubbub of the clients and of the kitchen easily pierced the thin walls of their room. Nay could only leave with Ra’fa, which meant sporadically, as the cook helped in the kitchen most of the time.

Monday, market day, became a special one for Nay. It was then that began her new life. It was the first time that Ra’fa had agreed to bring her at one of the large and plentiful marketplaces of the city of Gite. It was also the first, but not the last, time she was lost in one. She had been overwhelmed by the crowd, and quite abruptly separated from her caretaker. Alone amongst many, she had felt anger and fear. Anger against herself, as she felt it was her fault she was lost, and fear because she had never felt so suffocated before. She felt minuscule, pushed around by a human wave seemingly bigger and bigger. Never had she seen so many different faces or smelled such contrasting odours. When she lifted her head trying to breathe, she smelled flowers and unknown spices, and when she fell or ducked down, she could smell stagnating water and rotten food on the muddy disgusting ground at her feet.

At one point, she could not move anymore, truly submerged.

Too many stimuli, bashing the inside of her head as effectively as a war drum.

“Nay!” She heard a shout. A voice freeing her from all the others.

Ra’fa had found her? She stood on her toes, trying to find the one who had shouted her name. To her surprise, it was not the cook but the sergeant who was approaching her. She almost did not recognize him without his silver armour. He was also wearing a new dark-iron helmet, which did not help. She did not understand why he needed that new accessory.

“Kiddo!? What are you doing there all on your own? Where is Ra’fa?” He was wearing leather clothing, much tighter on his body than his previous armour, showing his muscles ostensibly. Dressed like this, his savage masculine beauty was undeniable.

“Nay!” This time, Nay recognized the voice as the one of her caretaker and ran towards her.

“Ra’fa?” She said softly, finally finding her way back to the large woman in the crowd.

“Nay! You have to shout louder than that if you want to be heard…you gave me a fright…” She seemed immensely relieved.

“Marke is back.” Announced the little girl.

With those words, the Legio emerged from the crowd.

A fleeting smile passed on the woman’s face, almost immediately replaced with a frown.

“You!” She screamed at him, making a few passers-by turn around to look. “What took you so long? Did you even think about what I was starting to believe!? I thought…I thought…”

He gave her a painful smile. “Don’t talk so loudly, Hani, people can hear us. Buying the grounds for the school was harder than expected, and I needed a helmet.”

“You needed a helmet…” She answered, sticking an accusatory finger on his chest. “And I already told you not to call me that in public! I thought you…that you as well…”

Nay just now realized that Ra’fa was slightly taller than Marke, even though he was far from short. The current argument did not bother her that much, she knew it was their normal way of saying hello to each other. The large woman seemed more emotive than usual though.

“With that much money on me, I did not want to put a target on your backs. You know I would never abandon you. I apologize if I brought back bad memories, but it had to be done that way, I promise you.” Marke had spoken softly, his gaze cold and distant. Nay barely understood what he said.

Ra’fa lowered her eyes.

“You should have told me…” She whispered.

“I am sorry Hani.” His distant look had been replaced with tenderness.

“Ra’fa?” The girl interrupted them.

The two adults seemingly just remembered she was there and had probably heard their whole exchange. Marke coughed while Ra’fa blushed slightly.

“Yes?” The large woman said.

“Where is your basket?” Nay asked.

Ra’fa’s opened her eyes wide.

“By Lebe! My basket!” She exclaimed.

Marke had been coming to meet them at their tavern to bring them with him, so they quickly returned there to do their bags. They had not many things, and it took only minutes for them to leave. Marke guided them through the city, south. After more than an hour, they left the northern lower-districts to enter the southern lower-districts.

Nay had never been there, and she admired for the first time the road that cut the city in two: Azure Road. She stood there, speechless. She had exited a quite normal-looking paved alleyway, and now, it felt like she was walking on the ocean floor.

This was one of the most beautiful places she had ever seen, the coral pavements of Azure Road.

She remembered a lesson from Ra’fa.

“The district we’re in is called the Borealis District. South-west of here is the Ducal Plateau, that’s the strange cliff thing you can see out of the window, and south-east of here is the Awakened District.”

And unfortunately, as they were going towards the latter district, they only crossed Azure Road briefly. Nay could not stop a pained sigh from escaping her lips as they left this marvel of a boulevard.

After a few minutes, they reached the cliffs of the Ducal Plateau. It was impossible to miss, visible from miles around, but Nay had never examined it this closely before now. They followed a road at the bottom of it for a while, but only saw one way that climbed the strange flat mountain. It was blocked by a stockade made of black wood and a metal gate, with three guards protecting its access.

The men made Nay curious. They had impressive armours, as if made from soft metal mixed with multicoloured crystals. It was almost cute, except the ones who wore them felt threatening at best.

Much more clean-looking than the other citizens Nay had seen before, relaxed and smiling. They did not fool her for a second. The swords at their belts had tasted fresh blood more than once.

She remembered what Ra’fa had told her next.

“The plateau, that’s the high-district. Everything else is considered low-district, except the harbour, north-west.” Ra’fa had not seemed to like this “high-district” one bit, almost spitting the word.

Less than two miles from the blocked road leading up the plateau, they arrived in front of a large, immaculate, and empty terrain.

“Here we are!” Announced the sergeant.

There was a short silence.

“Very nice plot of land. But where are we supposed to go?” Asked Ra’fa.

“Oh, don’t worry, look on your right, see the little brick house? That is where we will live. We’ll have to squeeze in for a while, but when the school is done, and it will be done quick, Ka’in promised me, we’ll have more space for ourselves as well.” The little construct he was pointing at was not big, though it seemed much better than most of the other houses around. In the city, almost all of them were built with this unusual dark wood that felt claustrophobic and depressing. Bricks probably meant much less noise than in the tavern Nay and Ra’fa had lived in before.

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“How is the school supposed to help? We’re not going to sleep in it.” Ra’fa retorted.

Marke answered with a large smile.

“No, but you’ll be able to use the large kitchen we’ll build inside!”

Nay did not decipher the expression of her adoptive mother, but the smile on the Legio’s face vanished quite rapidly. She refocused on the house.

Like the wooden structures around, the bricks were dark, but the roof was amber-coloured. It was cosy and welcoming. Nay already felt at home.

As promised, the construction work was quickly completed. One year could be considered long, but it really was not when you considered the arduous task of building an entire school. The artisans and workers had been numerous and hardworking, helped by the clemency of the weather of Gite. Nay had not understood the lessons of Ra’fa at first, when her adoptive mother had explained to her that there was more than Priyu and Hiyu here. The little girl had to experience the four seasons herself to finally get it.

The new school could be considered beautiful, but first and foremost, it had been built to be functional. It was surrounded by three stone walls, it did not need a fourth, as the building was next to the southern cliff of the Ducal plateau. The defences were probably overkill, but it was mainly there to reassure the parents. Inside was one large building, multiple times the size of Nay’s new home. It hosted two classrooms, a kitchen, showers and a large canteen-like common room. The showers, cold water obviously, were mostly there to accommodate Nay and Ra’fa, then the students if they needed one. In the middle of the school stood a courtyard, built like an old monastery cloister, typical in Gite upper class construction according to Ra’fa, except one of the walls surrounding it was the plateau’s cliff. It would be used as training grounds.

One side of the courtyard was paved, the other was simple earth, with some grassy and sand-filled parts. All was perfectly flat except one large rock sticking out of the ground close to the plateau.

The enormous natural wall was oriented north-west, and as such was blocking the sunset, creating the impression of night much earlier than at other places in the city.

Nay was fascinated by this wall. She had the irrepressible desire to climb it. Succeeding its ascension would most likely bring her upon the sinuous road hundreds of feet higher. She would have to start climbing in the morning, under the rising sun.

Unfortunately for her desires, this year had been a busy one, and she was always submerged from helping Ra’fa cooking, training with Marke and helping with the construction work in any small way possible. Add to this that Ra’fa had started giving her lessons of general knowledge and she had no time of her own left.

But now that the work was over and the workers gone, she hoped she could find more time for herself.

Marke did not let her. As the school was finished, they needed to recruit teachers, guards, and servants, but students were the most important point.

Marke had a plan, and he explained it to his adopted daughter as they used the recently finished training grounds for the first time.

“Left! Nay, no, way too slow. Do it again. Right!”

Since they first met, more than a year had passed.

Marke was examining the little girl dressed in her dark leather training garb. Nay had not grown much, in appearance not much older than six years old. Marke had no doubts she was much older than that, her maturity and vocabulary as primary proof.

He had never asked her for her age, he knew Ra’fa had tried multiple times. As she was teaching the little girl what days, months and years were, the cook had interrogated the girl on her age again and again. But Nay had never been able to tell her what those 400 dews meant. At least the girl could read the time on a clock now.

Still, even though Marke had not pushed the subject himself did not mean he did not care. He could see how fast Nay understood his increasingly complex instructions and orders. It was not normal for such a young child.

There was something else, of course, a certainty that never left him.

The thought bothered him, and he just now remembered they were sparring.

He dodged the girl’s strike easily and hit back.

Too strong, he immediately realized.

Lost in his thoughts, he had forgotten to hold back.

His wooden sword flew, ready to break the girl’s skull. It missed Nay by a breath as, in an incredible feat of speed and flexibility, she ducked while at the same time deflecting the sword with her own.

Then, still down on the ground, she mowed his feet with her right leg and pushed her fake dagger to hit his wrist.

It did not have much of an effect, the sergeant did not even flinch under the attack. She was far from being strong enough to wound or trip him.

Nonetheless, the girl smiled.

“I did it!” She exclaimed; unaware she had just escaped a quite dangerous strike.

The Legio felt his wrist throb. He was too shocked to respond.

“Marke?”

He answered without thinking: “Sorry, I didn’t…” He stopped talking to compose himself. “That’s not it! You aimed for my wrist! I am still dangerous, even with only one hand. Aim for the throat next time. Also, that kind of kick is useless, don’t use it anymore. You are a girl, and to swipe someone off his feet you need weight, that you don’t have. When you kick, aim for the temples or the chin instead.”

The little girl’s enthusiasm deflated completely.

“But you’re twice my size! How can I ever reach your head with my feet!?”

“You’ll grow and it’ll become easier, in the meantime, jump higher.”

She grumbled and pouted in front of this unreasonable demand.

Marke hesitated, refraining a smile as her expression of indignation amused him. He put his weapon down and announced the end of the training.

Nay was ready to go, but he stopped her.

He sat on the ground and asked for her to do the same.

When she did, he began talking.

“I would like to use you for the school. I would like for you to show the upper families what my training taught you.”

“Upper families?” Asked the little girl, confused.

He continued, unperturbed.

“I managed to get the opportunity to do a demonstration in the Capri Arena a month from now on, courtesy of Ka’in. You’d do a spar with me, then one with a Virnyl guard, most likely.”

“Virnyl guards?” Nay was trying to understand the best she could, but it was not enough. Too many unknown words.

He sighed.

“It’s Gite’s elite guards. There are a hundred or so, often second or third sons of noble families, or bourgeois families trying to marry into nobility. In short, they are soldiers directly under the orders of Duke Yarnt the Brave.”

“But…it means I will have no way of winning!?”

“Absolutely true. But that is not the point, you just need to show you defend yourself well. If they realize your level, the upper class, those who are influential, will send their children here. Maybe we will even see girls going to school!

Nay felt anxious.

“You want to use me to compete with other schools? But I’m not good enough! I can’t even manage to do one single technique right! Why do we need nobles or bourgeois? Why not all the children? Is that not easier?”

He answered calmly.

“No competing. The closest thing we have in this city is the Academy, where they train Virnyl guards, and the recruiting only starts when you are fifteen years old. We are making a school for children. It would be the only one of its kind in Gite, so no problem. And about your level, don’t worry, you’re good enough. You need to learn to show it better for the exhibit, that’s all.”

That was the closest thing to a compliment she had ever received from him. She looked at him, mouth open.

His expression became serious.

“As for the students…” He inhaled loudly. “Education is a luxury, one that you will be able to enjoy. Usually, only those who live up there can receive this gift.” He pointed towards the plateau. “Still, I owe a favour to an old friend, and his son will train here as well. You won’t be the only one who lives in lower-Gite.”

This conversation meant the end of her climbing dreams. She barely had the time to help Ra’fa with the cooking now. Every single day, she and Marke trained. In the morning she ran or had to hit a dummy made of wood and hay again and again. Her favourite training was the one that came next, Marke called it the Rreico. He had briefly explained to her that it was a rhythm, something akin to the flow of the fight. During this exercise, she had to spar with him, breathe in harmony with him and analyse every single one of his moves and attacks.

It was her favourite because he never said anything to her during those moments. No complaints or critiques.

From afternoon through evening, he taught her the Art of the Imperial Dance.

She could not describe her emotions the first time she saw Marke show her this absurd swordplay.

“It is not really something you use in a fight. Some strikes could be adapted in real life situations, but it is too much of a show-off style. With the amount of spins involved, you can be happy if you’re not getting a blade in your back two seconds into combat.” The Legio paused briefly, then unsheathed his iron sword and knife. “I’ll show it to you. We’ll train with wooden weapons, but I want you to see what it looks like with real blades first.” With those last words said, he began.

It was strange to see this large man, muscled like a Tertia, usually so brutal in his every move, become incredible gracious, seemingly floating and flying when he danced this Imperial Dance. Every step, every move was echoing something in Nay. Deep down, the memories she was trying to forget every day and was never completely able to, were pushed forwards as Marke was pushing forwards, and tugged her soul as he was stepping backwards.

Marke was dancing, his blades were dancing with him. Together they created a deadly whirlwind, but even then, him and his steel were a living mural of astounding beauty.

Nay’s mind was transported far. She heard someone laugh, crystal clear expression of perfect joy.

Her thoughts were interrupted by her adoptive father. He had finished his demonstration.

“You got that? Too many needless movements.”

She did not agree with his statement but did not retort anything. She quickly wiped off the lonely tear on her cheek.

“Where did you learn this?” She asked instead.

Marke raised an eyebrow. It was the first time she was interested in the origin of a technique.

He did not comment on it and answered simply.

“The imperatrix wanted all her soldiers to be able to dance with the blades. That’s how she called it; the name was changed to the Imperial Dance, as it came from her.”

“You served under the Imperatrix!?” She almost shouted, astounded.

“Never told you about that? I did, not for long. It’s nothing important.” He cut the conversation to a close.

She was far from convinced it was not important, but she knew better than to push for more. If he didn’t want to say, he wouldn’t.

Every day she came back home exhausted, barely able to chew on her food. She only helped Ra’fa with it during lunch, the remaining time was for her combat training.

It made her sad. The moments when she helped Ra’fa were special times, almost sacred. Her adoptive mother always taught her plenty, and Nay could ask all the questions she wanted.

The large woman was now very much thinner. Through the months, she had clearly gotten more beautiful. She had lost lots of weight, enough for her to be described as slim with curves. Her face was leaner, and she only very rarely wore her white apron anymore. She now preferred wearing colourful dresses. They had to have been sewn by hand, she was too tall to have bought them at normal stores.

All this happened so progressively, it took Nay quite a long time to realize her adoptive mother’s spectacular transformation.

It was during one of those lunches where the little girl helped the cook in the kitchen that she finally did.

“Ra’fa! You are beautiful now! You’re not fat anymore!” She had said with very little tact.

Her adoptive mother had flinched at the word “fat” but had not said anything back to her.

Ra’fa had only smiled. Nay then felt a weird, chilled wind on the back of her neck throughout the whole meal. She never said that word in front of her adoptive mother ever again.

The same day, later in the afternoon, it was Marke who surprised Nay.

“Well, if you could learn the normal techniques as fast as you learned to dance with blades, you’d become the greatest swordsman in the world two years from now on.

This time, Marke had complimented her, there was no doubt.

She was so surprised she stopped dancing.

“Who said you could stop!” He barked.

She looked at him, a mixture of anger and pride boiling inside her. She met his dark gaze and quickly resumed her training again.

They did not spar during the Imperial Dance. Marke was there to inspect and improve Nay’s every move. Which she hated because critiques were never-ending. She was only spared of those during the Rreico training, but it was especially hard when he was teaching her the Imperial Dance.

Marke waited for her to restart what she was doing to begin talking again.

“Tomorrow, we’ll have a Sage-Brother come tutor you. With a bit of luck, he’s good, he’ll teach you how to read and how to write, and we’ll hire him as a teacher for the school. A good soldier is educated, and no noble family wants to entrust their child to idiots.”

“A Sage-Brother?” She asked. She was standing perfectly still, her head inches away from the ground, all of her (small) weight on her right arm as she was standing upside down. She had to extend her sword with the remaining hand while her feet were pointing towards the sky.

“You don’t even know what a Sage-Brother is?” Marke sighed. “Well, he’s got his work cut out for him…” He whispered loud enough for her to hear then continued on a more normal tone: “It is a knowledge priest, and as you could guess from the name, they’re responsible for the accumulations of knowledge, they are officiating for the God Adienha. They live through teaching others and are very sought out as politic and social advisors. Ask Ra’fa if you want to know more about them, or about him specifically.”

Which she did the same night.

Ra’fa was rather succinct.

“The Sage-Brother? His name is Berth, he is a good man who loves his work and his god. Unfortunately, he loves alcohol equally. As long as he is sober, everything will be fine but if he’s not…well, we’ll have to find another one, and unemployed Sage-Brothers are not very common.”

And with no more details, Nay was urged to bed.

Her room was not spacious, only a few strides wide and double that long. The bedroom had a small window looking upon the school’s north-eastern stone wall. There was only a bed, a doll with buttons for eyes and a closet with some simple clothes in her room. No toys, no books.

Nay had never complained. She felt lucky enough as she was. A new family, a roof, food and warm clothes. The latter wasn’t exactly needed during this beginning of Priyu, which Ra’fa had told Nay was called spring, but the little girl still had dreams of the cold, and knowing the clothes were there reassured her. Ra’fa had promised her that the weather next to the coast was much milder that the Canyon’s, which had been the truth, but even after a year here, the little girl only half-believed that. Part of her had stayed in the Canyon of Sables.

Her new tutor arrived at noon the next day. He was not tall, nor was he attractive, and he seemed quite old. At first sight, fifty or so, twenty years older than Nay’s new parents.

The Sage-Brother ate with them, but Nay had not been able to ask him anything as she was taking care of the cooking that day. And as Ra’fa always said “One who cooks only sits when everyone is served”. When she finally sat down to enjoy her own food, Marke and Berth had already finished and gone visiting the new school.

“What did you think about him?” Asked Ra’fa once they were left on their own.

“Erm? I dontsh no.” Nay gulped down. “I was cracking eggs the whole time.”

“Don’t speak with your mouth full!” Ra’fa scolded her. “Being focused is good, but you need to open your eyes and ears to what’s happening around as well. People never pay any attention to the cook or the waitress. It is the perfect job to hear and learn about the latest news. You have to get out of your world. Open yourselves to others.”

There was a short silence. Ra’fa had finished her meal and was watching Nay finish hers.

“I’ll tell you my opinion of him.” Her adoptive mother decided. “His tunic was clean; his voice was calm and he did not tremble once. Better, he didn’t smell like alcohol at all. Rumours told me he had stopped drinking; I’ve got some proof now that this is correct.”

The little girl gave her a smirk.

“But, to know he doesn’t smell, I need to open my nostrils, no? You only told me to open my eyes and ears, you lied to me!”

Ra’fa laughed and threw what remained of the water in her wooden cup. The girl dodged and ran away towards the entrance.

“Don’t play the smart Byrn with me little Firante! Now go, meet up with Marke and your new tutor in the school!”

Nay, still smirking, fled outside.