Chapter 70
The Puppeteer
“Red-eyed, like a beast, he roared and growled, his nostrils blowing fire, eyes steaming. Wherever his feet stepped, they scorched, a trail of blaze burning behind him. Run. Run away from the fire. Run.”
Historic Archives, Vol. III – Age of Fire
Noah was invisible, at least as far as the behemoth of the army around him was aware. Eyes of men and the few women alike were focused on the central figure, the shining light amidst the duds. She was following through on everything he taught her, Noah admitted. Interacting with everyone with a beaming smile, handing out food, blessing them, praying, and encouraging them. It has only been three days since the departure, yet, they already love her as though she was their mother.
The heart, to Noah, was perhaps the greatest flaw of the design; yet, without it, few things in the world would seem to matter. Some of them, in the masses, perhaps even know they are being played with and used, yet, if not outright ignoring it, they know that uttering something even remotely close to that would have them thrown out, if not even killed. Occupying one heart was immeasurably difficult, yet, occupying the heart of the masses was erroneously easy.
How many men, especially between the ages of seventeen and mid-twenties, could resist the charms of a beautiful woman, a Princess no less? That beaming smile, the gentle touch, the voice, the right words. The scariest part was that Olivia was a natural. She may not be like Reya, bursting with sex appeal and incorporating bedeviling charms into each of her actions, but she was the subdued type, almost ‘the girl next door’ that didn’t have to count on her sex appeal.
On the open plains spanning well over ten miles, hundreds of tents stood erect, yet the convergence of souls was almost humorous. Wherever she walked, they followed, almost like the planets orbiting the star.
“… our Princess is really good at this, huh?” Asandra’s voice drew his attention away from the swarmed Olivia and onto the two approaching figures – she dragged the poor bard by the ear and tossed him onto the ground in front of Noah, while she sat next to him, onto the wagon’s backend. “Did you really teach her all this? If so, you might be more of a woman than I am.”
“As though that’s an accomplishment,” Noah shrugged, causing Asandra to grunt, realizing she’d set herself up for it. “But no, if you’d believe it; this is all her.”
“… she has them.” Asandra said. “So wholly I bet half of them will wake up wet the next morning.”
“And that is why it wouldn’t be an accomplishment,” Noah grinned, glancing at her and handing her a flagon of ale. “Why’d you drag the poor kid here?”
“He was trying to sneak off to peak at the bathing women,” Asandra said, taking a full swig of ale. “Bringing him along might have been a bigger headache than we expected.”
“… eh, he’s not half-bad,” Noah shrugged, glancing at the sheepishly-grinning Lo’kret who stumbled onto his feet and glanced back at Olivia. “Besides, you seem pretty apt at keeping him in check. Prior experience?”
“He used to do it quite frequently when I just started off as a City Guard,” Noah said. “As I was one of the few women, I was always the one needing to go in and find the worm. I must have locked him in a dungeon at least a couple of dozen times, yet this cretin just… kept on keeping.”
“Women are the gift of Light, you brute,” Lo’kret glanced at her angrily. “And men have eyes solely to look. Hands solely to touch.”
“Then you ought to stop writing your songs if you have hands only to touch women,” Noah said, drawing the bard’s focus onto him. “And stop singing, as I imagine there is a more woman-oriented activity you could be doing with your tongue.”
“… you are terrifyingly good at just putting him down,” Asandra said with a bemused expression. “I ought to learn a thing or two.”
"Eh," Noah shrugged. "I've had to take a few kids like him in when I was younger, so I learned."
“What’s the key to it?” Asandra asked, and even Lo’kret perked his ears; indeed, the man has gotten the better of him ever since they met. Knowing what was the thing keeping him back could go a long way.
“The key? Being smarter than them,” Noah said. “Which, in all fairness, isn’t all-too-difficult.”
“…” Asandra sighed while Lo’kret barely contained the movement of his eyebrows.
“I don’t mind you trying to get your boy going,” Noah said after a short silence and a few mouthfuls of ale; it was rather sweet, furthering the thirst on quite a hot day. “But I don’t think you were invited to get free wanks off. Look behind you. What do you see? Tell me a story. Sing me a song about that moment.” He added, pointing at the still-surrounded Olivia who was almost masterfully navigating the entire ordeal.
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“…” Lo’kret focused for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing. Without the sheepish expression, and if his ridiculous hair was to be ignored, he appeared even somewhat handsome, and would certainly tantalize a lady or two if he wasn’t who he was. “They found themselves, those boys, in her arms; she cradled them in the Light never seen; for the first time they had felt accepted; for the first time had seen the pastures green. She extended her hands and accepted; heaved them toward the blistering sun; their hearts never felt so tempted; than to fight for their only One. In their eyes I’d see the fervor and the zeal; the likes of which you could not devise; their burning hearts they had steeled; and forged an army prophesizing the Kindle’s demise.”
“…” the serious expression vanished as the bard glanced back at Noah and Asandra, with the former looking at him expressionlessly, sipping ale, and the latter appearing somewhat gobsmacked. “No good,” Noah shook his head, both to Asandra’s and Lo’kret’s surprised as they believed, especially the latter, that the song encapsulated the moment perfectly. “The first part is too specific; a lot of these lads are going with us to protect someone they have back home. Her accepting them is not necessarily the crux of this entourage anyway. When singing about a single person, they cease being a person in that song and become the symbol. However, rather than her, you made the army itself a symbol. Furthermore, in the last verse, you didn’t even mention her and entirely focused on the army – and the final verse is usually the one that resonates the most with the listeners. She is also front-heavy; you cannot symbolize her in the first verse, as it is over-selling. Start her off as a human who became a symbol due to her choices. Furthermore, by symbolizing her as ‘the One’, you have elevated her to a deity, which would backfire so hard your ass would be set on fire faster than you could espouse your decadence.”
“…” with each new sentence, Lo’kret felt his heart being crushed further and further, his confidence, much like the winter’s snow in the Spring, melting… and melting. Asandra’s lips parted in shock as he disassembled the entire song so effortlessly, cleanly, and painfully, so much so that even she felt somewhat bad for the bard.
“You have the right idea,” Noah continued. “But the key to embellishing the events is that you do so over the course of the song. Start it with the reality – and slowly differentiate her from others, specifically of the upper strata. They surrounded her, but, let's say unlike the others, she didn't chase them away but started talking with them. The entire first verse should be about this human side – one that is painted realistically, so much so that others, who weren't here, could imagine themselves in that situation. From thereon, you begin elevating her; each time she'd bless a soul, the Light surrounding her would grow. Make it sound as though the people made her a symbol, rather than you, the bard. They deified her, they canonized her, they started worshiping her. And you, the bard, found the moment so beautiful, breathtaking and unique, that you had to write it down, despite your wit and words being inadequate to completely capture the moment. Remember how the world sees Olivia,” he continued as Lo’kret fell to his knees and listened, listened so carefully he embedded every single word into his memory.
"They don't see her as the holy figure you're describing," Noah said. "Most see her as a sheltered Princess who can't match up to her siblings. A young girl who has never done much with her life, and is only marginally-liked. You need to make her sound like that in the first verse. Your listeners need to think 'oh, yes, this does sound like Princess Olivia'. And, then, veer them through the transformation. She didn’t transform – the people transformed her. Besides, you can't make the transformation part come this early – remember, your song will encapsulate all the events, from our departure to our return. Spend a good chunk with her being the human, being the Princess everyone knows her as."
“…” Lo’kret’s astounded face had turned completely serious by the end as he committed the words and the advice to his memory. Even Asandra looked to be storing some of what he had said into her mind, though gave up halfway through as she found it quite tiresome.
“Wouldn’t it be better if you wrote the song if you know about it so much?” she asked Noah who quickly chuckled.
"Knowing what to write in a song, and actually writing it are two completely different things," he said. "So, no, it wouldn't be better. As a matter of fact, we'd all come crashing and burning if I was to write the song. Perhaps even more so than if you were in charge of writing it.”
“… thank you,” Lo’kret said seriously, surprising Asandra who’d never seen the lad quite like this before. “Would it be okay if I came to you with the initial songs? To go over them with the same mindset?”
“… you already know everything,” Noah said. “I’ve simply steered you in the right direction. Don’t abide by my words as though a law; you are a bard. You know the best how to write and sing a song. Write with your heart and not your mind. We aren’t trying to impress philosophers and Dacents here, but mostly ordinary people who have little in the knowledge of poetry and songs. The key is to stir their hearts, not have them sitting in awe at the art of storytelling. Alright?"
“… yes,” Lo’kret nodded, shooting to his feet. “I promise you I’ll write a song that the entire Kingdom will be singing from the bottoms of their hearts. And at the top of their lungs.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Noah smiled faintly as the boy spun around and raced back to their carriage. “Ah, to be young.”
“… how does it feel?” Asandra suddenly asked with a queer smile.
“How does what feel?” Noah asked back.
“To be the puppeteer behind the curtain pulling all the strings,” she said. “While the entire audience is simply admiring the story they believe is natural?”
"… you overestimate me," Noah shook his head, chuckling bitterly. "Everything I'm doing right now is minor, careful, optimized. People in power know well enough that there is someone behind Olivia orchestrating all of this. The key isn't fooling the world into believing that the story unfolding is natural, but about who is pulling the strings. But enough about that. We are rather open here; watch out for the attacks coming from the west and north. Likely culprits would be merchant wagons and a band of seemingly homeless. Don't turn anyone away, but also don't allow Olivia to interact directly with them. Cut heads at the slightest sign of trouble."
“… isn’t that a bit too brutal?” Asandra quizzed, taking the last mouthful of ale in the flagon, getting up.
“It’s good to put some fear into their hearts,” Noah said, his eyes focused on the large army. “A deterrent of sorts. They need to feel privileged that they get to feel so close to her, yet not privileged enough to believe they can get away with doing whatever they want. A good balance of fear and zeal makes the best armies.”