A week after Granny Zhu’s fall, an altar was erected in front of the Elder’s Hall that stood taller than the main entrance. It was made of a brilliant sacred white-wood inscribed with intricate symbols. Whenever he lingered on any of them for too long the world became blurry and his head would pound. He pushed the carvings to the edge of his vision while he examined the case that sat atop the altar.
The case was made up of a transparent crystal that seemingly drew in all of the ambient energy nearby, leaving behind a suffocating cold. At the center was a wooden hairpin adorn with a purple columbine. Mareus squeezed the small bundle of incense sticks he brought with him. There was one for each member of his family to help offer a bow and prayer with him in their place.
A total of four sticks. One for himself, and three more for people only slightly closer than strangers thanks to his grandmother’s stories.
“Mind if I join you?”
Grandpa Gin placed his own incense in a bowl next to his. The elder felt older than he did last week, as if far more time had passed for him while the world stood still around Mareus.
They watched the dim glow of her hairpin together, “This altar is older than the rest of the village, you know.”
“Granny never really told me about it.”
“Lady Hua was never one for history lessons. Though, that never stopped her from paying proper respect to our ancestors.”
“With the Celebration of Life?” He asked.
“That’s part of it.” Gin sat off to the side and gestured for Mareus to sit next to him. “You’re what, eight summers old now? How many Celebrations of Life have you experienced by now?”
Mareus thought for a moment. “Only a three or four as far as I can remember. There was one that’s a little fuzzy, I think it might have been for my parents.”
“If you can remember that one, then you should consider becoming a scholar or a storyteller.” He pulled out an ornate red bangle. “Have you noticed any differences between the different festivals?”
“I don’t think so, nothing that stands out. Maybe, the types of food and drinks people make.”
Grandpa Gin removed the bangle from his wrist and slowly twirled around in his fingers, his eyes never leaving the polished stone. “One difference, the main one really, is something like this. Like that too.” He used the bangle to point Gongzhu’s hairpin.
As if on cue, cheers erupted from the warriors hall. The sound drew out a weak smile from Grandpa Gin that barely shifted his wrinkles.
“Come, this will make it easier to understand.” He passed the bracelet to Mareus. “Can you hold onto this for me while we talk?”
Once they opened the doors to the hall, Mareus was assaulted by the stench of liquor mixed with musk and was forced to use his sleeve as a makeshift mask.
“Elder in the hall!” One man shouted.
Those words sobered the warriors enough to face them and salute before realizing which elder had walked in on their celebration.
“Oh, it’s only Gramps!”
“Old Man Gin, come drink with us!”
“When was the last time you stopped by?”
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The warriors who could speak may of had slurred words and bright red faces, but everyone did whatever little they could to still show him respect. Those who could still move on their own would step aside as he passed. For the ones who couldn’t they would be dragged or rolled out of the way.
Mareus sighed. “It’s weird seeing people treat you like an elder.” He kicked a empty cup away only for it to end up cuddling with a napping warrior. “Even if it is just a little.”
“There’s more than one way to show respect. And being overly formal only gets in the way of getting any real work done.” He chuckled before turning to the hall. “I don’t see Little Zhao. I need his help with teaching this brat something.”
The warriors pointed to a corner while some couldn’t help but to let out a few small laughs. Passed out in a crate was a half-naked man wearing his wife’s robes. He was a large man, even when compared to the other warriors he stood at least half a head taller. Despite his choice in clothing, his hundreds of scars gave off the impression of a tiger wearing its colors in reverse.
Grandpa Gin pinched a point on the bottom of Zhao’s foot. The so called tiger’s eyes shot open before he twisted over and vomited to the side of his crate.
“Feeling better, Little Bastard?”
“You better have a good reason for sobering me up you–” Zhao paused with a blank stare, only to finish his thought after recognizing who he was speaking to. “Take it easy on me Old Man, you know better than anyone how if feels to sober up after putting in so much effort. What are you waiting for? At least offer me a hand.”
He easily hoisted the man more than twice his size, the action catching the still drunk Zhao off guard. After stumbling several steps forward he turned back only to be greeted by a cup splashing in his face. Zhao barely finished turning around when he was splashed in the face.
Grandpa Gin smacked the cup he used onto the table. “I wanted to teach this smaller brat something about the festival.”
“...”
“About vessels.” He clarified.
“I see.” Zhao turned to the hall. “Someone bring me something clean that’ll fit!” He looked down to Mareus. “Lady Hua really wasn’t a fan of teaching when it didn’t involve violence. I’ll open the treasury. Follow me.”
Mareus ripped his attention from a drunk dancing around while carefully covering his member with a plate.
The Warrior’s Hall has its own treasury?
The treasury was its own building roughly the size of an one-room guest house. The single entry was filled with an array of locks and bars that required multiple warriors to remove. After several minutes the final bar clanged to the ground and the doors groaned open to reveal a brilliant green that looked like the space was carved from a single piece of jade. Weapons and various accessories lined the walls, including several lower quality pieces that were clearly crafted in their creator’s free time.
Grandpa Gin showed off the room like it was his personal treasure trove. “What do you think?”
“It’s not what I was expecting for a treasury.”
“That depends on your definition of treasure.” Zhao boasted.
“He’s right. There are around one hundred personal tokens for every warrior currently in the village. They will remain here until their owners retire or, by some misfortune, something happens to them.”
“Why did you want to show this to me?” Mareus asked.
“These tokens undergo a change during the Festival of Life and become the icons representing a person’s life. A warrior’s icon serves an additional purpose during the actual celebration.”
Zhao added. “That’s why, the icons of warriors remain in the altar after the festival and the ones for ordinary villagers don’t.”
Mareus wasn’t sure how to respond. He looked around the vault taking in each item before looking back at the two men.
“Lady Hua’s hairpin was her token and the bracelet your holding, is mine. Not all of the elders were once warriors, but our tokens will be treated much in the same way as theirs.”
“Is it because of your importance to the village?”
“Not quite. Our traditions are blind to things like status and age, especially during the final festival of a villagers life.”
“All are equal in death.” Zhao half spoke to himself.
“Mhm, what makes these tokens special is their purpose as vessels.” The elder continued. “Warriors and elders are fundamentally further on the path of cultivation than the rest of the villagers. Because of this the strength of our souls are stronger and will linger in this world for some time.” He knelt down and tapped his bangle in Mareus’ hands. “We use these items to prolong that time a little longer.”
Mareus stared through the core of the accessory, his eyes slowly widening as he seemed to realize something. He passed the item back to Grandpa Gin before racing out of the treasury.
Gin watched as he ran off. “Can you close up shop for me?”
Zhao casually saluted with one arm against his chest. “Of course, Elder.”
The elder smacked the man on the back of the head before walking off. Zhao let out a small smile while still saluting his back.