The sun brings light,

But makes the night darker,

He pours warmth upon the earth,

But makes the winter harder to endure.

But every night,

There's still a moon hanging over the horizon.

Bring a clear place to shine your eyes,

To drive away the cold of loneliness.

Moonport City

The steel pearl of the North,

Bearing the honor of God Greafury,

The cradle of the moon.

White sails come from afar,

Through the storm and the storm,

Through endless loneliness and suffering,

In the moonlight,

And sailed home to the haven.

---------- The works of a crappy bard.

The Post

Blasares Landmass, Holy Greafury Empire, north, Moonport City, twenty kilometers to the east. 

Noon.

The sun is a generous being, never sparing to spread its light and warmth on the earth, even 

though it is autumn.

Near an inn by the road, a few lazy donkeys were drinking in the grass, their bells ringing 

softly in the occasional gust of wind.

A boy held a handful of black beans in both hands and secretly threw them into the donkey's 

trough. He stirred the beans with his hands, covered them with the straw that was left inside, 

and said to the little donkey, "You must eat well and grow up quickly."

It was an ordinary post on a common street in the holy Greafury Empire. In normal times, the 

master of the station would plant fruits and vegetables in his own field behind it and take care 

of them; Then put some sheep on the side of the hill, and kept chickens and pigs in the pen; 

And when a visitor came, the bells fastened to the doorframe would ring and ring. He would 

rush from the back fields into the lobby and enthusiastically sell home-grown fruits and 

vegetables, home-brewed cider and delicious roast meat to those who stopped by.

Their hope was that a generous visitor would tip them enough to send their children to the 

temple's learning institutions, where they would learn not only how to read and write, but 

also the knowledge necessary to become priests, and thus rise to the top.

It was early days, however, for the little boy in the family was only seven. Now he was playing 

in the fields without worry and enjoying the wonder of everything in the world.

At the inn, the boy had seen many travelers, some of whom he could not remember clearly, 

some of whom were still fresh in his memory. He had heard from his parents about the long 

ears of elves and the beards of dwarves. But he was young then, and he had only a vague 

impression of them.

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But the boy, leaning over the well to fetch water, believed that he had never seen the man 

sitting under the tree.

The maple tree that his father's father had planted when he was born had turned into a huge 

red umbrella, and in the hot autumn sun it became the little boy's favorite playground. He 

often hung from the thick branches and looked at the road leading far away.

Now, on a stone slab under the tree, sat a man in a black and purple robe, which covered 

almost every inch of his skin. Only one hand showed its cuffs, and one hand slowly turned a 

large book which lay on his knee. The other hand held a long quill pen and wrote on the 

paper.

The boy stared curiously at the robe of the mysterious creature, which was embroidered with 

waves and planets. As he moved, the patterns seemed to come to life, changing their patterns. 

Curious, the child came to his side.

"Uncle, your clothes are so interesting!"

The man in black looked at the little boy sitting next to him. "Are they interesting?"

Then the boy saw what the man in black looked like. To his disappointment, there was nothing 

unusual about the man's face, just an ordinary human being. The only thing that surprised 

him was that in the eyes of the black-robed man there seemed to be a speck of starlight 

shining through his dark pupils, as if he had stolen all the stars from the night sky and hidden 

them in his eyes.

"My name is Alfred, Uncle. What's yours?" The boy also sat down on the stone slab next to 

the man in the black robe.

"My name is Vincent. Don't call me uncle, little man. I'm not that old. Just call me by my first 

name or my brother. ' The man in the black robe closed his book and smiled at Alfred.

"That's right! Brother Vincent, aren't you a bard? Have you traveled a lot?" The little boy never 

understood what the man in front of him did. He wasn't wearing any armor, he wasn't even 

carrying a weapon, and he wasn't carrying any of the sacred arms of the temple -- the boy's 

father had been telling Alfred stories about the temples and what the different arms meant 

from an early age.

"I have certainly been to many places," said Alfred. Vincent looked up at the sun through the 

red leaves. "Alfred, why do you ask me if I am a bard?"

"I want to hear stories, and every time I want to hear stories about the bards who pass by the 

post, my father makes me work in the backyard." "Said Alfred, his mouth crooked." He won't 

let me hear stories."

"Your father didn't want you to venture out too early." Vincent sighed softly. "What story do 

you want to hear?"

'I want to hear about elves and dwarves.' Alfred clapped his hands happily.

"And have you ever seen dwarves and elves?"

"Well, my mother says I have, but I really can't remember." The boy scratched the back of his 

head and looked embarrassed.

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Vincent smiles and croons in a low voice. He points his finger at the empty space in front of 

him.

Alfred followed his hand and saw an apparition of a genie emerging from it. The elven shape, 

which had been vague in his memory, suddenly became clear.

It was the figure of an elven warrior woman with a long bow: her straight green hair fell over 

her bare white shoulders, and her blue eyes were fixed on the boy whose mouth was open in 

surprise; There was a smile on her lips, and her neat white teeth peeped out from under her 

fresh red lips; Her figure was slender, but the firm muscles of her calves showed that she was 

a nimble and agile character; The exquisitely wrought leather merely encloses her body, 

showing off her curves; The purse was cut sleeveless so as to extend the range of motion of 

her shoulders while shooting, with lotus arms hanging gently at her sides and slender fingers 

playing with the bell hanging from her thigh -- but no sound came.

"Well, then, there is the elf," said he. 'said Vincent, smiling.

The boy ran to the standing spirit, who smiled back at him.

"Hello, ah... I'm Alfred. What's your name?" The boy stretched out his hand to shake the spirit 

who had appeared out of thin air.

But it was clear that he could only touch air.

"Alfred, come and sit down. What else would you like to see?"

The boy obviously did not understand what was going on. Why was the spirit in front of him 

looking but not touching it? But the desire to see something else soon made him forget the 

question.

'I want to see the bearded dwarves! "Said the boy, running his hand over his chin to show 

Vincent how big the dwarf's beard should be.

The black-robed man moved his hand through the air, his fingers dancing as if they were 

playing on the strings of a violin. The spirit in front of them grew shorter and dimmer. In a 

moment a stout dwarf, five feet tall, stood before them.

It was a bearded dwarf indeed: from his ears, down his temples, down his chin, and down his 

chest, there was a great brown and red beard. But within his shaggy, untidy beard hung plaits 

-- braids made from the beard, and bound together with strips of blue or grey cloth. The 

gnomes' large mouths were completely hidden by their beards, and only an enormous nose 

prevented them from climbing any further. His large callused hands stroked his drooping 

beard, and his eyes narrowed with crow's feet, looking at the boy with a kind smile.

"Whoaa! Good!" Alfred looked at the dwarves. "Can you show me what halflings look like? 

My mother and father say they're always like little children."

For Vincent, it's just a matter of moving his fingers.

Then, for the rest of the day, on the way to Luna, under a maple tree covered with red leaves, 

before a stone slab where two persons, one and the other, were seated, came the famous 

creatures of the land of Blasares. From the birds that fly in the sky to the ancient dragons that 

have lived for generations in their caves; Not only angels with holy radiance, but also demons 

of hell whose bodies burn with black flame...

The little boy opened his eyes wide, not wanting to miss the wonder before him. He clapped 

his hands repeatedly and cheered joyfully as the creatures appeared before him.

"Brother Vincent, that..." "What does a master look like?" asked Alfred timidly.

"Why do you want to know what a mage is like?"

"Because, my father said, they were terrible, and they had great powers but they didn't care 

about human life," Alfred thought back. "Every time I tried to follow a traveler on an adventure 

somewhere, my father always said the mage came back and took me and ate me. I know he's 

trying to scare me, but I wonder what the mages are like."

"Do you like to have adventures, my child?"

"Yes, I want to see the outside world, I want to know what lies beyond this post road, and 

where it will lead me..."

"Would you like to go out even if the mage would take you away and eat you?"

"Yes, one day I'll go and see the Elves' cities for myself, and taste the difference between 

dwarven wine and mine, and see if halflings are always that tall, and ask dragons what they 

dream of when they sleep, and, of course, see what wizards look like. By the way, Brother 

Vincent, you still haven't told me what a mage looks like."

"Mages, they..." Vincent thought for a moment. "When you grow up, and one day you go out 

on an adventure, you will see what the wizards look like. I won't tell you now."

'Oh, what a fool, he won't let me see it at the end...' Disappointment was on the boy's face.

Vincent looked at the sun. It was slowly beginning to sink, and his radiant orb was already 

meeting the distant mountains.

"Alfred, I must hurry now. Perhaps we shall meet again some day."

'Are you going away now, and will not stay with us for another night? I do like your stories. '

"No, I have an appointment to make."

"Then wait a minute..." The boy ran into the room and after a while brought out a water bag.

"Here's some cider we make, well, the unwatered kind. Thank you for telling me the story for 

so long."

Vincent took the water bag, took out a ring and gave it to the boy, "I made it myself. It's not 

worth anything. Just consider it a little toy for you.

So Vincent set out on his way and soon disappeared at the end of a distant post road.

Alfred looked at the ring in his hand. It was silver and white, with a spiral pattern and strange 

characters. He put it carefully in his pocket and watched Vincent's back as he passed away. "I 

shall be a great adventurer someday. I shall meet wizards and have them tell me the most 

wonderful stories."