Chapter 29: Songs Unsung
“There are no magicians, not anymore.”
That was the first line Skaldi read without making any mistakes. Early in the morning, the redhead combed through his stolen goods from Fort Jao and found a book. ‘The Chronicles of Valentine’ was everything an amazing comic book could be to Skaldi. Punk and yet cute. Packed full of pages with each drawn and colored in a fantastic art style, he knew it was a story unlike any other.
He wished to share it with Bolato, but ended up being too fascinated with it. In his mind, that phrase stuck with him. That phrase made him forget about the brutal headache coming from his wound in his face.
“There are no magicians, not anymore.” Skaldi repeated the line to himself. He didn’t know what it meant, but he believed it was important. He was right.
Skaldi shifted his hips as if he were sitting in a chair. He learned to read from the prostitutes, he learned the technic of sounding out the letters then finding their meaning with context clues. He felt the presence of Ponteni, her soft and timid voice. Almost magical.
My dear student, now I must tell you the truth, as heartbreaking as it really is.There were never really people who could command magic. That is the domain of the divine. In spirits and monsters. At best we mortals can use Soul Gems to make tiny miracles. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Yet, these beliefs are important, even if they aren’t true. Magic, in my opinion, is the art of the Soul made manifest.
Can we make change with art?
Can we make change with a question?
If you say yes, then magic only, and I mean only, exists in the interactions one has. That is magic enough for me.
And I know there are quite a few of you hoping that, say, a scarecrow might be capable of blowing up people with magic. Luckily for me and sadly for you, that isn’t a possibility.
But for Skaldi and the story, magic means more than simple explosions. It means power. It means might. It means the power to do what's right.
“There are no magicians, not anymore. What does that mean?” Skaldi interrogated the comic. The dark hours of the morning couldn’t shake his drive to find out. Steadily, the elf set out and explored the dynamic world of the comic book. Only the incoming rain motioned him to another room, with him heading down into the lower deck.
Wooden and smelling of powderized salt, the lower deck included the storage of equipment and food. Candles held in cheap metal lamps swung everytime a big wave hit the ship. Brown and orange lights made the entrance and the doors visible, but everything else was in a dark purple shadow. Sitting down quickly so that he could continue his reading, Skaldi didn’t notice the surprised Florato.
“Hey… Skaldi?” Florato waved awkwardly.
“OH! What are you doing here?” Skaldi leaped back. She held out her guitar and a script for a song.
“I’m teaching Vega how to play?”
“Yep, and she’s doing good-good.” Vega learned from behind Florato, waving with joy.
“Right. Well, don’t disturb me.” Skaldi said coldly, making sure that they both didn’t see the comic book he was holding. Florato shrugged and returned to instructing Vega on how to play.
“Are ya sure that Ren will like the song?”
“Yeah. Everyone loves music, so I doubt he won’t. Just remember to play it quietly, let him sleep.” Florato remained, pointing to Ren’s calm resting position within the tub. Three awake, four asleep, all together in the Pinnace. For some reason, Skaldi’s skin couldn’t feel the frost of the air. The pictures, the words, the images. All of it was a fireplace for his aspirations.
The one who stroked and nurtured this flame of story was Valentine. Skaldi delicately admired her, as one admires a hero. Bloodthirsty, yes, but a woman that cared.
Now I have to tell you a most funny secret my dear student. What Skaldi does via the act of reading a story, is called untethering. Stories are the beliefs people give each other. Certain stories, much like beliefs, are the familial and societal artifacts we inherited and our descendants will inherit.
My father sitting at my bedside when I was but a babe, shoveled into my mind stories of court. How one must navigate its politics and sail with the winds of persuasion. Believing that I would rule and was destined to preside over subjects. He was right.
This story tied me to an image of myself. That which defined my life then and now. Tethering to a story, I had but one dimension to look at myself for a long time.
Who was your first friend? When you put on your shoes tomorrow, how will it sound? The last time you took a drink of water, how did it feel on your tongue?
To answer these questions you must unstick yourself from time. Your body might be standing or walking, but your mind untethers, like a bubble floating to whatever you're imaging or remembering.
Such mental voyages take the senses across time and space, and sometimes, if you’re lucky, you’re actually there. By imagining, you experience. By experiencing, you believe. By believing, you think you know.
In its own academic way, untethering is a real magic. It allows us to anticipate mistakes we haven’t made and navigate situations we’ve never faced. How can I shoot the rabbit and skin it for dinner? When should I plant my crops? What do I do?
You craft different worlds in those short moments and when that world comes to be, you’re ready. Senses are the tools that create these worlds, and stories are the dirt.
The more you take yourself across worlds, the better you understand what other people think and feel. You make distant others feel less distant and caring for them is less difficult.
Skaldi hadn’t been given the right to multiple stories. Kill the Iozians, protect the spirits, and Serve the Galtians. Untethering, breaking free, is Skaldi’s funny and dumb magic. I shouldn’t say that… sorry.
He glued himself to those fifteen pages of the five hundred page comic. Naturally, Skaldi’s understanding of the Iozian script and alphabet wasn’t too great. And yet the redhead didn’t feel weak. He was trapped by the walls of the comic, he was climbing them. Faded pink paint on the pages colored a world full of outsiders. A world of people yet unknown. Power yet unleashed.
Valentine was a criminal. Well, that is what she was to my knowledge. I really don’t want to reduce Skaldi’s changing perspective of the world into a trivial event, but I can’t help it. Nor did the book. It was unapologetic about how the hero of the story was a criminal. A thief to be specific. It’s abnormal to see such a story not hide this fact. Perhaps not to the student reading this from the future, but stories depicting criminals in an empathic light is a rarity.
This truth couldn’t bother Skaldi. Bolato had always looked at comics full of comedy and righteous Oligarchs and aristocrats. Yet, in the unmasked art of Valentine, there was a thief. There was someone who didn’t play by the rules. There, in this comic, was Skaldi.
“Valentine… she’s kind of cool. I guess…” Skaldi spoke, with him saying it as realization rather than an opinion.
Drawn to enlist a feminine shape, Valentine is made into a gorgeous person. Long flowing pink hair, teeth neat and clean, along with a lost fang that enlisted Skaldi to touch his own lost tooth.
The vampire Valentine instead of relying on brute force used tricks and distractions to gain the edge in whatever combat she encountered. Her very introduction is with her mimicking the cry of a baby, making a shopkeeper forget to protect their merchandise. Parody of others is what gets her out of being caught.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Smoke and bursts of flame coming from her hands were her abilities when fighting. In reality, Valentine probably only used some smoke bombs and firecrackers or whatever.
“Maybe…” Skaldi thought he did have similar interest in herbs and how they can be used. If he were to create complex smoke bombs, he’d have an advantage. Perhaps he could use it when they get to the Lai Bank.
Sadly, that idea came to a quick end when…
God damn it! There’s no way of putting this in kind terms… the artist seems to have really, and I mean really, emphasized the size of Valentine’s boyfriend’s… parts. Like… really big and way too much that it couldn’t be pleasing to the senses.
Did I forget to mention that the comic is part erotic? And I mean juvenile erotic, not the good stuff. Not only this, the artist also made her titties bigger than her head. This isn’t justifiable just because it’s in another art style. The person who drew this had an understandable but very gross obsession with the size of the meaty bits.
Then again, it gave the elf a better understanding of anatomy.
“Wait… girls don’t have balls?!” Skaldi exclaimed.
“What?”
Florato and Vega had a look of clear disapproval and confusion. Like… really fucking confused.
“N-nothing. It’s nothing…” Skaldi stuttered out, trying to return to those early and heartwarming pages.
“Right then… Well Vega, you think you got the song down?” The actress questioned.
“Kinda? I got the rhythm down, but it's not a song-song yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“A song without a voice is just noise.” Florato lowered her eyes in disappointment. “Not that songs without lyrics aren’t bad. It’s just… this song needs someone to sing it.”
“I understand. But we’re only practicing playing the strings.”
“I know. I feel that the song is missing them. It’s isn’t complete. It isn’t right-right.”
“Sorry Vega, I just don't know how to sing.” The actress rubbed her head in mild embarrassment. “Let’s begin again, okay?” She squeezed the scarecrow’s shoulder.
“Alright.” Vega's eyes and brows lifted up before she put her hands on the guitar.
Starting slow, Florato strummed three strings on the guitar followed by two gentle knocks on the body of it. Vega followed suit. Three strings. Two knocks. Three strings. Two knocks.
“Faster now.” Florato whispered. The three strings were plucked faster, from the third to the first. And the knocks deeper. Vega followed again, copying the actress’s movements. Attitude and cool, that was the meaning of the song right now. WIthout out the lyrics, their playing was very uplifting, which made the soundtrack for Skaldi’s reading.
Soon enough, both the actress and the scarecrow’s eyes were closed and no more instruction was needed. Vega, even though playing this song you had to be at least a novice, mastered it. Images and pictures roamed both their minds as their souls were unified in song. However, Vega was the one who manifested words.
The scarecrow stood up and sung her heart out.
“ONE TWO THREE FOUR!” Vega rocketed up, startling Skaldi and Florato. For a moment, the actress fumbled her strings but quickly got back on track. Florato looked up at Vega.
“I do not breathe. I cannot feel!” Shuffling fast on her feet, Vega danced around, bouncing as she did.
“I do not care which one is real!” Spinning like leaves in the wind, Vega swirled. Florato recognized that singing voice before.
“Your will to live. Put to the test! What separates you from the rest.” The scarecrow opened one eye, giving a cheeky glance at Skaldi, who was both hyped and very much concerned.
“I’m stronger now.” Vega closed her eyes again, completely engaged in playing and singing the song.
“You cannot win.” Her hay hair majestically bobbed up and down with each word she cried out. Vega’s eyes shined like the moon, but they didn’t project or become entranced by an unseen force. Vega was in complete control of her emotions.
“Against the evil that’s within.” Her smile was that of a tender drawing that a child would make. Heartwarming and nostalgic of a more innocent time. For both the actress and elf.
“No blood to bleed. No bones to break. Now let’s see HOW MUCH CAN YOU TAKE!” Frightening with its great pitch and beauty, Vega’s voice raised to a pleasing and albeit irritating volume.
“There’s nowhere to run. There’s nowhere to hide!” Vega slid forward on her knees and stopped just in front of Skaldi.
“How do you KILL WHAT’S NOT ALIVE?!” Skaldi gave an instinctive smile as pushed himself up against the wall.
“Born into godhood. Coming for you and I can never stop!”
“Stop!” Florato exclaimed.
“Okay.” Vega listened and ceased. Florato gently took away Vega’s guitar and laid it in a case. The actress’s mouth opened in an ‘O’ shape, with her eyes forced open. Skaldi's eye looked up and down at Vega, taking all of her form in. When she completed her performance, he didn’t feel the aching in his. Was this the idiot scarecrow he knew, Skaldi thought.
A wet clapping was heard. Everyone turned to see Ren awake and in a pleasant mood.
“~Nice!~”
“What the fuck was that?” Florato bent forward and laughed. She then raised Vega by her head and rubbed her face into her bag head. “That was so good!”
“Eh. I wouldn’t know.” Vega shrugged and snickered.
“Wait wait wait!” Florato's face went back to neutral as her voice showed some kind of realization. “You’re the one that sung that song back in Xinyuai!”
“The lullaby?” Vega didn’t know the significance of her singing to the actress after she fainted.
“Yes! That was you.” Florato cheered and squeezed Vega tight.
“Cool.”
“That’s more than cool! Vega, you have talent!”
“Cool... What’s talent?” The scarecrow had no education of the word.
“Like… a gift! That you’re good at something and can be amazing at it!”
“...so?”
“So?! Vega! You’re… awesome!” With that, the actress created a new feeling in Vega. Not like a sensation. Not a vague feeling of fear or anger. Precise and pinpoint. Florato and her friendship with Vega culminated a great thing for every sentient being to have. The scarecrow got a faintest feeling of pride.
“Cool-cool… So do ya guys need help now?”
“Oh my gods!” Skaldi shook his head and closed his comic. “Goddamn it. Here I thought she was actually intelligent.” The redhead walked over and shook Vega a little.
“~What’s going on?~” Ren questioned, very much puzzled by their unhappiness and disappointment on their faces.
“Shut up Skaldi.” Florato's eyes lowered, with her disappointed that Vega still didn’t manifest any willpower. She always listens to commands and that’s the problem. She can conflict with people, sure, but never disobeys her friends. Ones real and imaginary.
“I’m glad that I have-have talent. I bet it feels warm.” Vega giggled as Florato’s eyes sulked and her lips pressed together as she tried to ask a question.
“Vega… you feel things… right?”
“Well of course!”
“Then… why aren’t you responding the right way?”
“What do ya mean?” Vega's smile didn’t show any concern. She was only happy to be there.
“Well…With the way you responded, you kind of dismissed it. Like you didn’t do that. YOU did that.” Florato pointed at her hands. The actress wanted to show Vega that she could be happy about more than just ‘helping people’. She could have esteem for herself and what she earned.
“I’m not! It’s just…” Vega started to piece together what Florato was trying to say. She knew the look from her eyes. “I feel accomplished with… people. And if I don’t help people then… it’s not-not really enough. Being useful… Do ya understand?” She knew that someone wanted her to have a life outside of others. For some reason, she didn’t quite remember who gave the look. Florato took in a long breath and put a hand on the shoulder of the scarecrow.
“Vega. You’re more than enough.”
“...wow! Thanks Florato.” A real joy came out of that moment, with Vega giving off a smile that showed absolute authenticity.
Skaldi felt a tad alone with the two engaging with one another, so he went to leave for the upper deck. Beforing taking the stairs up, he turned his head back at the two. They cared about each other, in that magical way friends do. Skaldi wished he could have some of that magic, for his friends and himself too.
Bolato jumped out and landed onto the main deck, armored and sword in hand. Even with his weakened eyesight, Skaldi knew a terror was approaching.
“Everyone move! The Tripolians are on us!”