The captain was unable to find the old bard later that evening, and his ship left with the morning tide. It was several weeks before he returned, and he worried that the old man had left town. As twilight faded into evening, he walked into Brenaed’s Flame. There was three-man acting group on the stage performing Leopold Var’s “Lich Queen of Borden,” and the captain was dismayed to not hear the end of the story. Everyone had heard similar stories, but none with such detail. He looked for a table, and he saw the old man sitting by himself at a back corner table. He was clearly asleep.

The captain sat down and bumped the table, waking the bard with a start. After a few moments to collect himself, the bard said, “So, you have returned. I thought perhaps you did not care for my telling of the deeds of the heroes.”

“I have enjoyed it, but I still have to sail a ship. We can leave a crewman behind, but leaving the captain behind tends to get people hung.”

“I can see that. Would you like me to continue?”

“Yes, I would.”

“My throat is a bit parched. Otherwise I’d be happy to.”

The captain took the obvious hint and ordered drinks. He also ordered them each some Elven lamb stew. After the drinks arrived, the old man asked “Now, where were we?”

“They were just arriving at the Temple of the Font since they were unable to sail through the storm.”

“Yes, the Temple of the Font. It had been occupied by people of all of races and faiths. Though the magic of Abril entered the world mostly through Fey Isle, the common races were not permitted there, so instead they used this connected Font as a place of worship and study. It was quiet, peaceful existence for many years. Unfortunately, when the heroes arrived, it was filled with madness, violence, and unpredictable magic.”

“What changed?”

“The Font is connected to Fey Isle. That is the reason the party came here, but it is also why these people suffered. The Black Coven essentially distorted the source of Abril’s magic to release this plague, and this corruption hit these people during the previous winter solstice. When it was dispersed into the world, it would cause the plague, but concentrated near the source, it twisted the magic and their bodies. They were covered in scales and spells seemed to sprout from them with no effort. Many people died, but others were driven insane. The heroes fought through them to find the font.”

“Were they able to heal them?”

“No, they killed them.”

“They just killed these innocent, peaceful people because they had been driven insane by forces beyond their control? Did they at least try to heal them?”

“No, they slaughtered them. It may sound to you as though they had much choice, but there is little choice to be made when you are attacked by masses of crazy people with clubs. If they tried to heal them, they may have failed, and then we would all be dead.”

“I suppose that makes sense. Still, I thought the paladin might have tried.”

“He didn’t. In any event, they had never visited the Temple of the Font. They searched around, finding the room of the gods along with the ceiling artistry showing they are all one god.”

“Wait, they are one god?”

“Who knows? They simply found the room, and that’s what the art implied. The paladin took the statues of the individual gods as art and the ceiling as truth. Most of the others took the statues as truth and the ceiling as art.”

“That’s vexing.”

“Yes. Perhaps you can complain to your local priest. The heroes journeyed down into the Font and then walked under the Padraic sea. While down there, they fought a group of Subabrilian Basilisks with Sparkflies as they risked getting lost in the caverns. Then they came to the Sentinels.”

“That word sounds familiar. Something about the elements.”

“Yes, it is said that the Sentinels once handled the primal forces as Abril was shaped. They were a myth until the heroes found them near the passage to Fey Isle. It is said they protect and control the elements that define this world, maintaining the balance so no one element overpowers the others.”

“What did they look like?”

“Very large elementals.”

“Thank you. As a captain of a ship, you assuredly know I have encountered many elementals, so now I can picture these Sentinels clearly.”

“Sarcasm does not become you.”

A particularly clever response was interrupted by a Treliman waiter delivering their stews. He offered a wide smile as he set down the bowls and scurried away.

“Just tell me what they look like,” said the captain as he suddenly remembered the food here was terrible.

“They were energies set inside statues of themselves. Each statue was seated upon a throne. When the heroes challenged them, the energies moved out of the statues and took humanoid forms consisting of their corresponding element.”

“And they offered help to the heroes?”

“No, they battled them.”

“WHAT?!?! Why would these Sentinels want to kill the heroes? And if they did, how could the heroes have won?”

“That is indeed a mystery. Perhaps it was a trial. Perhaps the Sentinels wanted to lose. Perhaps this was the only way they could offer the Elemental Pearls that would aid them in combat later. These are forces that exist beyond the understanding of even the gods, so certainly beyond a simple bard.”

“How is this ‘elemental balance’ supposed to be maintained if the Sentinels are dead?”

“Oh, I doubt they are actually dead. I doubt they even have a concept of living and dead.”

“This sounds insane. So what are Elemental Pearls?”

“Swallowing one restores a person and turns them into an elemental for a short time. This could be very effective in a fight.”

“I can imagine. So then what?”

“They journeyed onward and upward towards Fey Isle. They climbed a vertical tunnel. As they approached the surface, they realized that this approach must have been considered by their enemies. Brenkis Renill spoke loudly, telling his loyal followers to let the party approach so they could speak.”

“Why not just throw fireballs down the hole and kill them?”

“We call them the heroes, and we know that they were powerful, resourceful, and dedicated. To Brenkis, they were simply powerful. Turning an enemy into an ally would assure him victory. If they would not turn, he was confident they could be destroyed in moments.”

“How did he attempt to turn them?”

“First, he thought to strike fear into them. He told them his name, and that he was High Wizard to the Beholder of the Rational Stars when he lived 500 years ago.”

“That’s the guy in Lan Sellat, right?”

“Yes, the people of Sellat call their Emperor the Beholder of the Rational Stars.”

“That is a very strange title.”

“It makes more sense there. They have a different interpretation of the gods.”

“So we have many gods, one god, gods that look different depending where you are, and now yet another variation?”

“Yes. They believe that the gods are stars. They know some of their names, but not all of them. Each star is perfect, and it represents a single, pure, rational concept. On Abril, the nexus of the stars… these rational concepts are less clear. It will take a chosen, brilliant man to behold and interpret their collective will. And so the Beholder of the Rational Stars is the emperor.”

“That’s insane.”

“No less than anything else I have told you.”

“That’s fair.”

“Brenkis wanted them to understand how very old he was, and so they would assume quite powerful. He then told them that soon he will be God-King of the Living and the Dead. Then he offered them the Kingdoms of the Dawn Sea if they joined him. And then he threatened them with eternal suffering if they opposed him.”

“That’s actually a pretty convincing offer.”

“Yes, but these heroes would not have come so far if they were susceptible to such things.”

“I know they won, but how did they win?”

“Let me set the stage for you. Clearly, another battle had been fought here. Centaurs and Satyrs were strewn about where they died. The trees in this area had withered. The liches were inside a shield formed by inverted godstones. They had the ability to cast spells outside of it, but no living being nor the spells of the living could get into it. Using yet more godstones, Lontrora’El was being ripped apart into elements on an altar inside the shield. Clearly, this was the distortion that was creating the plague and releasing it into the world. Outside the shield were the living who had sided with the dead. These people had reasoned that they could be powerful in death, and so they did not fear it. They were confident the Black Coven would win out.”

“This sounds grim. Even worse than I thought.”

“Yes, but not all was lost. They fought hard while the liches threw fire and ice at them, and it did appear it was hopeless for them. But they forgot about Jonril.”

“The pseudodragon you mentioned a while ago? I thought he was insane. He said he was a knight, a bard, and an avatar of Berkari. And he never helped out in battles.”

“Yes, that Jonril. He flew up into the air, cast a spell, and shot a ray of fire and ice at the paladin. It exploded on his chest.”

The old bard paused, and the captain knew that was a verbal trap. He was supposed to express shock that Jonril had betrayed the heroes, but clearly that didn’t happen. He decided to remain silent. After several moments, the old bard continued though clearly irritated.

“But of course, this was not betrayal. The ray struck the paladin’s holy symbol, cracking the copper and gold shell to reveal a small godstone within. It flared with brilliant white light, and they were healed and empowered. The telepathic voice of Jonril was no longer his own, but instead like a deep flowing river. He told them to touch it to the other godstones.”

“So Jonril wasn’t insane afterall?”

“He was a total nutter.”

“But he truly was an avatar of Berkari, right?”

“I don’t believe I said that. I don’t know that we will ever truly know what Jonril is, but sane doesn’t make the list of possibilities.”

“I wish you had better answers.”

“Fine. He was actually an ancient gold dragon that was the child of Berkari and Orla disguised as a pseudodragon.”

“Truly? That is amaz—“

“No, not truly. I have no idea. I can either stick to what I know or make things up. You pick.”

“I suppose sticking to the truth is better. So why didn’t the paladin pull out this godstone by himself?”

“He didn’t know he had it.”

“Where’d he get the holy symbol?”

“It’s a bit of a story. Do you want to hear it all?”

“Sure, why not?”

“You may recall I mentioned that a godstone was reported lost at sea on its way to Tel. It was not. It was carried by survivors who managed to find a deserted island and live for several months until they were rescued by a passing ship. The godstone was brought to the temple in Tel. It was decided that to keep it safe, it should be covered in copper and gold and carried by the Archprelate. It was believed that the Archprelate could, if necessary, commune directly with Agnelo. This secret was kept by the faith, but it was kept too well. When Archprelate three after him died, no one knew of the significance. The next Archprelate picked something far more beautiful and gave the hidden godstone to Gormond Connell. His descendant was Logan Connell, and Logan lived in Stonefork.”

Another round of drinks appeared.

“Logan had a sister named Chrissa, and she had a son named Malcom Weir. Her husband was a city watchman in Stonefork, but he died when Malcom was but an infant. Chrissa moved in with her brother, and unfortunately she died in a fire when Malcom was just a young boy. Logan raised the boy himself, but he moved to Shield so he could have some assistance. Of course, he taught him of his faith. Malcom learned from the paladins, and he was accepted as a squire after a few years. When he took his oath, Logan gave him the holy symbol with the godstone hidden inside.

“Years passed, and Malcom became a Captain in the Order of Saint Ramsey, and Logan was a bishop. But Logan must have had some crisis of faith, because he began to wonder whether Agnelo was truly the only god. He was a friendly, open man, and he had become good friends with priests of Yanok and Norayla. In their discussions, he simply wondered about the truth of the gods. Questioning doctrine in private is permitted, but Logan spoke openly about it. The church put Logan on probation.

“Then King Gilfiston Prines of Lorris began gaining power with the help of the priests of Calor. The paladins of Shield and other nations opposed this openly evil king, and Malcom rode out with his men. Gilfiston was defeated, but during this time Logan was unable to remain silent. He was tried for heresy and defrocked. Malcom learned of this just after the battle with Gilfiston, and he led his men with all haste to the Temple of Emerging Truth. They were wounded and exhausted when they were ambushed by soldiers under command of the priests of Calor who did not know the war was over. It appeared they were lost, but passing soldiers of Munir saved them. Malcom wished to thank them, so he gave their commander this gold and copper holy symbol that had suddenly become a reminder of his dishonored uncle. That commander of the Munir soldiers was Willem Morningseeker, Alestair’s father. Later, when sending his son ahead to Shield for safety, he would give him this holy symbol.”

“That’s not a very good story.”

“You’re a real piece of shit.”

“Maybe. So no one for generations knew what was hiding in this thing?”

“No. Later, when the world was saved, Sir Alestair spoke to Sir Malcom. It began to sound a bit like fate.”

“I thought the concept was fate violated the pact of free will.”

“It does. Sometimes things that are coincidence just sound like fate.”

“I see. Let’s get back to the battle.”

“Oh yes. The battle raged. The heroes fell and were brought back with Irminsul’s leaves as well as the Pearls of the Sentinels. Eventually the paladin was able to bring down the shield, and with it the storm wall. Not only could the living now pass the shield, but the dead could not. The liches had not been aware of this possibility. When their bodies were destroyed, the liches’s souls were faint wisps that could not leave. Brother Eisen bashed them with the Aldersalm’s Staff of Destruction, destroying them entirely. Then they managed to free Lontrora’El.”

“What exactly is Lontrora’El?”

“That is hard to pin down. She is the Spirit of Abril, but you probably want to know more.”

“Yes, I do. That is a vague answer. Is she Abril? Are there other Spirits?”

“No, Abril is more than her. But also yes, because she is manifestation of this world. But as to whether there are others… I do not know. I have certainly not heard of them. She took her form of a pixie queen upon a unicorn, and then she expressed her gratitude as a few centaurs came from the wilderness to attend to her. Then she said they should wait for a moment… and then, the gods appeared.”

“Many of them?”

“Yes. All that they believed existed.”

“I guess that made Sir Alestair thoroughly annoyed.”

“They all winked at him in unison. Then they spoke with a single voice, in all the sounds of nature, to compose a melody and harmony of words. Their words were a song of such complexity that it must be impossible for individual entities to perform. Their words were song of Abril. So who knows?”

“This sounds like no one was satisfied.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. If we spend our lives seeking answers, what is the purpose when there is no mystery?”

“I’ll consider that later, but for now, tell me what happened.”

“The gods appeared 20 feet high. Jonril flew over to Berkari and seemed confused about whether Berkari was his master, himself, or what. He said that the mortal servants had aided him in saving the world, and Berkari gave him a little pet. The gods spoke, those present were nearly crushed beneath the beauty. ‘Heroes of Abril, you have triumphed when faced with darkness. You have saved us from our own foolishness. We believed these stones would give us sight into this world while not allowing us to influence its course too strongly, but they were used against us. In this next age, we shall have immortal servants of limited power who will work between the mortal realm and ours. These godstones shall be no more.’ They crushed the godstones.”

“I wondered why we didn’t hear any more about them.”

“Yes. They then said the heroes would be rewarded in this world in the next and that their names would echo through the ages. Eisen the Pious, Sir Alestair the Gallant, Livid the Cunning, Brenaed the Talented, and… and this is where we understand the gods are not all powerful. They asked Renee how he would like to be known. He has gone by Renee Borden, Francois Villon, Forsythe, Brian Hawke, and Michael Fabian. He chose Sir Renee Borden… the Colorful. Then they were all offered rewards of their choosing.”

“I heard about this part. I can’t imagine having the gods ask me what I wanted.”

“Renee was the first to answer. He wanted a ship, which he called the Barbarian Parrot. It was by far the most practical since they would need to leave Fey Isle at some point, and the gods said that it was tied up by the shore. Brenaed was the next, and he simply asked that his father be made aware of his deeds.”

“Wait, who is his father?”

“Lord Saoi Claiomh, Order of Saint Tibrus, Commander of the Wall. He is third in command of the Swords of Agnelo.”

“I missed that part.”

“He probably makes more sense now.”

“Yes, I can imagine. So what did the paladin ask for?”

“He asked that Sword and Shield be united in faith.”

“That seems like a tall order. Can the gods even do that?”

“No. They can do what they can, but it will be up to the people to make their own choices.”

“And Eisen?”

“He asked for a new temple to Perina.”

“Livid?”

“She asked that all elves know their history, and that they find a way to unify as one people again.”

“I don’t know much about elves, but that seems unlikely.”

“It does. The gods have done what they can, but again, it will be up to them.”

“What happened next?”

“Sir Alestair was assaulted by a small green dragon. Nogi had been flying around the storm, and finally could come in when it dropped. He was prepared to help, but he wasn’t very fast. Then the gods constructed the Monument to the Heroes of Abril. You have seen other versions of this, I am sure, but the original is on Fey Isle at the point of the battle. Unfortunately, that means few can see it, so the gods also made others throughout the world. The original reads ‘It was here on the 35th day of Summer’s Breadth in the year 385 BE that the Heroes of Abril – Sir Alestair the Gallant, Livid the Cunning, Brenaed the Talented, and Sir Renee Borden the Colorful – Along with Nagthir, Rosenfeld, Glory, and Divine Jonril – Defeated the Black Coven, Destroyed the Red Plague, and Saved Abril.’”

“It seems odd that gods made statues.”

“The fey certainly weren’t going to sculpt stone.”

“That seems fair. So then what?”

“For a time, the real Jonril flew over to the statue of Renee and slept around his shoulder. But eventually the heroes made their way down to the shore to find the Barbarian Parrot. They set sail for the south with suspiciously perfect weather. Off the port flew one small green dragon, and off the starboard was a small flying maple tree.”



“So how have all of these requests worked out?”

“Sir Renee’s was easy, and I mentioned how they all made their way to the ship. It was a beautiful three-masted schooner tied up just off shore and a beached rowboat. It was painted brilliant colors of red, green, and blue… and some tiger stripes across the stern. You may know that he continued sailing the seas. In the years that followed he would call himself a pirate, even the scourge of the seas. The truth is he never got around to actual piracy and instead found himself helping stranded ships, transporting dignitaries, enjoying the seas with his fellow heroes from time to time, and eventually even fighting off other pirates to save merchant vessels. He was literally the worst pirate… and beloved by all sailors.

“Brenaed’s father, Lord Claiomh, was visited by a bard named Leopold Vars within just a few days. After their evening meal, the bard performed a saga. He announced before that a pixie had come to him and told him this story, and it seemed confirmed by his own experience. It was the tale of the heroes. It was about removing vampires from the temple of Pilato. It was about saving Irminsul (though some details were excluded), it was about battling the ghosts in Cora’Tor’Dara and finding the grove of Aldersalm, it was about searching the ruins of Jover Hill, it was about putting a ghost at ease by saving his children, it was about a crazy psueodragon and an airship, it was about saving unicorns, it was about the Spirit Tree, it was about fighting the Black Coven to save the world, and it was about so much more. The bard spoke and sang for hours, and the paladins sat and listened with unwavering attention. At the end of the tale, which did not occur until nearly dawn, when the heroes asked for their righteous reward, and Brenaed asked only that his father knew of these events, Lord Claiomh broke down into tears. Weeks later, when Brenaed would come visit his father in Sword, he held a banquet in his honor… and he told his son that he understood now that not all warriors fight with a sword. He was proud of his son and ashamed of himself, but Brenaed forgave him.

“After some time reconnecting, Brenaed started his own school for sorcerers. He made his students aware of the darker side of magic, but he also taught them how to defeat it. His students were taught the moral issues of power before being shown how to use it. As you know, his school has quickly grown, and is a power in its own right.

“Brother Eisen found the funds to begin construction of a new temple. He decided to start construction in Lorris, a land that was still in ruin from constant wars. At the crossroads where they had passed so many times, he laid the first stone himself. Admittedly, he did not lay any more. He was of course the High Priest of the temple, and he named it ‘The Temple of a Journey to Remember.’ The temple was dedicated to the journeys undertaken by these heroes and so many more. Their travels were shown in murals and tapestries throughout the temple so that none may forget what happened. It even included a special shrine to their horses. This temple brought some stability to the region, and through time hopefully all of Lorris will heal.

“Livid’s request was perhaps the most difficult from the perspective of the gods. An elf appeared at each major settlement of elves. Each had a different name, but they all claimed that the book they carried was given to them by Leti herself in a dream, and that she also explained the meaning and intent. In it, they said, was the history of all elves. Any reader could see that no elven people were without sin, that all could forgive and be forgiven. Through understanding the perspectives of others, they might find peace. And, in time, perhaps the frost elves could be… unfrozen, I guess. This has had some effect already. Many elves have embraced this history, though of course many deny it entirely. Still, elven leaders have begun speaking to each other, and that is a promising start.”

“So what was in this history of elves.”

“I don’t know. Ask an elf.” (See other post)

“You’re a terrible bard.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I know. So what happened to Livid herself?”

“You might think she was set to take a leadership role in her people, but that was not her nature. She had an amulet to let her endure the heat of the south, and so she became an envoy to other elves. She mostly did this with just Nagthir. She never truly understood the ways of these softer people to the south, but she learned to appreciate them between her long journeys of solitude. She would often appear to catch a ride on the Barbarian Parrot, or to visit the paladin on her way from her home to the southern lands. It is said she often travels the wild lands alone, seeking out the smaller tribes to teach them the histories herself.”

“And what about Sir Alestair?”

“For humans, this was the most difficult reward. The paladins of Shield sent envoys to Sword, but they were generally met with disdain. Years passed, and Sir Alestair eventually became the Lord Commander of Order of Saint Ramsey. He understood the request he had asked of the gods was not one they could fulfill, and that it was up to him. He gathered his paladins and made the long journey south. There he had his men hold back as he approached the fortress of Sword. He laid down his sword and shield, which caught the sun and shone green. He took off his helm to show his slightly greyed hair and set it by his shield. Then he knelt, and said ‘I killed Lieutenant Dorrin Shaw, Sir Bennet Timist, Sir Garret Soltin, and Sir Francin Lang, and Sir Sam Ponnack. I submit myself for trial.’ After several minutes, some awestruck soldiers came out and took him into custody. Priests and lords of both orders were the jury for this trial that lasted for nine days. Lord Alestair spoke in his own defense, but denied none of his actions. He explained all that had happened with Irminsul and why. Witnesses were presented for both sides. In the end, the unanimous decision was that those men should have been punished for their crimes, but Lord Alestair’s mistake was doing so in private. And for such an action, he was sentenced to 50 lashes. He endured them without crying out. It is important to understand the gods or god cannot influence a man’s mind, so this verdict was determined by these men. After the sentence was carried out, the healing began. These two factions are now closer than they have ever been, but we never know whether it will endure.”

“Wow. I can’t believe he confessed. No one ever knew about it.”

“He knew. It may have been justified at the time, but he could not keep that secret later.”

“So what was the fallout of this whole thing?”

“The terrible cost is that about 10% of the population died from the Red Plague. Each day it lasted, it took more. Even when the heroes destroyed it, most of those already infected still died. This plague affected all sentient races, and it will take a long time to recover. For the gods, they learned their mistake of relying on simple objects to peer into our world. Instead, they began using immortal servants. Each god now has angels, demons, devils, or some other sort of being that can journey between the realms of the gods and the realms of mortals. This change has also allowed more magic to be present in our world, and that is why we now say we are living in the Second Age.”

“When did the first age start?”

“In the beginning.”

“When was that?”

“I don’t know. Ask an elf.”

“Fine, I get it. That’s a pretty good story. Is any of it true?” the captain laughed.

“Does it matter?”

The captain looked surprised at that answer to his little joke, but then said, “No, I don’t suppose it does.”

“Good. Thank you for dinner. Feel free to tell anyone you meet about this story.”

The old man got up and walked outside. It was well past midnight, and Brenaed’s Flame was the still quite crowded. He enjoyed the cool air in Seafield for a moment before lighting his pipe. He laughed at the idea that he had to pretend to be his own grandson. He thought of his only son, the weaver, who was lost in the Red Plague, dying without children. Llewyn Cosgrove was truly the last Troubadour… and he was long dead.

He had a strong suspicion he wasn’t acting the way that an immortal servant taken from the realm of the dead was supposed to act, but he could not put his finger on why. He believed he was chosen by Tilnas to be a servant, and he was certain he was supposed to travel the land and tell stories of all that has happened, but in hindsight he wondered whether he was also supposed to take payment for his services. After some consideration, he decided that he was right to take it because a bard who works for free would be too suspicious.

He smoked his pipe for several minutes before dumping it out and putting the pipe in his pouch. Then he took a deep breath, hummed a little tune, and faded away as the golden notes drifted on the evening breeze.