Chapter II

A Day in the Village with a New Friend

Archanon’s room was plain and simple. The only objects in the room were a small bed in the far left corner near a narrow window and opposite of the bed was a Maple wardrobe. Inside this wardrobe were two neatly fold robes. One robe was made of simple white linen. The other robe was woven of midnight blue satin with sliver embroidered stars. “I must be dreaming,” he thought in excitement. He tried all manners he could think of to awaken himself.  He thought the moment to put faith with reality of this mysterious event; it would fade away like a fog and reveal a bare field  under the scorching sun. Archaon finally ceased trying to wake himself and concluded that if it was a dream it was a good one, and he would journey through it.  He finished looking over his empty room, which also include a small study desk at the foot of the bed. Archaon also noticed two elaborately carved brackets mounted on the same wall as the wardrobe. He guessed these brackets would hold his future staff.  Archaon lied down on his bed, he almost decided to take a nap because the bed was so much more comfortable compared to the straw floor in the peasant shack.

Archaon left his room and explored many hallways covered with stain glass windows, dusty closets, and high vaulted ceilings before he came to a winding column of stairs. It was the only stair case he had ever walked in his life and seemed endlessly long, but when he reached the top he saw the surroundings of the castle.  He looked at all the many turrets of the castle, then he noticed to the left of the castle was a large oak forest; probably filled with boars, deer, fowl, and other hunting game. Breaking apart from the castle main road was small winding roads that appeared to lead to a small village in the middle of a rolling hillside. “Ahhh, looks like we have another new student exploring the castle, but on his own! Enjoying the view are you?” Archaon nodded yes. “I’m Sylvan the castle’s librarian and scribe.” Sylvan was a tall, thin man, but had a kind face and gentle hands. “May I go to the village,” asked Archaon? Archaon did not expect to be allowed to go. “Yes, but you must take Tristana here with you.” Sylvan indicated to a girl standing behind him. She was dressed in a blue robe similar to his white one. “Here is five sliver marks (marks was what I originally had, the writing was scratchy because I kept writing stuff like denari, shekels and the like and then changing it) each; in case you find something in the village you want, but spend it wisely. So Archaon and Tristana left the castle and walled down the road to the village.

By the time Archaon and Tristana were nearing the village they had become fast friends. They had so much time that told each other their life’s story, from as far back as they could remember to the time they met each other with Sylvan on the castle’s turret.

Tristana’s tale was about her scavenging experiences. She lived in an alley most of the time. She was always locking picking and sneaking around. She frequently took on disguises; and once she snuck into Roderick the Wealthy’s treasury chamber pretending to be a guard assistant, after out witting and befuddling the guard and convincing the guard of her false purpose.

            Archaon’s life story was similar in one or another, like the many times he had to smuggle food for him and the other peasants to keep them from starving.  Though not as grand he had done a similar feat by snatching roast mutton during the land owner’s supper from under the landowner’s very nose!  A fellow peasant distracted the land owner by calling his mother a weasel and him and a dangerously fat ferret and then dashing of be fore the scullery maid could catch him.

Archaon (who had crawled under the dinning table) took the opportunity and reached up from under the table and snatched the roast mutton of the landowner’s platter.

But his location was revealed, for when he saw the flustered expression on the landowner’s face seeing his supper mysteriously gone, he could not suppress his laughter and soon there was an earnest game of “cat and mouse” between Archaon and the scullery maid….the mouse won.

            Once Archaon and Tristan had entered the village they were completely battered by all the different types of smells, sights, and sounds as well as the swarm of people covering the streets. Archaon and Tristana heard the clanging of a smith hammering iron with iron. They slowly weaved their way through the dense crowd heading toward the sound of the smith. When they finally arrived to the black smith’s shop they saw a young apprentice filing away at a hoe’s blade. When the apprentice noticed them he called behind him over the sound of the clanging hammer “Master Conan!” The clanging ceased and a sweaty smith came out to see them. “May I interest you two into some of my works younglings,”Archaon asked, “Is there anything you would recommend to us; we are new students at the wizard school.” “Well,” the black smith began, “I have a set of knives and        daggers on this table here, and over there in that corner is some trinkets you might take a   fancy too. While Tristana was toying with a whimsical trinket, Archaon scanned over the skillfully crafted daggers. While scanning the daggers his eyes came across a dagger that had a hilt in the form of a dragon; the dragon’s head was the dagger’s pommel its scaly neck forms the hand grip, the wings spread out to form the cross-guard, and the tail is running down the first quarter of the blade. “Sir, I would like to buy this one, but I only have a five silver marks,” Archaon said. “Four will do fine, but I can give you a well-crafted cloak clasp for the fifth one,” the black smith said. “I’ll buy it even though I do not have a cloak yet,” Archaon said simply. The clasp that Conan gave to Archaon was probably worth more than just one silver mark, but Archaon did not know this until he showed Sylvan. Archaon who had never possessed any type of a currency   After, thanking Conan for his time, Archaon and Tristana returned to the busteling streets and soon heard the clanging of the black smith’s hammer again.

            Archaon and Tristiana unaware that they had made their way to the far north side of the village and away from the crowds. They walked along this less beaten path, when another sound came to Archaon’s ears; this was not the sound of a hammer clanging in a black smith’s shop. It was the sound of a swift rhythm of a Highland tune picked with skilled full hands on a mandolin, accompanied by a man’s voice. Archaon quickened his pace and headed towards the beautiful sound and soon he stood in front of a grey-headed man playing a mandolin that looked older than the one picking and they stood there and listened.

Now’s the day, now’s the hour;

See the front o’ battle lour;

See approach proud masters’ power-

Chains and Slavery?

Who will be a traitor-knave?

Who can fill a coward’s grave?

Who see he as but a slave?

Let him turn and flee!

(Whom is) for country king and law?

Freedoms sword will strongly draw;

Freeman stand, freeman falls.

Let him follow me!

By oppressions’ woes and pain!

By your sons in servile chains!

We will drain our dearest reins,

But they shall be free!

Lay the proud usurpers low!

Tyrants fall in every foe!

Liberties in every blow-

Let us do or die!

(this is temporary unfortunately it is a song from a book I read and I need a song that I have created).

            “Who is it that listens to Cailien MacBurl’s All But forgotten song,” said the minstrel Archaon faintly heard the words, as if he was being roused from a dream. Then he hastily mustered a reply, “Archaon, a new comer of the wizard school.” “Do you like my song; high wizard to be,” the man said. “They are arousing,” replied Archaon. It seemed to be a fitting complement because of the event in the song, but yet it was the exact opposite that had happened to Archaon. Archaon had seemed to have fallen into some sort of dream. Archaon imagined a grizzled knight trotting back and forth in front of his ragged and weary men, arousing them to fight for their freedom. “Many years ago, my people were under oppression. A young warrior rose up gave my people the courage to fight back, but in the final battle both sides were annihilated.  The young warrior that had given hope to my people disappeared along with his legendary sword, which was the longest in the land.” The Archaon noticed something; something was missing… Tristana! “Forgive me master MacBurl, but I must go.” Archaon said in a panic. “Be on your way then, Archaon,” said Calien MacBurl.