Chapter 35

The Fair Troubadour.

I had wallowed in my anger and shame, alone in the canopy of tall grass amidst the rotting carcass of the fallen, wishing I was one of them, all throughout the bleakness of night. When I next woke, I was in my grass cot inside my mecha Amelia’s helm, Peb was fixed sitting asleep beside me, like a stonemason guarding dormant in his quarry.

There were particles of pebble dust and granite grime all across my person, wet with saliva or tears.

“Peb, oh pebbly Peb. Why do you have to make a mess of things.” I remarked, shaking my head with a sad grin. But part of the remark, was for me, for I will feel forever guilty for the courses I took throughout my journey here. A journey riddled with regrets and torment. I clenched my fist, recalling Oona’s departure, then slid off my cot, dust particles scattering in my wake.

I lightly patted the stone head of Peb, beyond his stone hat, he was bald as an egg; for he was keen to show his affection for the stone, by shaving to the likeness of their rounded corners. I ate my breakfast of greens, with Amelia’s steel visor opened to the grass meadows around. It was idyllic in modest scenery, albeit constant in green tapestry. It was my friend’s achievement and my friend's final rest. The sentient inhabitants of this plain and town will never know the miniature hero who saved them from annihilation, but the grass will know, for he was the people of the grass.

After I finished my vegan brunch of crunched almond nuts sprinkled with sugar cane slices, I headed to my cockpit, to deflate atop the grass recliner. With a tune and a command, I activated my Mecha Amelia once more, the armored shell of the mother of my charge. I stirred her to swivel to face the border town of Ebenfurth from the Dukedom of Duke Agenchord. She was unspoiled in her medieval splendor, thanks to the work of a ragtag team of little green men. Shaking my head, I noticed a blue rounded roof caravan, framed with freshly bright redwood walls with edges of golden yellow spirals decorated around, leaving through the opened gates of the town. There were two humans walking beside the archaic vehicle, talking to the bard who sat in front hollering two donkeys into plodding motion.

The humans were attired adversely from one another. One walking with the cutting briskness of a soldier in the dark blue uniform from the town's guard, and the other, wore civilian garb, built for hard-working labor, yet refined for stalwart greetings. It was the human Lieutenant Marcus escorting his Mayor, Hamlin.

When they noticed me, they signaled me to step onto the dirt clodded roads that exited out from the town to unknown destinations, unmapped to my wee green head. Following, I greeted them with a close visor for their inspection. Marcus knew that Sir Ghras wasn’t a human but a gaggle of fae folk, so I wasn’t sure if he had told his mayor of this fascinating secret. But judging by the stiff salute the Mayor had given me, I assumed otherwise.

“So, you’re leaving us,” Hamlin said with his stalwart voice, as he folded his arms. I signaled Amelia to mechanically nod at his hunch.

“So you’re not a knight, and you’re not even human. You know the cost of pretending to be part of the peerage?”

I signaled my mecha to both move her shoulders upwards into a shrug.

“I see…And the child?”

This time, I did speak, for there was no movement or signal I could give to reason the governance of my charge. “I’m taking him back to his family.”

“His family?”

“The Royal House of Armont.”

All three humans around Amelia stepped back aghast. The bard couldn’t so he veered back from his seat on his wagon.

“The Royal House of Armont-Armont?” Marcus stuttered.

I signal Amelia to nod.

“Why would you be holding the last scion of the Artolian Bloodline? Didn’t they all get assassinated by the Demon King and his agents?”

“I don’t know about the agents of the Demon King, but the lady who had requested this task of me was Amelia Sercroft. This boy’s mother.”

“Hmmm...Yes,” Mayor Hamlin nodded, “I do recall the lady Amelia Secroft from the Prince retinue, during the Alabaster Campaign. She was blonde, with blue fierce eyes. Oh, I remember those eyes... “

“So you know her?”

“We met, so yes, you could say that.” Noticing that the answer was not good enough the Mayor elaborated. “I was one of the generals in the prince’s campaign against the Alabaster principality.”

‘So a general from the kingdom?’ That does explain his strong bearing and the respect that I had gleaned from the town's guards of his small little border town.

“But, why have you taken the child here?” He inquired, his face puzzled at the quandary. "And not at the capital where the Regent holds council?”

Judging it prudent that this man was familiar with the family and did not seem to be aware of the political intrigues of this Kingdom, I tensed my shoulders and told him. Amelia’s story, about the coup within the capital and her harrowing escape through the fae forest.

“If this is true…? Then you are taking the child to the prince's uncle? Duke Agenchord?” His face paled at the information I had justifiedly shared.

I nodded Amelia again to his assumption.

“This will be a civil war.” He muttered, his face riled at his discerning conclusion.

‘Wait, what?’ I paused, at his utterance, my hands perspiring as they gripped atop the analog twigs of my mecha. Face turning ashen at the idea of a civil war, and the death that might tally from such a consequence. If I'm leading Art to the remainder of his family to instigate a civil war within the Kingdom of Armont, does that make me culpable to the deaths that would ensue from such eventuality?

I made a promise to Amelia though. To bring Art to his relatives, consequences or not. I have gone through torment and death, exile, and betrayal, for something I believed was just and noble. If it was all for naught, and I don’t deliver this child to his relative. My promise, my word, is all I have, and that was the only truest thing that has kept me going thus far.

“I’m sorry, I’m just speculating, and I don’t know if your report is accurate or if you are just fabricating a reason for your charge, to us. But, the people you have spoken of, are true, and I do now recall a rumor that the prince had a romance with one of his bodyguards.”

Giving me a hard smile, the Mayor nodded at my task and it’s complexities. “You and your gaggle of small folks have saved my town from torment and destruction. If your promise holds true, then I will not halt your way through power nor violence.”

“I did not save your town from torment and destruction, my friend Teka did.”

“You’re friend Teka?” The human man slanted to peer inside the helm. “Well, tell him to show himself, I wish to thank him personally.”

“He is with the fallen…” I heavily sighed, my breath losing volume. “Implanted and buried amongst the grass that is beyond your town of Ebenfurth.”

Pausing at my words, he stepped back, his head tilting down to give me undue respect which I did not deserve. The respect and accolades are those who risked it all, and I’m just a small man who risked his friends for so many stupid intangible reasons.

“I’m sorry for your loss, and I will make sure this town remembers the hero who saved us.” He said, his voice halting, surmising the grieving tension that was conveyed in my words.

“Thank you.” I nodded to him, inside and outside, for all that is left with me is the memory of Teka. If the memory of his name and deeds are known throughout the land, of a small little grass folk, saving a village of humans from an army of goblins and trolls. Then hopefully, in his young and short-lived life, he received the just accolades from his first in his present-beyond.

I was never a religious sort, but now I know that goddesses exist from the sparse recollection I had of her, then I can notion a hope that the heroes beyond this plain, know their unsung deeds mattered beyond.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” The Mayor, sensing there were no more words to discuss, he gave me a nod and then a salute, as brisk as his old life, familiar with the new. “Farey well, young small folks, may your journey and quest end well, for that is all we can wish for in these troubling times.”

I tilted Amelia's left arm to give him a salute but noticed the gauntlet and forearm was gone. I froze to stare at my mistake and dropped it. The Mayor gave me a sad nod, then turned to head back to his town. Lieutenant Marcus accorded me a respectful salute to then swivel back to follow his Mayor. I deducted Marcus was not fond of goodbyes, because of their finality, but in those sparing moments, I noticed him slump his shoulders as he followed behind, in regret for not doing so.

The bard Merrywind sat atop the front seat of his rounded carriage, staring at their departure with a wistful frown. “You should get on.”

“Wait, what?”

“We are coming with you, so you should get on.” He continued, hinting me to go to the back of the wagon for a proper explanation. Tilting Amelia, I followed his direction, pique at their partisan to accompany us to wherever we may go. To be honest, we don’t even know what city or town the Duke Agenchord resides in. The only person in our company would probably know was Oona, and by now she was long gone. I scoffed at the notion of thinking she was a part of our company. She never was, she was just tagging along, curious to see the drama unfold.

The back of the wagon had its circular door opened to a sight so familiar yet alluring to me. There was a large cot on the left, white wooled and often used, but that wasn’t what caught my breath, it was the small garden within. A small grove, fenced with a 1-inch wall, was situated at the right. There was even a thick oak tree, shaped to conform in its growth against the ceiling of the caravan. It was mesmerizingly natural, yet fitting to the contours of the space. A harmonic balance between the conformity of wood-crafting and the varied forestry of nature. A fair place to call a fair folk home.

Sera was there, standing at the edge with Gan, who both looked up when they noticed the steel gleam of Amelia’s metal. I trigger my mecha’s visor to open up, as I knelt her down to them.

“Where are Art and Wink?”

I asked Sera, as she peered at me. She acrobatically vaulted off the wooden flooring of the wagon and into the helm of my mecha. “I’m going to retrieve them.” She remarked, her face solemn with an eye roll at my query.

“Whaa?”

“Come on get off.”

She tapped my shoulder to signal me to stand and get off. “Where are you going?”

“To retrieve them of course, and hopefully get this suit of metal repaired.”

“So they are with the smithy?”

“Uh-uh.” Sera nodded, preoccupied as she scanned the new controls and functions. I had tutored her the basics functions of the Mecha, even given everyone in our company ago, in case I was incapable of it. It was pleasing to see that Sera was eager to man my mecha, but I also felt anxious, even a little protective.

“I’ll be back.” She adamantly vowed an exciting tilt to her lips at the notion of riding Amelia. There was a sad glimmer in her eyes for a moment, recalling the grief she buried deep inside the furrows of her mind. I gave assent to her assurance, jumping off to sit and wait with Gan.

Seeing the last glimmer of Amelia’s plate reflecting the glare of the morning light, I sat despondently watching the opened gates of Ebenfurth and the bustle inside. The wagon had parked a dozen meters away from the entrance, as farmers exited out to return to their crops and homes.

“You know,” Gan the wizened old grass folk, with his long white wispy beard, sat next to me. “You remind me a lot of myself.” He said.

“Huh?”

“Well, not the singing part. I heard you are an awful singer. I myself am praised amongst all the continents around, from people who are big and small.”

“Huh?”

“Yes, yes.” He combed his beard, as he looked in the same direction I was sighting. “I’ve traveled across seas, storms, and deserts. Plains where beastskin resides, to the Tengu Empire, where the birds rule supreme. I have even bordered the barren northern lands, where all evil conforms.”

“But how?” Amazed at his feats, for such a small man to be well versed in transit was a marvel indeed.

“I have traveled the world, young sprout, and what a world it is.” He paused, a sad wrinkle crinkled when he slit his eyes to focus on a peculiar farm boy, who was annoying his sister atop a moving open-wagon.

“How do you remind me of myself---you are pondering? But of course, your origin. Not that of the grass, but your journey out from it.”

I paused, to let him continue as we watch the bustle of humans leave the security of their walls to toil on their fields.

“You see. I’m not a Grass Singer, but a Grass Soldier. And one day, when I was assigned sentinel around my grove. I strayed far from the common path and found myself lost.” He turned to me with a whimsical shrug.

“And that is when I found a small human gypsy boy, named Wilaver. He was lost too, probably more so, for the forest is sometimes alien to the humans outside. You see, not even 7 summers old, and he had witnessed a tragedy, too sad to comprehend against my brash fair mind. His caravan had been attacked by brigands. And he, with the wisdom of his parents, alone survived the onslaught, by running headfirst into the forest in the darkness of night.”

‘So he rescued a human child.’

“And so it went, I took charge of the child’s well being, for I was a Grass Soldier and protecting was my role. I tutored him the ways of my small folk and sheltered him for many years. I also told him, my love and my passion, which was to sing new songs.”

I scratched the scar on my right cheek, recalling my encounters with humans, and my journey here was entirely different from his telling. ‘So why…?’

“We had to leave my hidden grove because he was nearly an adult, so he needed his Classification to share the magic of this world.”

“I see....”

“And so on we went, on our harrowing journey, the big and the small, to find a place together in this strange open world.” The wizened man stretched out his arms to limber, standing up. “Wilaver, decided to become a Mesmer, and bard, to sate his parent’s lifestyle to travel the world with their home on their feet.”

As I looked on at this peculiar grass man, I pondered the journey and stories he must have gone through with his human charge.

“He did not seek revenge for his parent’s murder, for I taught him, death is just a cycle of life, and there is already too much sadness in this world. So why not bring a little happiness around?”

I stayed silent at his words, recalling the rage that I had built within myself, bristling at the thought. He was right, there is too much sadness in this world. I don’t know what came of me, but I pitied the fair man and his human companion as Oona pitied me. With so much relying on me, grace is just a weakness to me right now. Maybe I'm being brash to not heed this wise man’s story, but I know, with my knowledge and ability, I can change the course of this world, even for a little. My fist clenching at my newfound ambition and the memory of Teka, who would have followed me in my new course. Recalling Teka, made me say his name.

“Teka…”

“C’mon, you got to buck up. No matter how much you want to, you know you can’t change the past!”

I nodded, “I know that. But I can’t stop...”

“It’s difficult to live a life---without having any regrets.”

The wizened grass man yawned out as he stretched again, his arms open to the morning breeze that gusted inside the opened door. “I’ve been alive for 60 fair years, and I spent most of that time regretting.”

For some reason, I found it funny, maybe it’s because his wizened white beard which had been split by the gust of wind, or when he mentioned his goodness to good ideology when he himself regrets some of the courses in his life. Nonetheless, I erupted out in a small laugh.

Gan turned to me, “That’s right.” He started to pace forward, waving his arms into the motion of walking. “Laugh. Just laugh and go on. That’s the best thing to do.”

He halted his funny walk and arms to look up at the morning blue sky. “Then you can look back at even the saddest things and smile.”

“Hmmm...”

“Sink.”

“Yeah?”

“We are going with you, to help you finish your quest.”

“Why?” I stared up at him, as he looked back at me with a comforting smile.

“You need a guide, in this strange and big world, and my fair troubadour is the best to assist you.”

I nodded. “Thank you.” My voice trembling with a tinge of grief at his generosity to assist us.

When Sera came back, inside the mecha Amelia, which had acquired a new gleam in her armor, she opened the visor to give me a wave. Suzie was following behind, holding Art inside the golden furred backpack with Wink atop her shoulder. Amelia’s plates had rune symbols etched atop each plate. They were heat resistance, and cold resistance bound runes, with durable enchantments in case the metal of the plate, rust, or cracks.

I had brightened when I saw this.

Suzie’s father outdone himself with the new gauntlet. It was similarly designed in shape and form with the rest of Amelia’s kit but what was different was the large lapis stone indented at the center of the plate. Suzie had explained to me that the lapis was enchanted with a spell, similar to the sapphire, but instead of lightning, the stone would permeate frost to negate the heat that comes off the plasma sword that I had built.

Grinning at this new marvel, I was about to jump inside the mecha to give it a test run when Sera shook her head. “Let me have a go. You should rest” She suggested.

With a smile, I shrugged off my excitement and nodded to her request. When did Sera become so forward on riding the mecha? Having an inkling, I nodded. She wanted to bear more responsibility, so I gave it to her. When Suzie carefully transported the covered baby atop the bard's cot inside the wagon, she gingerly avoided the small folks below to skip off exiting onto the clodded soil.

“I’m forgetting something,” Suzie said, her finger sequestered between her lips as she pondered. It was Wink, who was clutching at her neck, not wanting to let go.

“Don’t take me away from you!” He moaned, his face nestled on her blushing skin. He then began to kiss it, a couple of times. The human girl giggled at the small man’s affection.

I groaned inside myself but keeping a happy face to the crowd around. Judging from our lodgings, this is going to be a comfortable ride.

“Oh, I remember!”

“Nooo!”

She yanked Wink off her, with her hands she directed him right in front of her face. She motioned for a kiss, but he pecked her on the lips first with his small little lips. Her kiss encompassed his whole face. In the aftermath, his green complexion had turned turnip, whilst the human had blushed redder at the notion. “I’m so silly sometimes.” She giggled.

“Not silly to me honeybee.”

“Oh, you!”

After a few more odd kisses and affectionate goodbyes, Suzie dropped Wink to stand next to me. I turned to him with mortifying embarrassment. He turned to me and Wink. He goddess be damned winked at me.

‘Oh, why, why in the world, it had to be Wink?’

Suzie stood by, as the Merrywind’s carriage began to move with a command from the bard in front. “Come on! Dopey and Spud!” He shouted to the two donkeys, who had stopped to graze on a shrub by the road.

With a jolt and a rustle, the gypsy carriage moved on. with a melancholy expression on my face, I looked out at the back through the carriage at the border town of Ebenfurth; where my friend inadvertently gave his life to protect. Those people bustling in those streets, will never truly know the small hero, who had risked life and love for them all.