Chapter VIII - In which I celebrate

A forest in winter is a disquieting place. The sounds of the birds, animals and insects disappear, leaving only a dazzling silent white landscape; reshaping everything familiar into a new unknown. Time holds little meaning; the days are dreary and cold, the nights are drearier and colder, and the snow covers it all. The whole world is asleep, dying, waiting for Spring and the chance to be born anew.

Of course, I didn't get to remain idle. My mastery was archery was grudgingly accepted by Jacob to be competent, and so we focused on the next weapon; the staff.

There was a Silver’s Guide To Weapons at Deirmoor that I loved to read. The staff took up most of the book; Silver claimed that it had infinite possibilities, and had compiled the moves originating from different countries, each of them fascinating in their variance.

That was followed by his treatise breaking down the styles, comparing the commonalities and differences, and laying down his ideas for a universal, foundational style. I remember being entranced by it; and as Jacob explained to me once again, I couldn't help but recall the excitement.

The possibilities of staff fighting start from the very first choice itself - which wood to use? Heavy or light, soft or hard, flexible or rigid - every tree was different in nature. I went with Silver's (and also Jacob's) recommendation - a black oak. It would be on the heavier side, but I knew I had the strength to wield it.

Then came the length of the stick. Everyone had different ideas and theories, but again, I went with the tried and tested method of Silver - an arm and a half more than one's size.

Finally came actual practice. It started pretty simple, easily asked and answered, and gradually became more complex.

How should one stand? Legs apart, knees slightly bent - so as to provide a smaller target and being able to move faster.

How should one move? Quickly, with a single large step, keeping the weapon pointed at the enemy, and making sure the foot which moves aligns with the Main Hand. How should one hold the staff? There was the High Guard, Mid Guard, Low Guard, Overhead, Side Head, Sideways, Vertical, Vertical Slanted with the Full Hold, Half Hold and Quarter Hold. That could be further divided into Main Hand and Other Hand, followed by even more specifics - Pointing up, pointing down, defensive, offensive, thrust, lunge or swing.

And how should one fight? To fight was to move between the stances, protecting and attacking to defeat the enemy.

So I practiced changing, moving, swinging, thrusting in the air while Jacob called out directions. There was a wooden pole with markings which I was supposed to hit (built by me), which kept on increasing as I grew more proficient.

At first, I made the beginner mistakes - dropped the staff, sent it flying, hit myself with it, poked my own hands; all of them, multiple times. Then I made few better mistakes - hitting the wrong spot, improper stance, weak guard, slow switching, soft swinging, inaccurate thrusts, and many more. They took a longer time to correct, but I was still susceptible to messing it up in the heat of the moment. After that came the advanced mistakes - why this stance was wrong, how I should have dodged, where should I have advanced; difficult to comprehend, and only resolved through going over it again and again.

Then, after two months of practicing by myself, Jacob joined to give me some real experience. There was now Guard training, wherein Jacob kept attacking and I defended, Attack Training, the opposite of that, and actual fighting. Needless to say, I was horrible at all of them. My growth was a castle of sand, washed away every day by the unfathomable ocean of Jacob's experience. Physically, I was superior - yet his precise attacks, sweeping defense and deceitful feints defeated me every time. He was merciless; no matter what I did, I looked like a bumbling amateur.

Still, I persisted in my efforts; and even though I could never defeat Jacob once, the time I lasted against him increased. A small consolation, but it would have to suffice. I hoped not everyone was as strong as him; although at least I would be able to run away if that were the case.

That's what I did during the winter days. Nights were worse - I learned every household work imaginable; and was still stifled to boredom. Not a single event of import happened - the closest break from routine I had was the Natalis celebrations.

***

Ages ago, when the world was new and full of wonder - Gods walked amongst our midst. Earth was a paradise, where all beings lived in harmony and peace. Everything was perfect.

And one day, on our perfect world, Evil was born. All Evil that was, is, and ever will be - condensed into a single form. The Concept had never existed before - and it tore through the unprepared world.

There was a War - a War so great that no other War before or after could match up to it’s scale. Every God and every being worked together to defeat Evil, staking it all on a desperate, final, attempt.

There was countless theories as to what happened on that day. Some say that the Gods and Perfect Evil destroyed each other. Others think that the Gods destroyed Perfect Evil, and then chose to ascend and leave this world forever - for it was their unnatural perfectness that created Evil in the first place. There are even people that believe that the entire thing is a hoax - a lie we tell ourselves to explain the unexplainable.

Well, whatever may have happened to the Gods, all other beings were still there. Against all odds, Evil had been defeated, and we were victorious. The world had been irrevocably changed, but we were still alive.

Natalis. People called it by different names, observed it on different days, performed different rituals - but the meaning remained the same. Natalis, the Day of Life.

We Albanns followed the traditional ways, celebrating it on the Apihelian day (The day the star Apihelia reaches its zenith) enjoying the games, feasts, gifts, stories - well, every gaiety imaginable.

I didn't like it. I might sound unthankful; but everything about Natalis made me miserable. We did have a feast in Gywnheid, and Aunt Ethel did give me gifts — but we weren't a family.

My situation, which would be ignored throughout the rest of the year, would somehow earn pitying stares and hushed stares during Natalis. His mother is dead, his father didn't visit, oh, how sad he must be...

Anyways, when Jacob brought up the subject, I was apathetic, to say the least. Jacob, however, seemed to be overly enthused, and I allowed myself to be dragged at his pace. If someone was happy, why should I go out my way to ruin it?

There wasn't much to do in the forest, and it was hard to visit anywhere due to the snow. We settled on having a grand feast - well, something better than what we usually ate.

We started cooking early that morning - preparing the sauces and a special stock called roux (something Jacob had learned in Ariance). First, I mixed the fat and flour, and keep on whisking on a low burning fire. When it turned all dark brown and slightly gooey, I started adding the herbs and spices. Then I had to whisk some more, and after it grew thicker, I added the venison. The final step was to cook until the meat was soft enough for liking - and removing it from the fire. The special venison was ready. The pork was seasoned with herbs and smoked till it was oozing fat. Fresh milk, a little bit of honey, and bread.

The food was heavenly, and I ate with gusto. Yet, I was preoccupied that day, my mind wandering between the Great War, Natalis, my father, myself, my -

“What are you thinking about?” Jacob asked. He must have noticed. My thoughts scattered at the question. What was I thinking about, truly?

“Nothing in particular.” I said.

“Surely it must be something.” He was insistent.

The thoughts were formless, and I couldn’t put them into words. But there was something…

“You knew that the soldiers had been hanged,” I remembered that again, and this time I asked him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I could tell he was discomforted by the question. But to his credit, he didn’t avoid it. “Nothing would have changed. And I was worried, as well.”

“About what?” I asked, and immediately answered my question. “That I would do something stupid?”

“Yes.” He answered straight away.

“I am not a fool.” I said.

“That’s not what I meant.” Jacob looked at me. “If you made a choice on anger, you’ll end up regretting it.

“Even if it is the right choice?” Sophistry was my refuge.

“Yes.” And Jacob cut straight through it.

He was right. He usually was. But I needed to be the one to kill them. Why? As long as they were dead, what did it matter? It mattered to me. Somehow, it mattered to me. Why? I needed to know. Did they fear their death? No, that wasn’t it. Did they think could escape justice? No, there was something else, wasn’t it? Did they regret their actions? Close, but not yet…

The answer, or rather the question, when I finally realized it, was deceptively, brilliantly, simple.

I wanted to know why.

Why did they kill? How could they watch someone burn and think it righteous? Did they know that they would face death for their actions, or was it simply not a crime in their eyes? But how could it be? I couldn’t understand them, or their reasons. Was there even a reason? Or were they simply wicked, and wanted to murder? But why? I didn’t know, and I couldn’t imagine. It was incomprehensible to me. Maybe that’s what the Gods felt as well. I smiled at my own narcissistic comparison.

“Those soldiers....” I began, but couldn’t finish the question. “Do you think Evil existed?”

If he was surprised at my question, he didn’t show it. “You know, I was young once... ” He began slowly. “Hot-headed and rebellious; I wanted to leave this place, explore the world.” He smiled wistfully. “And I did just that, packed up my bags and became an adventurer.”

“What?” I exclaimed. “I never knew about that!”

“That’s cause I never told anyone.” He laughed at my surprised face. “I traveled the continent, heading westwards. Hispania, Ariance, Solaris, Starkeisen, I visited every country I could. Eventually, I ended up going further than I should have, and arrived at Fortis.”

“The frontier itself?” I let out a gasp. “So you have seen demons?!”

“And Remnants as well. Don’t ask about them - it’s not worth talking about.” His stopped, collecting himself. “The thing is… I have seen them. And although many may disagree… I don’t think they were Evil.” He raised up a hand to forestall me. “To me... they were beasts. Terrifying creatures that cause nothing but pain and death - yet they are forced by their nature. They cannot stop any more than a wolf stop to eat grass. It simply isn’t in their nature. And to me, that wasn’t evil. It was tragic.”

“So you have to chose to be Evil?” I realized what he wanted to say.

“A choice is not easily defined, Robin. People bind themselves up in so many ways that their actions almost become inevitable. Those soldiers might have believed they were doing the right thing, serving a higher purpose. Isn’t it tragic -”

“- No. They had a choice, and they chose to kill.” I snapped. “Doesn't that make them evil?”

The outburst strained the air; no one spoke for awhile. “Maybe you’re right.” Jacob finally said. “They might have chose to do it.”

“So you believe you have never seen evil?” I changed the conversation. "Just tragedies?"

“Well, yes…” He looked thoughtful. “Although, there was this one time, when my wife passed away -”

“You were married?” I was surprised once again. “I mean, I thought you were only pretending…” I realized how stupid I sounded immediately after I spoke.

“Oh yes, I hadn’t told you about Marigold.” He laughed, but I could tell he was forcing it. “Yeah, after I returned home, I kind of met her, and we fell in love.” He was staring off in the distance, lost in thoughts of a better time and place. I watched the snow fall outside, piling across the window. The fire flickered lazily in the hearth. I didn’t quite know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“Ah! Why are you being so serious? It was a long time ago. I have made my peace with it.” He tried to laugh again. “Now come on! Today’s supposed to be a celebration! Try to cheer up, will you?!”

“Right.” I tried to smile as well. It was Natalis. A celebration of our victory, of our continued existence on this world. A celebration with our loved ones, our family, a commemoration of the greatest miracle of all - life itself.

Even though I had suffered, I was still alive. As long as I lived, there was hope.

And I would make it a reality.

***