2
The banquet continued late into the night, eventually breaking into courtly dancing. Parn and his companions couldn’t keep up with the intricacies of court manners, so they eventually found sanctuary together in a corner of the hall, drinking and talking among themselves as if in their own private refuge.
“So now Parn’s dragging us all deep into the Moss mountains, huh?” Deedlit needled him, but deep inside she was secretly pleased that her journey with these people would continue. If Parn became a knight of Valis, there would be nothing to keep the two of them together.
“Look, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to force you into this—I want you all to come with me, but I know you have your own goals. We’ve just gotten this huge reward, I understand that you might not want to risk your lives again—and I’m prepared to go alone.” Parn’s reply was quiet but determined, and his eyes never left Deedlit’s face.
Deedlit was taken aback. She had expected Parn to be stunned or at least surprised at her reaction, and then she could graciously volunteer to come along, demanding his gratitude. But Parn’s intense determination put a stop to that; she wrapped her lithe arm around him and gave him a light kiss on the cheek.
“You’ve grown into a fine warrior,” she told him. “You win, for now. I’ll follow you.”
“I’m coming too,” Ghim slurred excitedly. “Now, don’t thank me—this is my problem, too.”
“I’ll gladly join you this time,” Slayn said. “I can’t pass up a chance to meet Wort.”
“Do I even need to say anything, buddy?” Etoh said with a sunny smile.
They all turned to Woodchuck.
“I know, I know, in for a penny, in for a pound. I’ll go with you—I know you’ll end up needing me, anyway,” he said cheerfully, hiding his darker thoughts.
Even if we make it back somehow, you lot will be the ones they thank.
Woodchuck turned toward the center of the hall so no one would notice his dejection. The others followed his gaze.
At the center of the great hall, King Kashue was dancing gracefully with one of the noblewomen. He had only been king for a short time, but he had perfectly mastered the etiquette and decorum of the court. The nosiest of the noblewomen were gossiping about where he might have gotten lessons. Some speculated that he might be Kanon’s third prince, who had run away more than seven years ago, or a royal who had drifted in from the continent. Kashue himself never discussed his origins. When asked about his past, he replied that his present was everything.
King Fahn stayed at the banquet for only a short time, retiring early. Without the king’s attention presiding, the ceremony and formality of the party loosened as the night grew later.
Woodchuck, Ghim, and Slayn crept away and withdrew to their guest rooms, but Parn lagged behind, not wanting the night to end. The crowd around him had thinned until the only one left at his side was an unexpectedly cheerful Deedlit. She hadn’t eaten or drunk much and wasn’t speaking to anyone—she’d refused all requests for a dance from the knights, saying that elves had no such custom. Yet she seemed unexpectedly happy just to sit beside him.
Etoh had tried to return to his room several times, but each time he was stalled by one of the young ladies, asking for Pharis teachings or stories of his adventures.
“He’s so popular,” Parn pouted, watching his friend.
“Of course. He’s attractive enough—and considering the devout Pharis following here, it’s no wonder a young priest is drawing attention,” Deedlit chuckled, leaning against the wall beside Parn.
“May I join you?”
The sudden greeting interrupted their peaceful bubble, which annoyed Deedlit. She turned to the newcomer harshly.
“What do you want?” she huffed.
“What a stubborn elf,” he laughed loudly.
Parn was struck silent—the man talking to them was the King of Flaim himself. “F-forgive me,” Parn quickly apologized with a bow.
“At ease,” the king replied. “No need for decorum—I was once a swordsman for hire, just like you.”
“I-is there something I can do for you, sir?” Parn couldn’t help but be nervous, but Kashue’s frank manner was helping to relax him.
Deedlit, on the other hand, wasn’t bothering to hide her displeasure—she pursed her lips, vowing not to speak to him at all.
“Nothing in particular,” the king replied. “I was just in the mood to talk to a young warrior about his adventures.”
“O-of course…” Parn said. He began to tell the story of their rescue of the princess. While he talked, he watched the King of Flaim, hoping to observe how he was different from Parn himself, thinking that he might become a better man if he could just bridge the gap between them.
Kashue seemed to enjoy Parn’s story, even giving advice during the battle scenes based on his own experiences. He had a wealth of knowledge about battle tactics for one-on-one combat and had survived countless chaotic melees. He even offered to give Parn a sparring lesson the next day.
As Parn’s story wrapped up, the clear voice of a troubadour rang out. The man picked out harmonies on a lute as he sang a song of heroic deeds—an epic poem about the war against the demon gods.
Brought to this world through our most dire mistake,
the fearsome Demon King whose tale I tell,
left death and dire destruction in its wake.
With kingdoms destroyed, the world to darkness fell.
But light then gathered there to fight its war,
the humans rose, armed with shield and sword,
the elves with bows arose from forests far,
and dwarves joined in with axes freshly forged.
Forces of light, a shining sun of hope,
banished the awful darkness from this land.
A shout of triumph rang from shore to shore,
from forest, mountain, ocean, sky, and sand.
Abysmal labyrinth hid the kingly demon,
its final stronghold, the city of the damned.
From hidden portal by its horrid throne,
the fiend’s hand reached and cursed the land.
A hundred chosen heroes ventured there,
challenged the fell labyrinth—and died.
Corpses grew cold, but their inner light flared,
a radiance that left evil no place to hide.
Seven heroes fought the Demon King,
six survived and thus the world was saved,
the knight, the royal hero with sword a-shining,
Fahn of Valis, chivalrous and brave.
The warrior, Beld, who smote the demon lord,
and lost his soul when he struck the killing blow,
the priestess, Neese, Marfa’s child, dearly adored,
and the wizard, Wort, who knew all there was to know.
The dwarf there was, too—Flebe, the last one of his line,
a lost country of stone, and he the king—
and last, the nameless warrior-mage long gone.
Together, all put to right the evil of which I sing.
The song ended, and the room fell silent. Then someone clapped and raucous applause broke out—the Valis knights cheered their Hero King and called for the overthrow of the Dark Emperor Beld.
Parn knew that the events of the song had really happened—the epic battle against demons had occurred only a few decades before—and now, another war was about to break out on Lodoss between two of the heroes of that last war.
What an ironic fate, Parn couldn’t help but think. Why had Beld abandoned his heroic nature and become Emperor of the dark island? Why had he destroyed Kanon? Parn just couldn’t wrap his head around it.
The dancing resumed with no end in sight. Kashue ignored the ladies vying for a dancing partner, seemingly content to keep talking to Parn, who couldn’t imagine a better opportunity. He had the personal attention of a legendary king who had started out as a mercenary just like him. Parn remained rapt, absorbing every single thing the king said.
Deedlit listened to their conversation with her back to them. She watched the dancing, which was reminiscent of the time she had met Parn, during the festival in Allan. However, it also roused nostalgic thoughts of her home in the forest.
She had expected to be bored and unimpressed with humans, but it seemed that there were leaves of truth and insight scattered through their short lives. It would take some time to sift through what she’d discovered. Deedlit glanced back at Parn, who was still talking to Kashue with a serious look on his face, and found herself thinking that she wouldn’t mind taking the time to watch over this young man’s life.