The night blew in the short grass on the moor; there was no other motion. Long ago a few small stones had simulated life when they crumbled and fell into dust. Now only the night moved in by the lonely fire where Dove and Neil sat in the wilderness; darkness pumped quietly in their veins and ticked silently in their temples and their wrists.
Firelight fled up and down their wild faces and welled in their eyes in orange tatters. They listened to each other's faint, cool breathing and the lizard blink of their eyelids.
"Are we going to spend the night in this cave?" Dove asked for the fifth time in the past hour. Neil sighed again.
"Forgive me, your highness. But the circumstances are dire and time is running out. I know you're used to living lavishly with servants running around you to aid you. But I'm not a citizen of your kingdom yet so you're not my prince and I certainly do not have to look after you. If you don't want to sleep here. Then please be my guest."
"You don't have to be so mean. We can just walk outside the outskirts for a little while longer. I'm sure we'll find a place providing suitable lodgings like we did last time. This is Kestramore, after all," Dove argued.
"Are you out of your mind? Stop acting so rashly. If we go out in public and someone recognizes us and tells the queen about it, we're both dead meat," Neil said.
"But we're already in disguise! So why would anyone recognize us?" Dove yelled.
"Forget it. Even if we're lucky and don't get recognized, we still need the kruches to rent a ship for tomorrow," Neil snapped.
"I'm sensing that you're mad at me for some reason. Am I right?" Dove asked.
"Not really," Neil hesitated before he spoke again, "well, a little. If you already knew that the tree's scent led to hallucinations, then why didn't you warn me?" Neil asked.
"I didn't warn you? Hah. Let me remind you that you were the one who decided to ignore me," Dove yelled.
"When did I ignore you?" Neil asked, his temper slightly rising at Dove's accusation.
"When I was telling you about the origin of the phoenix, I was about to tell you about the tree as well, but before I could do so, you had already started climbing it!"
Neil remained silent as Dove continued, "Let's forget about that, as there's no use crying over spilled milk. It's just that most of the Cascadian legends are based on factual events. You yourself saw the power of the Nevermore garden and the glass painting in my Godfather's book. So, trust my word a little more from now onwards," Dove said.
Neil opened his mouth but didn't say anything. Dove was right; he should've been more careful about the quest. And tomorrow was going to be a long day.
As they stood there contemplating their next move, their eyes turned towards the south, where the verdant hills stretched majestically. The first rays of sunlight began to emerge, casting a pale golden glow over the eastern skies. The city of Kestramore lay to the north, its tall structures reaching toward the clear blue sky. The sight filled them with a sense of hope for the new day.
Taking a deep breath, Dove was about to suggest searching for lodgings when Neil tugged at his sleeve, directing his attention to a ship nearby.
A magnificent vessel, measuring 25 meters in length and weighing 30 tons, caught their eyes. It was a professionally built wooden-hulled beauty that had been tested to withstand the roughest of weather conditions. Its main mast reached a height of 18 meters, providing reassurance in the face of potentially large waves.
"Hey, before we decide to board, there's a myth about the river Gantrick in Marren's Eve that I think you should know about," Dove said solemnly.
Neil didn't want to repeat his past mistake, so all he could do was nod.
The myth of Argyle Serais, the most skilled smith in the kingdom of Cascadia, unfolded before them. Argyle's popularity and respect surpassed even that of the old king himself, arousing the king's jealousy. In an attempt to ruin Argyle's reputation, the king summoned him to court and presented him with an impossible task. He demanded three artifacts: an elegant crossbow that thirsted for blood, a harp that could hypnotize any man with its music, and a food mill that never stopped producing grains and salt.
The king imposed strict conditions to ensure Argyle's failure. He gave him only a month to complete the task and prohibited any assistance.
However, Argyle, undeterred by the seemingly impossible challenge, accepted the king's task with unwavering confidence. With the determination that had made him renowned throughout the kingdom, Argyle set out to accomplish the seemingly insurmountable feat.
Using his magnificent horse, Argyle procured the finest materials available: marble, granite, onyx, and quartz. He toiled day and night, forging and shaping the raw materials, hoping to bring the three artifacts to life. Yet, no matter how hard he worked, the fires of his forge yielded only unwanted creations, thwarting his progress at every turn.
Despite his efforts, Argyle was only able to successfully create the food mill, a testament to his exceptional skills. The mill tirelessly produced grains and salt, fulfilling the king's requirements in that regard. However, the elegant crossbow and the hypnotic harp, products of the king's malicious intent, eluded his grasp. The winds themselves seemed to conspire against him, interfering with his every attempt.
Undeterred, Argyle realized that he needed to find a solution beyond his own craftsmanship. He resolved to seek guidance from the gods, particularly the god of elements. With unwavering devotion, he retreated to the temple dedicated to the deity and embarked on an arduous spiritual journey.
For an entire fortnight, Argyle prayed, meditated, and subjected himself to extreme asceticism. He abstained from food, water, and sleep, dedicating every waking moment to his communion with the divine. The god of elements, moved by his unwavering faith and commitment, saw fit to grant Argyle the means to complete the artifacts.
Blessed with newfound divine assistance, Argyle returned to his forge with renewed vigor. Within a mere three days, he accomplished what had seemed impossible. The crossbow he crafted possessed a deadly accuracy that ensured any target it aimed at would meet its demise. The harp he fashioned emitted an enchanting melody that captivated all who heard it, bewitching their minds and hearts.
Armed with the completed artifacts, Argyle presented himself once again before the royal court. The king, his greed overriding his previous ill intentions, was captivated by the limitless power and allure of the artifacts. Forgotten were his plans to ruin Argyle; instead, he eagerly bestowed the promised rewards upon the skilled smith.
Argyle received half of the kingdom's treasury as his well-deserved reward. Additionally, the king offered him the hand of his beautiful daughter in marriage. However, the princess, appalled by Argyle's ghastly appearance, refused the union, shattering his dreams of love and happiness.
Despite the rejection, the king's command prevailed, forcing the princess to wed the smith against her will. But on their wedding day, the princess, driven by her desire for freedom and true love, eloped with the prince of Nethilor, taking with her the wealth bestowed upon Argyle as well.
Heartbroken and betrayed, Argyle returned to his solitary existence, burdened by bitterness and the absence of both a beloved wife and great wealth. It was during this time that his younger brother, Ismael, resurfacedâa charming troublemaker seeking his brother's aid in seeking vengeance against the kingdom of Tethilor.
Persuaded by Ismael's pleas, Argyle agreed to retrieve the artifacts he had crafted and unleash them upon the kingdom that had wronged him. He sought recompense for the injustices he had endured. With their weapons in hand, they confronted the Tethilor king, demanding compensation in the form of half the grains produced by the mill and the elegant crossbow.
Enraged by the audacious request, the Tethilor king ordered his army to attack the two brothers, seeking to crush their audacity and maintain his hold on the artifacts. But Argyle and Ismael, prepared for such a response, had anticipated the king's aggression.
Argyle had crafted intricate weapons imbued with extraordinary powers that rendered the Tethilor guards helpless before their might. Each swing of Argyle's sword struck with supernatural precision, while Ismael's cunning tactics and agility kept them one step ahead of their adversaries. The guards fell before them, unable to withstand the might and skill of the brothers.
Unimpeded, Argyle and Ismael seized the artifacts by force, claiming what they believed was rightfully theirs. With the artifacts in their possession, they made their daring escape from the palace, leaving chaos and confusion in their wake. Their next target was the kingdom of Nethoris.
However, as they journeyed toward Nethoris, Argyle's heart began to soften. He questioned the path of vengeance and bloodshed he had embarked upon. He realized that the artifacts he had created, tainted by the king's malice, were instruments of destruction rather than justice. Determined to find a different way, Argyle urged Ismael to consider a peaceful resolution.
Not wanting to cause further bloodshed, Argyle proposed an alternative approach. Instead of relying on their weapons, he suggested using the harp's enchanting melody to pacify the kingdom of Nethoris. Ismael, recognizing the wisdom in his brother's words, agreed to this change of strategy.
When they arrived in Nethoris, they confronted the kingdom's rulers. Argyle played the harp, its ethereal melody spreading throughout the land, bewitching the hearts of soldiers and citizens alike. As the enchanting notes resonated, the entire army of Nethoris fell into a deep slumber, their weapons dropping from their hands.
Argyle's eyes fell upon the princess and her beloved, who remained unaffected by the harp's spell. He was filled with conflicting emotionsâlove for the princess, but also a lingering resentment born of his past suffering. Ismael caught up in the fervor of the moment, encouraged Argyle to unleash the crossbow's deadly power against the couple.
Yet, as Argyle raised the crossbow and aimed at them, a realization washed over him. He understood that causing harm to the ones he loved would only perpetuate the cycle of pain and vengeance. In a moment of clarity, he chose a different path.
Setting aside the crossbow, Argyle gathered the cursed artifacts in his arms, their weight a constant reminder of the price he had paid for his vendetta. Without hesitation, he leaped from the castle's window, plunging into the depths of the river Gantrick below.
The god of elements, deeply saddened by the demise of his faithful follower and moved by his act of sacrifice, interceded with a powerful curse. The artifacts, tainted by the king's greed and Argyle's resentment, were forever bound to carry the weight of their dark history. The kingdom of Nethoris, too, was touched by the god's wrath, forever bearing the consequences of its rulers' actions.
And so, the myth of Argyle Serais and his cursed artifacts became a cautionary tale, a reminder of the destructive power of greed, revenge, and the choices we make. The artifacts, lost in the depths of the river Gantrick, became relics of a troubled past, their secrets hidden from the world.
"It is said that till this day the artifacts made by Argyle work. The Agrimonium sea salt's presence in the water is due to the food mill made by Argyle which was a blessing to the people who lived around the river. But the cursed harp now plays a melody about the tragedy of its maker. Anyone with Cascadian blood who listens to the melody gets hypnotized and has a deep urge to drown themselves in the river." Dove said.
"So, I won't be affected but there's a chance that you might try to harm yourself?" Neil asked.
"I don't know how powerful exactly the melody is or if any sounds would be heard in the part where we're traveling. But there's a small possibility that I could hear it and try to drown myself. I would plead, beg and cry in front of you to let me go but you'll have to make sure that I don't. I hope that you'll care of me under any circumstance."
A/N
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