I
"I already told you, I know what I'm doing," Terdin said.
He held a mug in his hand, looking from left to right. He was a strange man, no one was sure why. Several of them say he was hit in the head while he was at war with the Oblirs, a notorious minor war between two clans, for a small piece of land. Many good people were killed that day so that leaders could live and fight another day.
"I was there when Helmult died."
"Talk, talk my good man! Don't keep me in suspense!" the man across the table said.
"The day is like any other," Terdin began, "but it soon changed. Helmult took the lead on his own; we broke the opponent's left wing."
"I guess that's a good thing," the man said.
"Yes, but in the beginning, then everything started to fall apart like a tower of cards. They dug the pits for us, on the fifth day. The battle began ten days after we arrived. Those in the front rows went inside. The pits were filled with oil. You know what happened afterwards. "
"They lit them."
"Most of my people were burned. The pits were the first line of defense."
"Then what happened?"
"It got worse. The next line of defense was the pits with the stakes. I've never seen so many people fill it up immediately."
"It's horrible."
"Then ... Then they came."
"Who are they?"
"Arhai infantry, we thought they were just a myth. A legend invented by our parents that scares us"
"The horror warriors call it now."
"Yes."
"You didn't stand a chance against them."
"There's no shame in strategic retreat. There's always another day to fight. That's me and the Duke of the Armal Division. Helmult didn't even want to hear it. He went on a general rush." Terdin said.
"Was he normal?"
"I can't say that. It was a beginner's mistake to attack them. A stray hammer finished his run."
The room then fell silent. Terdin looked at the rim of his mug, memories of the old days. A man enters, breaking the silence. He wore a long blue fur coat, a strange hat on his head. The hat was wide-brimmed, narrowing as it went up. He watched them for an extended period of time; to be sure they were them.
"Gentlemen, I've been told you can help me. I'm from Hartin and Dartin. I'm looking for Drinkwell. Do you know where?" The man asked.
"Working," Terdin said, "as usual."
"Where is it...?"
"At home, where else you would be," the other man answers.
"Just follow the North Drum."
"Think like a geographical point or ..." the man asked.
"No, the road is called North Drum."
"Then where am I doing?"
"You go to the intersection and turn left, and then you go to the next intersection and turn right. You will reach the city center, walk another hundred to two hundred meters and reach his house."
"Thank you, gentlemen. It's my first time in these parts."
"You're welcome. We're always here to help."
"I hear you tell stories. Can I join you?"
"Of course, of course, we're always looking for a company."
"I'm glad; I have a few stories to tell."
The pub was full; women sat on one side while men sat on the other. No one had the courage, on either side, to make the first move. The Minnesingers sang local folk songs. The leader of the group, a black-haired man with a large eagle nose, sings Love the Lost, one of the most popular songs in Forterein. Everyone jumped to their feet when the song started.
Somewhere above the black water,
Young Korakas said goodbye to his girlfriend,
But even sadder than Forterein,
Hey, hey, hey falcons!
Fly over mountains, forests and valleys,
Across the heights of heaven,
She stayed there alone,
My little swallow,
I'm here in this foreign country
I miss it overnight.
My heart is crying,
Sadness, sadness for a girl,
For green Forterein,
Sadness, sadness makes the heart cry,
I will never see her again.
Give me wines, wines, wines!
When she dies, have me beside her
In green Forterein,
In addition to my dear,
Besides my family.
Terdin drank his mug in one sitting. The rich man sat next to him, cleared his throat and went to tell the stories he had heard.
The crowd slowly started to gather around them to hear; almost everyone stopped working to listen.