Broken Tower Saga: The First Swordsman

As the story finished, and the mist cleared as well, but the audience did not. The adults who wore better clothes than the beggar and the children seemed to have agreed on a pact with themselves and joined together, leaving the others still at the ground. 

The bard did not leave, sat as if waiting for something. The rest of the audience was the same. They sat under the warm sun after the storm yesterday. Even without that, it was the season of cold. Warming themselves in the sun was the hobby of many people.

Like his aunt Anna, for instance. But there appeared to be some more reason to still be here, and about a couple of minutes, Wrik understood what they were waiting for. 

The adult that left a couple of minutes ago came back, and they brought food with them. The children and beggars laughed and so did the bard, knowing all that food was for them. The adult contributed together to bring food for the others. They distributed the food among all the folks slowly, and sat too beside them with the meal.

"I Praise all the noblemen. I and the poor folks will have to go back empty stomach if not for such contribution from you all. You have my sincere acknowledgement," the bard said and took his paper plate. He bowed to the man who gave it to him and in response, the patron bowed too. 

Wrik took the paper plate given to him and bowed as well. The giver only nodded, noticing he was not one of them—not one of the residents of the slum. He did not complain, seeing Wrik not complaining, presenting himself humbly.

In between the story, Wrik noticed Byul, sitting behind him. She did not talk once during the story, only let him know she was there. Now she was eating with him while keeping a low glance to find if Wrik had any dispute eating with the peasants and poor. 

Actually, he had none except for the unhygienic that was, but with his high vitality, a day of unhygienic food won't cause a problem and he could bring himself to the ground for a day.

Wrik looked at the paper plate. It held a curry of barley and bread of humble quality. He took a little of the curry and mouthed the bread. It did not taste that bad. Quite delicious, actually. Perhaps it was his hunger.

"Do you know him?" Wrik asked Byul, peeking at the bard.

Byul nodded. "I listened to his stories a few more times before," she said. "He appeared here a couple of years ago and in just about a couple of weeks of his show, his fame was known throughout the slum. He knew a lot of stories and a lot of songs more than he ever played in the slum. But fascinates people more was his humbleness. With such skill in storytelling and lute, he could have lived merrily in the dome. But he did not choose that path, saying he likes to meet new people, new places and travel.

Moreover, he took nothing apart from the food for his performance and what more; he did not eat the meal if any of the children went with an empty stomach from here. 

There used to be a lot of people, but then it became harder for everyone, so now he appeared in different places each day—so it was easier for the adults to pay for the food for the children. 

Wrik nodded and continued eating. Even though the tale was tragic and made most of the children cry, they were laughing now, eating together. The bard smiled at them and then smiled at Wrik. He finished his plate and was ready to leave then. 

Wrik stood up and sped up towards the storyteller. Byul followed.

"Oh, young friend," the bard asked, though he did not stop his legs. "Is there something you need?" 

"You did not finish the story," Wrik said, walking along.

"I did not?" he said, looking back at him. He then gestured at a few soldiers in the way and said, "If I wanted to complete the story, I'll be behind the bars before I'm able to finish. So why not wait for another time. Think this was just an interlude to the tale." 

Wrik frowned and looked at the soldiers. He found they were looking at them and flinched a little. What the bard said appeared to be true. This lot would really put him behind bars if he continued the story, but they appeared too afraid to do such a thing. Perhaps feared the people who listened to the tale. There was only a group of soldiers while the number of folks was in hundreds. Though they had weapons that ran mana current, it better not use it here.

But what struck him was the story. What's there left that could bring a kind bard behind bars? His curiosity rose, but he did not question knowing he would not get the rest of the story now, and there was another matter left. 

"Why did you choose this story?" he asked again. 

The bard thought with body language, genuinely conveying he did not know why he chose this story. "I don't know," he said, looking at the fake sky. "Young friend wanted an unexpected story, and it came to my mind. Though, the relation of the story to this place convinced me to start it."

The words seemed honest and sincere, but Wrik felt something wrong about them. 

"Is it true?" he asked. He tried a firm voice, but even with that, he felt it shook a little. "The story, I mean. Is that true?"

"Truth. Lie. What are those?" the bard asked. "In my travels, I have learned a few fundamental truth and the one about truth and lie fascinates me still. Some may think the is an obvious line between Truth and False, and may even be opposite to each other. But in the core they were quite similar. There very well be a line between them, but it's not that obvious, but rather vague. Sometimes, a Lie may mask itself, and with honestly, it could really turn up as a Truth."

Wrik's eyes shone. 'I lie all the time even if there is no need for it,' he thought, 'am I honest?' 

"I try to convey the tales honestly, but not too much. An old friend once told me, you have to be a bit of a liar to tell a story to have the greatest impact and I learned that is quite true. The tales are honest and true." He stopped for once. "And if you mean the other thing; then, this one actually happened." 

The bard started walking again, and something of his body language told him he did not want Wrik to follow behind him.

"I'll come to listen to the end of the tale," he shouted. 

"You have to put more effort into it then," the bard said, never looking back. "I walk silently here, and appear all over the place to sing the songs and tell the long-forgotten tales."

Wrik's eyes never left the disappearing man, and when the bard finally disappeared, he sighed. He looked at Byul and said, "It should be time for us to return." 

Byul nodded and gave him a paper. "The girl who you left me with told me to give this to you." 

Wrik took it and found it was a message. It said if he needed to find her, then look for her at the address. Well, it was not an address, but just the name of a shop where she works. It would do with just the name. 

Wrik collected the paper into the spatial pouch and the two of them went their way towards the dome. He wondered why no one came as of yet to find him, and just then, he found Anton walking in their way.

Wrik's face brightened, and then an arch appeared in his brows. Something about Anton's body language told him all was not well. 

An angry scowl appeared on Anton's face when he saw the injuries on them. He was about to say something, but Wrik opened his mouth first. 

"We are alright," he said. "Is there something wrong?"

Anton nodded. "You two were not the only ones who got attacked. a few people assaulted us in the way, fortunately, none were badly injured. But the worse thing was I could not do a thing about it. In the end, Sorus—the resort keeper, saved us."

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END OF PART THREE: A LIE.

NEXT, FINAL PART: A SWORD IS DRAWN.

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The third part end here and it went with another note on lies. I think it was far better than the initial two arcs, though it held as many words combining the first two with over 130000 words. Tell me what you like and dislike about the arc.

The final part won't be that long, the first volume will end in 60k - 80k more words.

Thank you.