Arthurian Cultivation

After explaining the rules, Amergin continued to share important information. The likely location of the conman, what we could do to find him, which mostly involved finding a certain root, and more. Sephy fought to stay polite, but it was clear she would rather wring him dry of all his knowledge.

I tried to balance things out, occasionally adding in jokes or distractions that the strange ‘travelling cultivator’ seemed to appreciate. I could feel something resonate between us as we spoke, a sense of connection like I had had with Fash the brewer.

As the night grew dark and the fire required extra dead wood to keep it going, we finally got the last of the details out of him and Sephy settled down. Bors had kept an eye out on watch the whole time, refusing to risk something attacking even with the sort of druid in our midst. Though occasionally he would ask a question here or there. One of which caught my complete attention.

"This Green Knight seems like you respect him deeply. What of the stories of him hunting down Steels who come into the mountains?"

"Oh, that’s quite true, and while he does take exception to people making a nuisance so close to this icon of his power, it is more often something invited. The Grand Oak is a prize too tempting. Many a Steel has swept through and felt its power, been too used to being powerful, and tried to just dip in and grab a few treasures. If that’s not their mistake, they’re often escorting Irons who they send beneath its boughs for their own profit. He takes a dim view of such things, and so they earn his attention." Amergin grinned.

That made sense to me. At that level of power the threats were few and far between. To my senses the Grand Oak resonated with power. I could not imagine what a Steel might notice, what treasures they would spot just lying out, waiting to be claimed.

"The Oak Lord is not as petty as you might imagine. Generations of druids have risen to Steel under those boughs. Only those whose commitment to balance was inferior to their selfish desire to progress have found themselves challenged to his game."

"So you’re here to warn us?" Bors asked, one eye still on watch.

"Indeed, you’re good people. Or so it seems. I do not want you accidentally getting your head cut off."

"He’d come personally for us?" I spluttered. I found that hard to believe.

"Oh no, mostly the Grand Oak handles that. It will drop some bears on you if you’re not careful. The place is dangerous even to druids. It is a place where nature, our realm and the fae are twisted together. Nature demands a certain level of competition and survival, and it is heightened in there. However, as that little parasite has proved, it is more than possible to survive, and even thrive. Break the rules though and you’ll bring special attention." He took that opportunity to stoke the fire.

"So, any other questions?"

"Is it not just safer to not take anything, given the first rule?" Bors asked first.

"Honestly, the best approach if you find a treasure is to ask, is this helpful to me or those who dared venture with me? If so, take the treasure. If you can consume it while under the boughs, do so. If it is something you honestly need but cannot use just yet, and intend to use all of it, yourself or between your group, then it will be fine. If in doubt, temper your greed and leave it be."

"You’re being remarkably accommodating. I have to ask, are you not involving yourself in hunting this scavenger?" Sephy asked.

"I will not. I have my own purpose here. Besides, the druids seemed satisfied that this would be enough, that more help would do more damage than aid."

"Should I congratulate you?" I asked, intrigued to know if—

"Only if we meet again under a different sky. But I will take your well wishes, so we may meet again. I have yet to test myself, and perhaps I shall be found wanting. But I will not wait longer." He smiled to himself.

"Not that this discussion hasn’t been incredibly valuable, but you mentioned a gift or present of some sort," Sephy said.

"Oh yes. You’ll find the Grand Oak difficult to traverse and navigate. I’ll share some suggestions of where to look and landmarks to follow. Still, it will do you no good without some protection. You’re too young, really. The energies of the fae there might overwhelm you. I have been sent with some simple talismans for you. They’ll last about two to three weeks depending on how deep you go, but should keep your minds clear, and the fae whispers from your ears."

"This is a princely gift. What—"

"Before you ask something silly like what debts this incurs, call it payment. You handle a rogue making use of the Grand Oak for their evil. Kill this malicious parasite or at least make your most sincere attempt. I suspect he is a wily thing if he has survived for so long."

"In that case we gratefully accept your gift, and we only wish to have something to give you."

"Why, we can get to that now. I like young Taliesin here. I greatly appreciate stories. To travel is to find wonders. Such things may be places of magic such as the tree whose shadow we rest beside, but more often it is the people. I would know who I share this fire with. I also wouldn’t say no to some of that beer. I suspect it is Fash’s work, is it not?" He grinned, and Bors without hesitation pulled out one of the small casks he had procured back in Alka.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"You’re sure you’re an aspiring druid? You seem very chatty," Bors said as he filled the glass.

"I aim to be a druid of the realm. There are three distinct paths to follow as a druid. Those who defend nature, those who defend our realm, which includes the cultivators, mortals and civilisation as a whole, and those who defend the interests of the fae in our lands. The latter are the rarest. Even I have never met one. The first are the most famous, their actions tend to capture the most attention. The realm, well, you may have met one of my seniors and never known it. We keep an eye on the realms and keep the others informed. It’s not a secret, but it is not the kind of thing spoken of widely."

"Not spies, but watchers."

"Indeed. I seek to join as I love hearing stories. I love to find new places, discover new towns. So if I can help our world, protect the lands I love to travel, and indulge in my great pastime, there is no better future I can picture. Now enough about me. Tell me about yourselves. What manner of oddity brought the Order of the Round Table together?"

"Well, how about we begin with when we found a fae realm," I offered.

"Oh do tell!"

Later that night I was alone on watch. The beer had settled in me, and I was doing some small exercises to work out the last issues with my arm. I had briefly connected with Lance, who had been distraught to miss out on the strange sort of druid. She had told me though that they would be with us by midday tomorrow at the latest, though brought warnings from the informants that the cultists had thrown caution to the wind and were but days behind us.

It had soured an otherwise positive night. I banked up the fire. While I did not feel the cold too much, it kept away simple beasts, and the glamour in my smoke should warn off even weaker fae beasts while letting me sense my surroundings. That is why I was unsurprised when Amergin came over and sat beside me.

"Thanks for sharing your stories," he said as he flopped next to me on the moss and snow, rather than taking a seat on the log. The man had an aura of comfort, like he was at ease anywhere and anytime. I had tried to let it not distract me.

"Thank you for your aid. It will further our quest greatly," I nodded back to him.

"I actually had another reason in coming here, or rather I have discovered one since my arrival." He grinned, looking out with me on the silent forest.

"And what might that be?"

"A talk I had long ago, and now it’s my turn to give it." Amergin paused. "You have what it takes to be a druid."

"I but—"

"Put out what you know of our order from your mind. That is the surface level, that everyone knows. A true druid is something else. I can hear it in your voice. You have already found the start of it."

"I’m not certain what you mean."

"One of the things druids know above all is that words have power. You hear this, people write of this, you feel this in resonance, but I doubt you actually understand it. Answer me this. Have you ever wondered why the fae speak our language?"

"I would have thought that they did it so they could speak with us, but I also now imagine that few fae would bother to accommodate us," I replied, my mind starting to whirl.

"Exactly so. So why do they learn the intricacies of our words?"

"I met a powerful fae once, and the greatest thing I could offer her was entertainment. I do not know what any fae wants beyond that. I do not even know if they covet power as we do. If the stories of the Green Knight are to be believed, they care about certain things deeply, but if all fae were the same then we would have a lot less buildings made of wood."

Amergin smiled next to me, and rolled back so he could look up at the stars above. The view was cut off to the north by the Oak’s vast canopy, making it an even more impressive sight. "Tell me more. What have words done for you?"

"Words have spared me where a blade would have doomed me. But I am weak compared to a fae. Still, as I tell stories I gain power. I know that names are important and can be taken."

"That is part of it. See, I noticed some things as I travelled beyond the Euross, you know, to the distant lands where the common tongue has only the faintest touch of Atlantean shaping it. I have visited fae realms where the humans within have lived so long their very nature has changed, their ears growing long and pointed, their eyes shaped like almonds. All these groups used words, and if I knew the right word at the right time I could change everything. Words can make you fast friends, or bitter enemies."

"The fae, however, they do not speak to each other. Not before they found us. I have been told this by people I trust. They communicate differently, through the very nature of their power. This power cannot lie, it cannot deceive and it cannot speak outside of itself. The fae are themselves completely. There is no space for a story of a place they never visited, or wonders they will never see, no way to imagine a sky with different stars." He reached up towards the twinkling lights above.

"It is why when they speak to us they do not lie. Even as they borrow our greatest tool, they cannot twist it as we can." He paused, looking back to me.

"Why tell me this?"

"You already know part of it. You know how you shape the Round Table with your tales. Do you know how many subtle versions of Ulfast the Ugly I have heard? That in the minds of the people, Inquisitors, that rare flavour of vile paladin, are now assumed to be ugly as well?" He chuckled.

"The power of words is to lie?"

"No. The power of words is to paint a picture in the mind, your own or another, to shape a truth. I have told you of distant lands, of my travels, and you can come with me. You can imagine it, and as you do you grow beyond what you were, your horizons expand. Isn’t it wonderful?"

"I do not disagree. I just feel like there is more to our conversation than a mutual appreciation for the wonder of communication." I felt something, things I was only touching on when I made music, but I could not understand the power he spoke of.

"Maybe I am too early for this chat, and I cannot delay. I have places to go, things to do." He smiled ruefully.

"You will progress, and as you do think of this. There is a power to words. A child can bring low a King by calling him a coward. I can even trick myself by calling beer medicine if I were so inclined. As you dance and perform near the fae and other powerful forces, think hard on this. Understand the truth of this power, of why the fae bother with words. If you do, and I am successful in my upcoming trials, I will be sure to come and find you and we can have another chat."

"Now let me tell you of stars under different skies." He leant back and began to wander despite never taking a step.