Sci Fi & Fantasy / CHERONZON (Prologue and Chapter One)
Prologue
The Calligrapher had a story to tell. If he could only write it down, perhaps the message of the story would soar through time and space and the words would find themselves in the hearts of those with eyes to see it and ears to hear it.
So he sat himself down at his desk and made himself comfortable. Aided by only a single candle, a single roll of parchment, and a single quill with a lonely bowl of ink.
If I don’t tell this story, he thought to himself--no one will. And it’ll be forgotten. We’ll all be forgotten. The darkness in the room enclosed him. Lightning cracked and illuminated the sky outside his rain spattered window. He took his quill in his left hand, dipped it several times for good measure, and began:
Once upon a time… in a place perhaps not so far away, there lived a young prince, wise beyond his years. He lived in a grand old mansion built centuries before him by his mother’s and father’s mothers and fathers. A mansion of ridiculously enormous stature--it was the size of a mountain. The prince had hundreds of loyal servants to tend him--and even one another--around the mansion. The prince too was as loyal to his servants as they were to him. For in his house, service was given in exchange for service rather than currency, which did not exist there. Courtesy, respect, honor and fair exchange were held in the highest esteem in his house, such that currency was unnecessary. Everyone had something to offer. All were welcome in his house, and of the many who came to see it, few of them ever left. The house did not discriminate against its visitors and neither did its caretakers.
He had a princess for a wife, and her name was Cheronzon. She was an elegant woman who paralleled him in wisdom and who often tended to the gardens. He was a very wealthy young man, in a time and place where wealth was measured by the quality of one’s character. Truth be told, treasure chests of gold and jewels were kept in many parts of his house, along with other secret treasures one could only imagine. But all this he never considered the source of his true wealth. His greater wealth may just as well have been his family, his wonderful wife, his libraries with rows upon endless rows of books old and new, his gardens of every tree and flower imaginable, those others who lived with him and loved the house enough to help him maintain it. It may have been the sacred rooms for meditation, contemplation or healing, the enormous kitchens with foreign foods, spices and drinks from all the world over. The wonderful people with whom he and his wife had the pleasure of sharing life with. The prince and princess and anyone who shared there world had all that they could ask of life.
The incredulously large house stood in a marvelous valley and it extended to the edge of a cliff, off which a waterfall cascaded into the river below. The eastern tower offered the most splendid view of this spectacle. It was one of four magnificent towers. At dawn, the house shone like Venus in the early morning sky, a diamond jewel in a valley bed. Nothing surpassed it in majesty. It’s captivating beauty was marveled at by one and all. Enamored and enchanted by it, hundreds traveled everyday to see it, hoping to experience it’s beauty for themselves--perhaps even meet the prince or Cheronzon herself. Not everyone got the opportunity to, the prince and his wife came and went as they pleased, but the house itself--what splendor! The greatest poet would be at a loss for words to describe it in any kind of fairness--much less the feeling of simply being there. It was a paradise.
Alas--what is it about such a paradise that invites tragedy into its midst? Has there ever, in all of our numerous fantasies and outlandish fairytales, existed a golden age that did not meet some terrible, tragic end? If there ever was one--this was not it.
A curse came to befall the house.
One day, without a warning, the princess was gone. Missing. Almost as if she’d never lived in the mansion at all. Grief stricken, the prince searched everywhere but found no clue to her whereabouts, nothing as to how she disappeared. Volunteers from all corners of the house offered their help in various ways to the prince, but to no avail. His wife, his princess was nowhere to be found. The mystery of it all, the lack of any explanation nearly drove the prince to madness. He and all others despaired. Slowly, the house grew dark and fell victim to neglect. Eventually, the prince gave up all hope of ever finding her. He withdrew himself into darkness. Not darkness as he’d known and loved it--a perfect and beautiful darkness--but a darkness sick and twisted, filled with nightmares and despair.
Then, on one ill-fated night, the prince was murdered. Servants found a single knife in the great dining hall, at a chaotic scene of broken chairs and shattered plates--evidence of a struggle. It was stained with his blood.
The knife that killed the prince was poisoned. What followed in the events afterward was a terrible curse. The curse spread quickly, throughout the entire house and everyone in it, sealing them inside and it brought about a rapid degeneration of all life within. The house decayed and withered like a dying flower and so did all the land around it. It became desecrated and haunted by lost spirits of the dead. It was no longer a haven for the weary traveler, nor a home for the sick and homeless--but a lifeless pit of hell.
A desolate cry of anguish reverberated throughout all the lands and the heavens. In order to prevent further spreading of illness and degeneration, the mansion, a living breathing entity like you or I, sealed itself with one last dying breath within its own envelope. In this manner, it would pose no danger to other systems of life; its curse and disease would not spread beyond control.
All those trapped inside were held captive within the decrepit walls, never to be released, trapped for all eternity. The prince’s body was never recovered and nothing of him was ever heard again. The princess was never found. All was lost within the deepest depths of darkness, within a great plague the likes of which had never been seen in the world before. The soundless cry for help that reverberated in the world was heard by everyone, though not everyone acknowledged it.
Thus ended the golden age of the greatest house and the richest valley in the world, replaced now by an age whence no one would dare venture near to it, for fear of being entangled in its chaotic, diseased web. It is said that anyone who wanders too closely to it will inevitably become trapped within--like all those poor souls who once lived there happily--and never escape.
This is perhaps the grimmest tale ever told--and of it there is no happy ending. Woe be anyone who hears this most miserable of all stories, and yet, it must be told. I hope sincerely this tale finds its way to the hearts of all and someone heeds our cry--or else all hope is gone.
Chapter One—Wayward Princess
The truth about Mirth, which very few people knew, was that she was a princess once. That was before she ran away. When she was a child, she lived in the beautiful palace of her mother and father, with its high golden-crowned towers rising like jeweled spears glimmering in the sunlight. Mirth, though, saw less beauty in her palace than she did in the mysterious world outside her palace walls and the wilderness beyond.
Mirth was a fearless child. By the age of three she was already comfortable on the back of a horse and by age four she was already riding on the back of an elephant. As she grew older, her father taught her how to take care of the animals—how to groom the horses, bathe the elephants, feed them and walk them. She often helped the elephant trainers and caretakers with their daily routines and she picked up very quickly on their tasks. Elephants were among her favorite animals. On her tenth birthday she was given her very own elephant to take care of and ride about the palace grounds, over wide plains of soft rolling hills and of desert land as far as her young eyes could see. She named him Eustace and they would be friends for the next two years.
“Eustace told me that he likes to tease the other trainers,” Mirth told her father once, “but don’t tell them….” she laughed. Her father had always known that she had a special talent with that sort of thing. Communicating with the animals in the kingdom was a gift of hers. No one, not even her own parents knew how she did it. She and the beasts just seemed to understand one another. Sometimes her mother would catch her whispering to the horses and see the horses respond to her, neighing softly and stomping the ground. Mirth would gesture to the birds, who would come eagerly flying to perch on her little shoulders. Why, she even once saw Mirth lying belly down in the sand, in front of a diamond backed snake, giggling and imitating its movements with her hand. She startled when the snake struck out—but a laughing Mirth assured her that they must have been playing.
“Imagine…” her father would say to himself, “when she gets older, to be known as ‘Mirth, Queen of the Beasts.’ Wouldn’t that be fantastic?”
The day, however, when Mirth would be crowned as the new Queen did not come.
She had the beauty of a queen, that was sure—and that magnificent hair of hers, it always changed color, always in harmony with the mood of the day. Sometimes at sunset it went a brilliant dark red, with streaks of lighter colors like pink and orange and in the morning it was usually golden-white. Her eyes, though, were dark—and they were always dark, no matter the time of day or the color of her hair.
Mirth was an extremely curious little girl, with an extraordinary and rather unusual sense of independence. She did not like servers bringing her meals and she did not care for tutors for her studies. She preferred to do things herself--and anything that she could do on her own she did do on her own. She asked questions of her parents only on occasion. So it goes that, right under the king’s and queen’s noses, she matured faster than they could’ve known.
Mirth had a secret desire: a desire to explore the lifestyles of the common people. Her mother and father knew of her inquisitive nature, but could never have imagined her curiosity to extend to the lives of the common folk, or to the life of a traveler. But it was not long before her parents began to notice an unusual behavior in her. They would sometimes spot her standing carefully on Eustace’s back and peering as best as she could over the palace wall. In her early childhood years, she was content to just wonder the palace grounds, stomping her little feet around, playing with any little creature she could find. But the older she got, the more she longed to go beyond those high palace walls, the boundaries of her exploration. Naturally, her parents laughed about it at first.
“Mirth,” said her mother, “if you want to go outside the grounds—to the see the markets and such—well then ask! Your father and I would be glad to take you. But I’m afraid you’re still too young to go wandering off on your own.”
But that’s not entirely what Mirth wanted. She didn’t say anything though—she stayed quiet, kept her desires secret. Soon, she was twelve years old and those same desires started to burn even stronger in her adventurous heart.
One afternoon, while her mother and father were busy with the usual business of kings and queens (as they always were) she snuck, hooded in white, passed the golden gates while they were opened for a group of visitors. Crafty as she was, she demanded that her tutors and her keepers leave her to study on her own, which they did, and while they were gone, she fled. She walked the plain and dusty roads of the kingdom beyond the walls she was so accustomed to. She followed the main road leading away from the gate to the open markets, where the sun beat down harshly on shoppers and merchants. This was the first time she saw peoples of all kinds—of different skin colors, different shapes and sizes, different cultures—all meeting here in this one place to trade and talk and laugh with each other’s good company. Mirth kept her hair hidden under her hood, fearing that as she walked from shade to sun someone would notice how it changed color and immediately recognize her.
That day formed a very special part of her memory. She remembered that on that day, as she wandered about, she met a particularly interesting stranger whom she found very interesting. He was tall man, slender and rather handsome. His skin was whiter even than Mirth’s, whose fairness was unusual for the people of her country. He had very dark brown hair that looked black in the shade and grayish eyes. He wore black trousers, a silk black shirt with a collar that covered half of his neck and a black travelers robe over it. He was standing over a display of exotic fruits, picking them up and smelling them. Mirth went and stood next to him, pretending to pay more attention to the fruit than to him. She peered over the fruit with her hands behind her back, standing on her toes and nearly fell over. She tried her best to play it off smoothly.
“Well hello,” said the man, turning to look at her. Mirth found herself caught off guard with how quickly he acknowledged her.
“Oh—hi.” she said. She figured the man was just being friendly, as he went right back to investigating the fruits after saying hello to her. Mirth hesitated a bit, but mustered up the courage to speak.
“So, what are these?” she said, picking up a round, reddish-yellow colored fruit.
“I’m not sure,” said the man. “But they look and smell like they may taste good. I think I’ll take some home with me.” He reached into his side pocket and pulled out four silver coins.
“Sir, will these do?” he said to the merchant standing behind the display. The merchant nodded and took the coins. He took out an old and sack and packed away five or six of the fruits into it and gave it to the pale-skinned man.
“Thank you,” the fair man said, taking the sack. He looked down at Mirth with gray eyes. “Would you like one?”
“Yes please,” said Mirth. She took the fruit, examined it a little bit, and then bit into it. It was sweet and very good. “Thanks very much,” she said. “What’s your name, sir?”
The man answered.
“The sun is very harsh in this part of the world, isn’t it little one?” he said. “I must admit I’m not accustomed to this sort of climate.”
Whatever his name was, Mirth did not remember it later. She just remembered thinking how it sounded like royalty. It was a beautiful name, whatever it was. There was something special about that man. He was kind, but there was some kind of intense power radiating from him, like an aura. Gentle but strong. Somehow when she later thought of him, images of the sea would enter her mind. Something about him made her think of the ocean and she didn’t know what it was. Mirth thought that she would never forget his face—not that one. She thought.
What Mirth remembered next was walking down the road with that man. He was speaking of his homeland, of his wife and of his house. He said he’d come to Mirth’s country to see the markets, that he’d heard much about them. He wanted to trade and take foreign things back to his home to show his people. He loved to collect souvenirs, antiques and other little trinkets from different places, he said.
“You really should see my home. It’s the biggest and most magnificent house in all the world,” he said. “Bigger than you can imagine. When you are old enough to travel the world, you should pay me a visit, little princess.”
Mirth startled.
“Don’t worry,” the man assured her, kneeling down to her and putting a finger to his lips, “I won’t tell.” Mirth breathed a sigh of relief, but still she pulled her hood a little more over her head.
“Are you like the lord of that house, sir?” she asked.
“Something like that,” he said, standing back up.
“Where is your house?” said Mirth.
“Oh, it’s very far from here I’m afraid.”
Mirth bowed her head and frowned. “I am old enough to travel. I don’t want to be a queen….” she said. “I want to see the world!”
“And who says queens can’t travel?” said the man. “Be patient, princess. There’s a time to travel and there’s a time to settle. I’m sure your palace would ache with sadness if you left it now.”
Mirth pouted a little, but she did not whine. She was never the type to complain. After all, she was not a child anymore, she was twelve years old. And twelve year olds certainly didn’t whine. So Mirth kept her ideas to herself and decided that she would simply act upon them without permission.
“Well, now I must say farewell.” said the man with a flashing smile. “Good luck to you in all your future travels. And from one traveler to another--be careful. I hope to see you at my house someday, when you’re old enough of course!”
“But how will I know where to find it?” said Mirth.
“Anyone who’s ever been outside of their own country knows how to find it,” was all he said. “Farewell.” And with that, he patted her on the head and walked off. Mirth thought he must be hot in all his black clothes.
Even after he left, she had the feeling she’d just met someone extremely special. Someone unique. And she wanted to find out what made him that. More than this, she wanted to be like him, travel the world as he seemed to do. He seemed like the kind of man who had been anywhere and everywhere. That’s what she wanted to do.
She made a promise to herself that she would not be raised a princess, nor become a queen someday. She wanted to be no one--and experience the lives of all! She promised herself, too, that in the course of her travels she would one day see that man again…and his great house.
A year passed since her little escapade in the markets. The desires that burned in her heart continued to burn brighter as time went on, until she could no longer contain them. She followed less her mind and more her impulses. Then one day at midday, while her parents were out again on royal errands, she broke open her savings jar and she left her palace and her elephants behind. She was at the tender age of thirteen. She left no note, no token of goodbye to her parents and, for a time, she walked the plain and dusty roads of her kingdom, hooded and cloaked from those who might recognize her. Mirth spent her first night out sleeping behind a merchant’s fruit stand and she found it quite exciting. She awoke early enough the next morning to leave before he re-opened and found her.
Cloaked from the harsh sun and familiar eyes, she stayed for a day in the markets, buying food and water for herself. She spoke to friendly people whenever she got the chance and told them that she was a traveler who wished to see the world. Every now and then someone (a person who may have visited the palace at some time) commented that she looked familiar and it was enough to remind her not to get too comfortable. She was still in her parent’s kingdom and on her first day out a message had already been sent out to the peoples of the land that the princess was missing. Luckily enough for her, nobody really knew what she looked like--except that her hair changed color in the light.
Mirth spent her second night sleeping outside, on the side of a small alley road. It was such a beautiful night and it was not as though, in a peaceful kingdom such as hers, she needed to worry about burglars or men with malicious intent--there were none. Those are problems only faced by people of our current era. In fact, she noticed that there were quite a few people--merchants, travelers, other eccentric people--who were quite content to sleep under the stars with nothing to cover their heads. It was not uncomfortable either. That night, before she fell asleep Mirth thought to herself “why, I could live like this forever!”
That night, however, Mirth dreamt the most horrible dream she’d ever had in her life.
She was in a dark and dreary home where an omnipresent feeling of depression and despair was inescapable. She sat in a corner of a room alone and she was crying, crying as she’d never cried in her life. She felt such despair. Someone dear to her, someone she loved had just died. She never knew death was such a horrible thing. In fact, her parents taught her just the opposite. She had never grown up with sad or fearful thoughts of death. But here, now…it seemed so horrible, so sad. The grief was intense, overwhelming. Then she realized she was not the only one crying. Somewhere in the distance, she heard hundreds of desperate wails and howls. Cries of grief or pain or both. She covered her ears, trying to shield herself from the horrible sounds. She closed her eyes as hard as she could and hid her face in her knees and wanted desperately for all of it to go away.
Then she woke up.
She wiped tears from her eyes and recomposed herself. She shook the heart wrenching sounds from her head. They were still there, fading away like echoes as she woke. Ripples in the ocean of her mind, caused by a great impact. It was all a dream. For the first hour or so after she woke, she felt like she had been traumatized. That entire day she could not, for the life of her, keep her hands steady and her heart was so fluttery she thought it might fly into her throat and choke her. She trembled at awkward times and sometimes broke out in a cold sweat, with no control over it.
But Mirth was a girl of extraordinary spirit, and within a mere few hours she remained undaunted in her quest of exploration. She did not want to go back home.
“I’ll be fine,” she told herself. “One bad night. That’s all.”
She never had the nightmare again.
With enough money to support herself for at least a year, Mirth continued to wander farther and farther from her homeland. What began as a simple, innocent curiosity to see and meet new peoples of the world led to a disassociation from her original home as she slowly wandered farther and farther away, without quite being aware that she was leaving her home behind. She met new and interesting people, happy to take her in when she needed a place to stay and just as content to allow her on her own way when she assured them she was returning home. For the first month or so, she obviously had no intention whatsoever of going home. The hardships of traveling alone took longer to settle in with her, even at her age, than with most. For a time, new people and exciting places kept her preoccupied enough to not think of home. Her kingdom disappeared slowly into the horizon behind her. Familiar sandy desert lands turned into soft plains, wide rolling hills and fields of grain where the sun didn’t beat down so hard on her delicate white skin.
Eventually, homesickness gnawed at her though and several times did she plan on taking her things, packing away her souvenirs and heading off for the path home. Yet still, her adventurous days only led her away… until she no longer missed her home and had forgotten who it was and who she was meant to become there. As exciting as her travels were, they continued on without an ending, which was not her original intent. She knew that vacations and adventures had to come to an end—but somehow had forgotten that during the course of her own. She had even forgotten about Eustace!
Mirth would have become a very lost princess indeed. She might’ve ended up a poor beggar on some foreign street, far from her palace--but fortune must have favored her. She met only the best people, from all kinds of colorful cultures. They all contributed in some way to help her continue traveling, never staying for more than a month in one place.
It was her vibrant personality. She was so friendly and so lively that anyone who met her liked her immediately. Some of them loved her. Several years passed and she grew older as she traveled and the older she grew the more beautiful she became and people liked her even more. Even the one’s who’s hearts she may have left wounded upon her departure. She never lingered, never became attached to one place. And that is why she nearly became a lost soul--no purpose in the world, no family, no lasting friends. She became hardened by her new life as a traveler, toughened inside and out. She developed an almost rugged, travel-hard personality, though it didn’t match with her fragile and soft outward appearance. She’d grown beautifully, a young woman with a cute face; straight, longer than shoulder-length hair, and a small, gently curved body.
Fortune, though, must have favored her. At the age of twenty, in the fall, she was staying at an inn she’d found in a small countryside village, called the West Wind Inn. The village was surrounded all around by vast grasslands that seemed to go on forever except for a snow-topped mountain range looming in the western horizon. The mountains in the west were already calling to Mirth…begging she go to see them. So she was preparing to make her next trip. In her room, her belongings (few though they were) were packed in a single travel pack. She felt a sense of excitement and simultaneous fear, quite intense actually, when she looked upon the western mountains. She longed to understand the source of that fear…just what was beyond those mountains? She had been staying at the West Wind Inn for no more than a week.
There, one night in the inn’s tavern, where she was enjoying a well-deserved cup of wine was where she met Azae. He was a white-bearded elderly man with well groomed shoulder length white hair and sparkling blue eyes. He wore two-layered robes, which held unfamiliar designs and symbols on the outer layers. The inner layer overlapped, left over right, with silver designs on the lapels. His robes were cotton and they were rugged and travel worn. He also wore old and worn down brown leather sandals with thick straps. His long white beard was tied in the middle and half of his long hair was also tied back, giving him an eccentric appearance.
She had walked into the tavern and after surveying the place for an empty table, took a seat and ordered a cup of wine. It was her third night in the inn, and her third night in the tavern. Sitting at the table next to her, alone, was Azae. He sat there with his hands clasped on the table, with a pleasant smile on his face, staring at the patrons of the tavern. His eyes stood out from the rest of his face, like pools of liquid sapphire.
Mirth glanced at him and quickly looked away. He didn’t move, but she got the impression that he noticed her looking at him. She glanced sideways again. Interesting, she thought. He just sat there, though there was something in his expression that seemed like he was waiting for somebody. Keeping her head forward, Mirth used her peripheral vision to look at Azae, though it wasn’t easy.
She wrinkled her brow when she noticed something strange: she could barely make out the old man’s shape at all from her peripheral vision. She saw something white, like an aura, emanate from the space where he should have been. Surprised, Mirth looked at him again before she could stop herself and this time his eyes shifted to her. She looked away, lifted her cup and sipped her wine. Patrons around her were shouting and laughing and singing. Most of them were men, and most of them drank beer.
“Hello.” he said unexpectedly.
“Hi.” said Mirth a little awkwardly, but with a smile. She hesitated then said, “Do I know you?”
He pressed his lips together, titled his head and looked up at the corner of his eye.
“Hm.” he said. “Possibly.”
Mirth didn’t say anything.
“Do I seem familiar to you?”
“Yes and no.” said Mirth. A man came and asked Mirth if she wanted more wine and she said, “No, thank you. What’s your name, sir?”
“Azae.” Azae said.
“I think I’ve heard that name before, somewhere. Though I don’t think I’ve ever met you in person.” said Mirth.
Azae shrugged.
“Well it’s very nice to meet you--” said Azae.
“--Mirth.” said Mirth. “It’s nice to meet you too, Azae.” She smiled at him and extended her hand. Azae didn’t seem to expect the gesture, but he grabbed her hand and shook it anyway.
Azae sipped his drink. Mirth could tell it was wine, because it stained his white beard. He wiped it away. He had an easy going and content smile on his face.
“Are you alone, young lady?” he asked lightly.
“Well, yeah. For the time being, anyway.” said Mirth.
“Meeting someone?”
Mirth sighed, “Oh I don’t know…maybe I will, later on.”
Azae raised his eyebrows. “That so?”
Mirth paused.
“Well I’ve just met you.” she said.
Azae laughed. His laugh was warm and elderly. “That’s true!” he said. “I guess that means I was waiting for you.”
Mirth smiled and drank her wine. “Guess so.”
“So now that you’re here, how are things with you?”
“Okay, I suppose. Things have been better.”
“Oh? And why’s that?”
Mirth smirked. “It’s a bit personal.”
“I see.” said Azae. “Forgive me.”
“No, not at all.” Mirth said. “I suppose it just comes and goes, you know?--this feeling of loneliness. Well, what can you do--the traveler’s life!” She raised her palms and laughed it off. For Mirth, it was much more than loneliness that bothered her, but she wasn’t about to admit it to a stranger.
Azae stood up. Mirth looked at him and at first thought that he was going to leave. Instead, he took a seat in the chair across from her.
“Mind if I keep you company?” he asked politely.
“Not at all!” said Mirth shaking her head. “I could use the company, I guess.”
“Yes, I think you can.”
Mirth didn’t say anything.
“Ah, yes, the travelers life.” said Azae. “Lonely at times, I know. It comes with the lifestyle we choose. Humans, you know, aren’t exactly meant to travel alone. It is not practical nor natural. That is probably why most of us enjoy company, especially when we are experiencing the vastness of the world around us and how little we are in view of it all.”
“I suppose you‘re right.” said Mirth agreeably. “I mean, I’ve found myself alone a lot of times. It’s fine at first, but after a while I get tired of it.”
“I know what you mean.” said Azae. “Humans do well in groups, you see. We are, after all, social creatures, and we function best as pack or herd oriented animals do. When one becomes separated from its group, it is vulnerable, weaker.”
Mirth raised her cup to her lips. She nodded her head. “So what about you?” she asked him. “Are you alone too?”
“Well, not anymore.” he said smiling at her.
“Ah.” laughed Mirth. “So what brought you here then?”
“The wind did, I suppose. As it did you, am I correct? Though I am not here as a wanderer, but with purpose.”
Mirth looked at Azae and said, “What purpose is that?”
“Perhaps I will tell you, if we should come to be friends.”
“I don’t have a purpose.” Mirth said. “I’ve wandered from place to place for no reason other than to satisfy my own curiosity, I guess. Ever since I was a little girl.”
“Don’t you have a home to which you return now and then?”
Mirth almost laughed. “No, I don’t. I left it a long time ago. When I was twelve.” she admitted.
For the first time in the conversation, Azae looked surprised. Candlelight flickered in his blue eyes.
“Such a young and tender age.” he said. “On your own?”
“I ran away.”
“Why?” he asked, genuinely interested. Mirth got the impression that Azae was a man who listened intently and whole-heartedly.
“I just wanted to see the world. I was a foolish little girl.” Mirth said shruggingly.
“Do you miss your home?”
Mirth thought about it for a little bit. She played unconsciously with her cup of wine, swishing it around like a child. “No.” she said. “I never felt like I was meant for the life I was destined to have.”
Azae apparently didn’t understand what she meant, and she thought twice about whether or not she should tell him. “I don’t know if you’d believe me.” she added.
“I have no reason to think you a liar.” said Azae. “Please, continue. I promise to reserve all judgment and words of criticism.”
Mirth felt a little embarrassed when she said, “I was princess. And I was supposed to be queen one day. But,” she added hastily, “that kind of life just wasn’t for me! At heart, I wanted to explore, and that led me to leave my home behind.”
“I can understand that.” said Azae very sympathetically. “May I ask: where are you from?”
“A country called Ensia.” said Mirth. “Far south and east of here, in the desert lands.”
“Ensia….” said Azae, wrinkling his forehead and looking up. “Yes, I know the one. I’ve been there once. Graciousness! It is a wealthy kingdom, isn’t it?”
“It is, I guess, in certain things. I know it exports a lot of silks and spices overseas.” said Mirth.
“You are the runaway princess from Ensia?”
“I was.”
“I believe I’ve heard of you!”
“Really? Of me?”
“Of course, you were their princess after all. Your absence must have really caused a stirring.”
“Well, that makes sense. I never gave it much thought, but I suppose my parents would have sent the message of me missing everywhere. To be honest with you, I’m glad I wasn’t found by anyone. Ensia isn’t where I’m meant to be.”
“You seem very certain of that,” said Azae.
“It’s a feeling. But it’s such a strong one, and it’s what keeps me going.”
Azae said, “Do you feel like…you are searching for something?” It was obvious he was trying to understand Mirth.
After a moment, Mirth replied, “No, not anymore.”
“Why is that?”
“I used to imagine that someday my travels would lead somewhere, to some place or some other life where I would finally feel fulfilled. Then, I would stop wandering and finally settle down. Now I see how foolish I was to think that. This road I’m on, it doesn’t lead anywhere, it winds on forever.”
Azae leaned in close to her and said, “I know exactly what you mean.”
“I was a foolish child,” said Mirth, in an attempt to brush the matter off.
“I wouldn’t call it foolishness,” said Azae. “It was instinct, I think. You know, when you’re out in the wild, especially when you’re alone, instinct plays a significant role in your survival. Instinct along with proper knowledge. Some people,” Azae drank his wine, “some people think its foolish to rely on instinct.” He smiled knowingly, “but they only say that until the road gets bumpy, or they lose the road altogether. Traveling alone, or surviving in the great open wilderness of our earth is no simple matter.”
“Yeah.” said Mirth. “I believe you. I can imagine what it’s like. I’ve never been lost before, thank goodness, but I have traveled alone from time to time and I can say for certain that I prefer traveling in a group. Mostly, that is how I’ve gotten myself around. Otherwise, I know that I surely wouldn’t have survived all this time. I think I’m a very fortunate person.”
“Fortunate, or gifted.” said Azae.
Mirth didn’t know how to accept the complement, as it apparently was. She didn’t say anything.
A server passed her table and she raised her hand quickly to call him over. When he did, she asked him for a few rolls of bread; she was getting hungry and had enough wine. Azae didn’t want anything.
Afterward, they sat quietly for a few moments. There was no awkwardness in the silence, rather, Mirth felt very comfortable around Azae, even when they didn’t speak. She wondered if it was the wine. A look of pleasant content occupied his expression the entire time. He did not look directly at Mirth, but smiled and stared and looked around at the people around them in almost a kind of thoughtful daze. Mirth felt content too, just to sit there in his company. She liked him already. Azae eventually turned his charming gaze back to Mirth.
“Have you ever heard of a sage?” Mirth asked him.
Azae nodded.
“You remind me of one.” she said. “They’re supposed to be wise old folk who travel the world and live impossibly long lives. They’re said to manipulate the affairs of countries and human lives.” She paused, as a thought seemed to come to her and cocked her head slightly. “Are they good or wicked, I wonder?”
Azae didn’t say anything. Same pleasant expression.
“Are you a sage, Azae?”
“You know…some questions are better answered through time and experiences than through words.” said Azae.
“I’ve heard tales of sages and I’ve met people who’ve claimed to have known one. But it’s said that only a few exist in the entire world, maybe only eight or nine of them. I’ve heard names as well…I can almost swear I’ve heard your name before, somewhere.”
“Do you think I am a sage?”
“I don’t know. Are you?”
“No,” he said with what seemed to be a mock sigh. “Lamentably, I am only human.”
It seemed to Mirth like Azae might have been playing, or being sarcastic, but she found it hard to tell.
“Only human, eh?” said Mirth. “Well I’m inclined to believe that, but…” she trailed off. She looked at him suspiciously and couldn’t help but break into laughter. Azae laughed too.
“What is so funny?” he laughed. There was so much joy and warmth to his laugh, he seemed to brighten the atmosphere around them, lighten it.
“I don’t know,” said Mirth. “It’s you, I guess. I don’t mean that in a bad way!” she added quickly. “I don’t know. You’re an interesting person, Azae, I’m glad to have met you.”
*insert more dialogue leading to Azae’s invitation, written below. Is this entire conversation too long and drawn out? What should I add here? How does Azae convince Mirth to join him on an adventure?*
“Then join me. On a journey.”
The server came to the table with a small platter and served Mirth four or five rolls of steaming, freshly baked bread, the scent of which made her mouth water instantly with desire.
Mirth though about saying, “I don’t know if I can trust you,” but it simply didn’t seem right. Her knowledge told her that she knew absolutely nothing about Azae, but her instincts told her that there was nothing wicked about him nor anything to be wary of. Mirth was a woman who, at times, trusted intuition more than reason. She didn’t know if it was right or appropriate or even wise, but it was the way she was.
Instead, this was what she said: “What kind of a journey?”
She took a roll of bread and bit into it. “I’ve been on many journeys now.” she said with a bit of pride and a full mouth.
Azae let his head bob from side to side, “Mm…,” he said thoughtfully, “an adventure of sorts. One of special significance.”
Mirth chewed her bread. Then she tore off another piece and looked at Azae. “And you think I’m fit for such a special journey?”
“I do.” said Azae flatly.
Mirth ate her piece of bread and didn’t say anything. Azae took a sip of wine from the cup in front of him.
“It would not be fair to say that you have wandered aimlessly thus far,” he said, “but I would have purpose for you--and in exchange, I will be your guide. Am I mistaken in saying that you need one?”
Mirth swallowed her bread and looked hard at Azae. Then her face softened and she sighed and rested her chin on the palm of her hand.
“I’m think you might be right. And you see, that’s my worst fear!” she told him. “I’m afraid that my travels have led me to nothing more than pointless wandering…no purpose, no mission in life.” Her confession just rolled right off of her tongue before she could stop it. “I mean, look at me--here I am, in an inn with nowhere to go but where my heart tells me…which seemed fine at first, but…I don’t know. I don’t even have a reason to be here.” She was starting to talk more to herself than to Azae. She spoke to herself often when she was alone.
“Do you regret leaving your palace?” asked Azae.
“No. I can’t say that I do, because I’ve experienced wonderful things and wonderful people--but….”
“Not all who wander are lost.” said Azae helpfully. It was with his eyes, Mirth noticed, that he smiled. The majority of all his expression came from his twinkling blue eyes, rather than his face. His face was quite stoic.
“Maybe I am.” she said. Slowly, her eyes began to water as images of her homeland entered her mind. Casually and cleverly, she wiped the tears away, pretending to wipe her face.
“I do not believe so.” said Azae. “Someone like you can never really be lost. I think that you’re meant to do great things.”
“And why do you say that?” Mirth questioned skeptically. “Why should I be destined for great things, different from any other wanderer in the world?”
“Because, I sense something different about you. Just what it is, I can’t say now. But it is there.”
“Special.” Mirth scoffed. “Why?”
“It is because of who you are. The mere fact that you think yourself to be common is indicative of your uniqueness! Very few people like to think they are the same as everyone or anyone else.” Mirth sat quietly and did not speak for a little while.
“What’s this special journey you’re on then?” she eventually asked. She could have been more cautious. She might have thought it wasn’t best to set out on a journey with one she’d just met. She also wondered if she was making a mistake. Perhaps, though, it was better than to continue alone, on a road with no destination.
“There is a meeting I must attend.” he said. “A meeting of a very special council. I would like it, Mirth, if you would come with me.”
“What business could I possibly have at this meeting?” Mirth asked.
“None at all, perhaps.” said the sage. “But if you follow me, even if only for a day, you may find a reason.”
Mirth said nothing.
“That’s not much incentive.” she said after a moment of silence, but her tone wasn’t very convictive. She was still weighing her options indecisively.
Azae said, “Then certainly, make no decisions now. Take the night to think it over, and in the morning you can let me know. Sleep on it. If you decide against it, then I will leave you to your own business and that will be that. As the nomads of the east say: ‘so it is, and so it shall be.’”
Mirth thought about it.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll think about it.”
“Tomorrow, meet me at sunrise outside the inn. I will tell you more then, after you’ve had a good night’s sleep, and you can tell me what you decide. How does that sound?” A twinkle flashed momentarily in Azae’s blue eyes.
“Alright. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good,” said Azae. He rose from his chair. “Now I must say good evening and farewell to you, my dear. Once again, it was my greatest pleasure to meet you.” He stood and bowed his head to her. “You know, it does seem that I came here especially to meet you, doesn’t it? Though even I didn’t know it.”
It seemed to be true, Mirth though, but she said nothing of it. “It was nice to meet you too, Azae. Have yourself a good night.”
“Likewise.” Azae turned and left Mirth alone, leaving the tavern.
That night, after saying goodnight to Azae Mirth left the tavern and went back to her room at the inn. It was a small, cozy room with wood floor and all wood furnishings. It had a fire place as well, which Mirth liked. The room was fairly plain with a plain bed, plain white sheets and a single, plain pillow. There was only a single window, and during the day only very little sunlight came through it. She lit a candle when she got in and read a book for a little. Before she knew it, she’d fallen asleep.
She dreamt brief images of a tranquil sea that night, under a clear blue sky and a midday sun. The sun dazzled her with his charming self, his shining rays--and they did not sting her eyes. But the vision was brief, and it changed.
It was a raging sea, under a black and thunderous sky, where clouds twisted and fired their bolts of lightning. The waves were so enormous they were like mountains, forming their own valleys and gorges so that the entire ocean looked like a landscape that constantly, gradually transformed. There was no real land in sight. It was so dark that nothing could be seen save when the occasional bolt of lightning cut across the sky and illuminated the dark sea around it. Mirth was in the middle of it all, though not in body. In the middle of the storm.
A part of her was there, amidst it all. A part of her that was not her body, for her body would have been demolished. She felt that she wasn’t the only one present. There were great and mighty presences all around her, like gods.
No, not gods, she thought. It was the sea itself, and the clouds and the wind and the lightning. They were alive, they each had their own personalities--and they could speak. They were all speaking to Mirth now. She knew what they were saying, somehow. She understood them.
“But I’m afraid.” she said to them. “I don’t know him, I don’t know where he is going.” She could barely hear her own, disembodied voice, over the noise of the storm.
They spoke. They crashed and rumbled and bellowed.
“Mission?” she asked. “No, no--I’m not meant to do such a thing. I can’t be.”
The mountainous waves shifted, forming newly shaped ocean valleys upon the surface. Mirth wandered what could be happening below, in the black depths. A monstrous black cloud passed overhead and it roared with deep thunder, speaking in thunderous words.
“Who is that?” she cried in desperation. “Who is it that grieves, that suffers so intensely?”
The sea answered her. The wind howled in concordance.
Mirth knew it in her dream, but then she awoke in the middle of the night, her book still clutched in her hand. And she’d forgotten what they told her.
That morning, she met the sage called Azae outside of the inn. He was there before her, dressed in is silver, blue and white robes and his leather sandals, a twisted wooden staff held in one hand. Azae greeted her warmly, he smiled when he saw her and bowed his head. She felt uncomfortable at first, for he seemed far too kind. She had no reason to feel suspicious of him, she reminded herself. She’d only ever met the best of people on her travels. Azae was surely among them. And yet, beneath his kindness and lighthearted demeanor, she sensed an intensity within him that deeply unsettled her. It was either that, or else he possessed such a depth of knowledge and experience that she’d never felt with another human being.
She asked him, “So where exactly are you going?” She didn’t yet trust him enough to ask “where are we going?” Azae chuckled when she asked. More and more she getting the impression that he could read her somehow, like he could see her feelings as if she was made of glass.
Azae took a deep breath and became serious. “I’m on a mission, Mirth.” he said. “And I am inviting you to join me--should you wish it.”
“What kind of a mission?” she asked.
“Have you ever heard of the Black Queen?” he said.
“No,” said Mirth, “who is she?”
“That is what they call her. If you follow me, you will meet her. She’s not a queen in the traditional sense, but she is a very special being.”
“What do you mean?” she squinted under the bright morning sun and shielded her eyes with her hand.
“You will see when you meet her.”
“I don’t think I understand,” said Mirth, shaking her head.
“You will,” said Azae simply. “I’m on a journey to see her. I would like you to come with me.”
“For this special council meeting, right?”
“Yes, indeed.”
Mirth felt her face get a little hot with exasperation. She wrinkled her forehead.
“Well--”she said, “what’s so special about this council, or the meeting?”
Azae cooled her exasperation with a refreshing smile and he placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Please, Mirth, just come with me. Those questions are better answered through your own experience than through my words. I promise not to lead you astray. While you’re with me, I will be your mentor and your guide. If you feel at any point that I’ve not remained true to my word, by all means, you can leave me.”
Mirth glared at him.
“What do you say?”
“How long will it take to get there?” asked Mirth.
“About three months.” said Azae.
“Three months?”
“Give or take. We’ll be there in mid-summer.” said Azae. “The Black Queen is far, but meeting her, I can assure you, is well worth the journey.” Azae paused to remove a leather flask of water from his pouch, which he drank from, then said “Ahh.”
“Alright.” said Mirth, releasing a deep breath. “I’ll take you up on that. It‘s not as though I have anywhere to go, anyway.”
And so Mirth followed him that day. They did not head to the mountains in the west, as was Mirth original plan, instead Azae led them eastward. Although he was a physically older man, he walked with the spring and energy of one decades younger. Mirth found it peculiar that he carried a walking staff with him at all, he didn’t seem to need it. She walked beside him on the path away from the village, under a clear morning sky. Mirth’s hair shone a bright platinum color. Azae marveled at her hair: “I’ve never seen anything like it!” he exclaimed, astonished. “And believe me when I say: I’ve seen a lot.”
Mirth immediately found in Azae a sense of direction. She felt as though he could ground her, stabilize her. Perhaps she needed it. Mirth did not immediately learn much more about Azae’s “mission” to attend some council meeting, but she stayed with him nonetheless. She decided she did not want to be alone again. He became as her mentor, teaching her everything about the world she never knew. He was her guide. His word and his influence came to be the only one that could persuade her to sway in a certain direction. She talked to him more about her childhood, and he became the only one who knew the secrets of her past, her childhood life as a princess and how she ran away. He endearingly nicknamed her “the wayward princess.” Not once though did he say or imply that she should not have left or that she ought to return home someday. Mirth appreciated that. Home was only a distant memory for her. She rarely visited and did not linger on memories.
It was because of Azae that Mirth did not lose herself in such a big world. She had something, someone else to follow other than just her instincts, or the winds. It was exactly what she needed, and she knew. She knew, or at least she felt, that without a sage like him, her life would have met a dead end. An end met alone in some foreign country, far off from home. That was not an end she wanted for herself.
Azae led them east for a few miles. They were well prepared: they each carried packs filled with food and water to last them until the next town. Typical travel foods for Mirth were bread, fruits, grains, nuts and seeds. When she traveled she never spent much time alone in “open land” (wild, untouched land between cities and villages), it was far too dangerous and she wasn’t well equipped nor very knowledgeable about survival in the wild. And so when she traveled alone, she always took the shortest route possible to the nearest city or village where she knew she’d have food and a place to stay. On some occasions she traveled with a group, in which case she could afford to be a little less careful.
Azae knew how to travel alone in the wild, Mirth learned. He was well versed and well trained in survival methods. He knew what things one could live off of in any given environment, if necessary of course, as when unexpectedly caught in a situation with no food or water. He also knew and taught Mirth what types of plants or little creatures she ought to avoid, poisonous kinds.
“In a rainforest, for example,” he explained, “you’d be surprised what all kinds of insects you can live off of, for several days at least before having to find a greater source of food. Of course, that’s only in the unfortunate case that you’ve found yourself without enough food. The safest way is simply to always be prepared, ration your food and water carefully before you set out.”
“Right.” said Mirth. She liked that much better than the idea of having to hunt wild game, or live off insects. She didn’t know how to hunt. Azae didn’t either, he only knew how to fish. He said that he didn’t eat any meat other than fish except under extreme circumstances, if he had too. He, like Mirth, lived mostly off raw fruits, vegetables, grains, nuts and seeds, and fish when they caught it.
The road Azae and Mirth took east led out of the village and into the grasslands beyond, then passed that they walked through farmlands where crops of corn, barley and wheat were grown. There were very few other travelers on the road, except for the occasional farmer, apparently busy. Azae told Mirth that a about a day and a half away would be a rancher who would sell them horses for a good price, which they would take further east until they got to the ocean. Mirth was ecstatic at the sound of that word.
“The ocean!” she cried. She nearly jumped out of her shoes and hugged Azae. “Oh, I’ve wanted to sail the ocean for so long!”
“Oh, good!” said Azae brightly. “I love being out at sea, it’s as a second home for me. So, anyhow, we’ll travel on foot until nightfall and then set up camp for the night.” Mirth nodded.
They traveled the same road all day, stopping often to snack. Azae advised it would be best to eat small snacks frequently to keep up their energy. He told Mirth to eat a lot more nuts and seeds, more than what she was used to--but she found that it did help. They also stayed well-hydrated so in the end the day-long walk was not too difficult.
When night fell they set up a small camp on the side of the road, where Azae took out a few stones from his sack and assembled them in a circle. They were out of the farmlands by now and the terrain had become a little more rugged: the hills were larger and more numerous and the grass was shorter. They would soon be going into the mountains. Azae then produced a pair of interesting stones from his pouch--they were a dark, clay-red color. He held them up for Mirth to see and winked at her. With one swift motion he struck one with the other and a spark immediately flashed and burst into flame. He dropped the stones into the circle where the fire burnt.
“How did you do that?” said Mirth, who was familiar with the tedious and aggravating task of trying to start a fire the traditional way.
“Oh, I’ve been around long enough to learn my share of tricks.” said Azae. Mirth thought that it was more than just a trick. But she said nothing else. Over the fire, they cooked raw vegetables and some freshly packed fish that Azae had saved from the inn. He must’ve kept it well preserved to last the day. It was a good dinner.
Mirth had never spent a journey with just one other person before, and she was afraid it would turn out to be rather awkward at certain times. This did not turn out to be the case with Azae though and she felt relieved. They allowed one another space when necessary and she never felt the least bit uncomfortable in his company. Mirth found it quite wonderful to be sleeping under the stars again, just like she had on the first night she ran away from home. She thought about telling Azae the horrid dream she’d had, only once, that second night after she‘d run away. She decided not to. Not yet, anyway.
The next day, Azae woke Mirth up around sunrise, saying “If we leave now, we can get to the ranch and purchase horses before the sun gets too hot.” They packed away their things and were back on the road. It took less than half the day to get to the ranch and because they spent nearly the entire time talking, the time went by in no-time. That seemed to happen quite often in Azae’s company. He had a great depth to him, both of knowledge and experience of life that Mirth found nearly unfathomable. He was like no one she’d ever known. For a moment she allowed herself to believe perhaps he was hundreds or even thousands of years in age. Was that possible?
He would say things like: “Last I was here, beautiful black birds roamed the fields, but they’ve since gone extinct,” or “The landscape here changes with every generation it seems.” He knew so many things--too many things--usually in great detail, that a man of ordinary span of life wouldn’t know.
The ranch was enormous: there was a central house made of wood with horse stalls outside and there was an enormous circular horse corral behind it which must have been several acres in diameter. It stood on the top of a great hill in the grass plains. The mountains were still miles off in the east.
Mirth saw trainers working with young, aggressive horses who had little experience with humans and children who rode on the older, gentler ones. The ranch was beautiful, well kept; all of the horses seemed to enjoy very comfortable living quarters with plenty of workers to spoil them and an excess of open space to run. The horses might have had it better than the people keeping them!
When Azae and Mirth arrived, a bent, pleasant-looking old fellow with a cane came out of the house to greet them in the front yard. His skin was sun dried, wrinkled and dark. He had bushy black eyebrows and an equally bushy mustache that covered his entire mouth. His eyes were lined with smile wrinkles and looked permanently squinted, but they had a certain charm and sparkle about them. When he smiled, his eyes narrowed and wrinkled even more. The hair on his head was black, wiry and sweaty. He smelled of horses and wet dirt, but Mirth didn’t find it offensive.
“Afternoon, sage,” he said in an accent Mirth did not recognize, “I been expectin’ you. Whenever you’re on the move, word gets around here real quick, so I thinks to myself: ‘Azae, he’ll be comin’ around here real soon. If he’s in this area, he’ll be needin’ horses from someone he can count on’ you know what I mean? Healthy ones, strong ones.”
“Good to see you, Maurice.” said Azae, who shook the man’s hand. “Thank you, I know I can count on you.” The man smiled and bowed his sweaty head.
“Nobody pampers their horses like we do,” Maurice continued with no hesitance, “and happy horses means good horses, you know that? It’s the truth. We don’t “break” ‘em in here. Stupid, barbaric idea. Nope, we get to know ‘em, befriend ‘em, so that they trust us. That’s the way to make good horses.”
“How right you are,” said Azae. “Here, I’d like you to meet someone.” Mirth came forward and extended her hand. Maurice smiled and bowed again several times, shaking her hand.
“My pleasure, my pleasure!” he said. “How nice to meet you, young lady. It’s just like Azae’s luck to end up travelin’ with such a beauty like you.” They all laughed politely. Mirth found the man to actually be quite charming, in his own awkward way. “So how’re you likin’ travelin’ with the old man, eh?” he said. “He as crazy as they say he is?”
Mirth laughed. “Oh…I don’t think I’ve known him long enough to have a say in that.” she said, glancing awkwardly at Azae.
“I bet he is.” said the man, winking. “Folk always say whenever Azae comes around, there’s bound to be somethin’ out of the ordinary (he pronounced it “ordinree”) happenin’.” Azae only laughed a little and scratched his beard. “Yes, well…” was all he said.
“Well come on, let’s have a look at s
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Okay first off, I really like the fairy tale opening done by the calligrapher. You do make a good job of keeping that feel to the story apparent in the prologue. My only suggestion for improvement on this suggeestion is watch the use of too many flowely adjactives. When basing the structure of that section on a fairy tale, remember that they tend to be simplistic in nature. You’ve got some great word choice, don’t get me wrong. I just don’t think that opening is the greatest place for them (for example: “The incredulously large house stood in a marvelous valley and it extended to the edge of a cliff, off which a waterfall cascaded into the river below.” This could be simplified to make the fairy tale flow of the prologue more consistent.
Beside that note, it is a good opening, and sets us up really well.
Okay, I was having a bit of flow issue in the the begining of chapter one. “The day, however, when Mirth would be crowned as the new Queen did not come” That line just feels out of place there. I think move it a few paragraphs down, perhaps.
“But that’s not entirely what Mirth wanted. She didn’t say anything though—she stayed quiet, kept her desires secret. Soon, she was twelve years old and those same desires started to burn even stronger in her adventurous heart. ” Expand on this a little more. This is personality changing stuff happening here, and will help us care about the character of Mirth more as the time goes on.
“The man answered….Whatever his name was, Mirth did not remember it later.” Excellent. This was fantastic.
“Even after he left, she had the feeling she’d just met someone extremely special…” Flesh this paragraph out more. Again, life altering emotions and conclusion are happening in Mirth. We as the readers need to understand them more.
You have got a very good begining to a great epic story here. You have a good sense of dialouge. Rather than burn up credits for you, here are some general notes for the rest of it:
-Watch tenses. You have a tendency to switch tenses when you shouldn’t and it makes it a bit difficult to follow.
-Do not fear fleshing out the internal emotions and impressions or Mirth. We need to know her as well as we can to enjoy her story.
-Break up the dialouge a bit with more of Mirth’s inner ponderings.
-What is it like to experience talking to animals from Mirth’s grown up perspective, or to understand the elements.
-Entertain the idea of breaking this up into two chapters.
-Maybe put in a small epsidoe of the Day in the Life of Mirth and
If you have any questions, feel free to message me Azae to break up the traveling montage.
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