The Brewing Tempests
"A sharp sword and a sharp wit are all you need."
Half Kandari, half Hamadi – Akora grew up in a farming village in the shadow of the Rexus Mountains.
“Some who choose this living do so because they run from something. For me, this has never been so.”
Long summer days in the fields and music by nightfall. These are the things closest to my heart. But that’s the beautiful thing about one’s home- it need never be far. There is a saying among those who grew up in the hills between Kandar and Hamad: my mother is an honest woman and my father is Kandari (laughs wryly). And so it was with me. My village was one of many on the river Vehelda. There, even now, my two peoples live quietly and till the soil as they have always done. It is our way.
Did you know the Hamadi were the first people to join the Kandari against the Derosi devils? It is true! The gray beards from the West will call me a liar but the truth is rarely found in books my friend- truth is handed down in words. It is much easier to lie with a pen than to look a man in the eye and deceive him. Is it not so? (pours two more cups of wine)
My grandfather was a great man. I knew him only a while- yes he died when I was a boy. I remember his voice. The man could sing. People from the neighboring villages would travel to hear him play. My mother once told me that he played for the lords of Deros during a High Harvest Feast. My mother was never one for embellishment! To hear my father tell it, his father was quite the miscreant in his youth. So much so that my father’s inheritance amounted to little. It has always saddened me to think on that.
When I was young I dreamed of going with him on a grand journey to the West. He would play and sing in the inns, and I would fight off any villains who tried to take our coin! (laughs) It’s true- I never saw myself a farmer, which was the reason my father and I never saw eye to eye. When grandfather died I didn’t eat for a week- it was a loss I still feel even now. He had precious little to leave us- he owned no land and saved only a meager purse. I didn’t know for many years that he had left me his lyre. My father wanted me to work the land alongside him- to put away foolish thoughts of seeing the world and sleeping under the stars. For a long time I resented him for this, but knowing what I know now, I wish I could tell him that I understand.
But enough of that. Our bellies are full and we have wine to drink. I’ll play a song for us if you don’t mind a little melancholy before we retire…