The Guardians of Celesk

Chapter 26: The Fragility of Hope

Lucern felt the addiction of hope. It could rise from within and branch out to all that came in contact. Yet it could just as quickly extinguish in a heartbeat. In many ways, it felt like love. He continued to work with the people of the valley, rebuilding and retraining, but he always felt there was a needed distance. He couldn't give in to hope in the fear it could be ripped away from him at any moment. She would hate to see him this way, but she would no longer be here to confront him about it, only to reside within his memories. Despite this feeling, he continued to hammer each nail in. Every swing of the hammer was a testament to their progress, as the last section of the roof was constructed. The elation he felt as their newly renovated hall was complete was echoed by all the builders around him. As they climbed back down the ladder, he knew what must be done. As his foot hit the last rung and descended to the ground, Halthar had three mugs of ale in his hands. The third one he gave to Lucern, who graciously accepted before chugging several mouthfuls, "ahh, that hits the spot where I live." Halthar commented before having a few mouthfuls of his own. "No not on my liver Halthar, it's just a metaphor," Lucern said. He turned to the rest of the builders, who had all climbed down from the roof and were brandishing their own mugs. "A job well done gentlemen."

"Even with your help, Lucern," another added. Lucern laughed before replying, "why, without me, you could have done the job in half the time." They all nodded a little too eagerly, before turning back to Lucern, who appeared as always to have more to say on the matter. "We need a show for this hall." Halthar commented again before Lucern forced the other mug to his lips. "Yes, of course it's my role to say that. It's nonetheless true." The builders cheered again before gesturing to their apprentices to fetch more ale.

Their work was admired from afar. Each of the pack, concealed over the ridge and peering down into the valley, noticed the last of the builders climb down from the roof of the newly restored great hall. A voice from behind them said with a certain degree of menace, "So, they have rebuilt their home. They build so that we can destroy. It's so cyclical, but we never forget." Others joined him, almost in a chant. "Never forget."

Jara noticed the group of men and women returning from the great hall. She could already hear them muttering about a great show to bless the newly constructed hall and knew exactly who planted this very idea in their heads. Lucern could entertain and irritate within the same utterance of a phrase, and yet the people here seemed to love him for it. She was quickly joined by Tenata. "So Lucern wants to have another show, I can barely wait," Jara said.

"Sarcasm aside, he's right. It's a good idea my lady."

"Surely you're not just humouring him."

"Not at all. A celebration is just what we need right now. It's a small victory, but still a victory."

"But... Celeskian Tales, I mean please, isn't there something better."

"They are not exactly what I had in mind. One of our couples has openly declared their love, and a union could be great for morale."

"A wedding then?"

"Yes, a wedding. And they could perform a few songs." Jara rolled her eyes at the suggestion. "It's only a small victory, but a symbolic one at that. Perhaps you could bring an escort?" Her disgust only amused Tenata, as she gestured to her assistant to start taking down ideas. Jara continued to watch the parade of builders march down the main street, with Lucern at the helm boisterously singing along and clashing mugs with Halthar. He was the very caricature of the egotistical male performer. Despite her frustrations at the man, the wisdom of Tenata had soothed her, allowing her a more pleasant montage of thoughts to admire.

The next day, preparations began for a wedding. Luckily, the female companion had chosen a modest dress and so it was ready to be worn. Both the bride and groom had chosen various people to fulfil certain roles though none were surprised that Lucern was delegated to be the ceremonial lord, a role fit for any bard. His ragtag crew would also perform a few songs at the reception, which was met with enthusiasm by the general population of the town. The more talented of the builders carved an ornate wooden arch, while others offered their services to bake a great feast, and Tenata graciously accepted to perform the ceremony. Things were quickly slotting into place and a town once plagued by death and mayhem felt a strong breeze of optimism wash over it. The excitement was infectious, with even the most elderly villagers pleased to see a spectacle of joy become the news of the town.