Wayfarer

Providence Arc 2: Trepidation

 Koakiran spent the long walk down the trail thinking of how to avoid some of the Aeolon people. He tripped as he walked, his eyes focused on the glowing screen in front of him.

Wayfarer

Koakiran

Class: Wanderer

Level 16: 0.00%

HP: 180

MP: 130

SP: 155

STR: 10

DEX: 10

END: 10

VIT: 10

WIS: 30

INT: 30

CHA: 10

LUC: 10

POINTS: 20

"Look where you walk." He heard Hota say. His father was a few paces ahead of the boy, who had slowed down.

I thought my level was higher. I thought I had more points, too. What happened? Was it the vision I saw? The boy racked his mind, looking for a way to escape his predicament, but had grown distracted. He could see his list of abilities, particularly an instant translation ability, but some were restricted. It was the translation ability that had been the most useful so far, allowing him to easily communicate with people with different languages and serve as a general translator between these groups. Yet Koakiran did his best to avoid the Aeolon groups. He needed to avoid two in particular-

"Help the two young ones with translating again today." Hota, as if knowing he was thinking of avoiding them, interrupted the boy's thoughts. Koakiran groaned but said nothing as the circle of tarps came into view.

It had grown considerably since the last time he had seen it. The clearing had grown with a few trees cut down by Saigan woodcutters, which were then turned into benches around a pit for fire. What used to be a few tarps was now a circle of twelve, and all three of the groups had some stake in what was being sold, usually tools and information due to necessity and shared growth, but anyone could also come to sell trinkets, and even food. Koakiran had tried some Saigon foods, particularly seafood prepared in a certain way. In fact, he was looking for that when someone called his name.

"Koa! I brought more books for us!" Lyra called to him from one of the wagons, smiling. Next to her was Proclus, who only nodded to him before getting back to his task, unloading a pack from the wagon. Koakiran looked to Hota, who nodded to him. The boy walked over to the wagon, helping them with the large pack. It was a bundle of different scrolls and tomes.

They found a secluded enough spot within eyesight of the clearing to sit down and pry open some of the books. Saigan scrolls and Aeolon tomes that Koakiran helped begin to translate. He found it strange that such stories were converted into such a lifeless form, and a discussion grew from that. Lyra and Proclus, as well as a sibling pair, had taught him rudimentary forms of reading and writing, and the boy felt that the stories each scroll or tome told lacked the presence. Now the three of them sat there, with Proclus silently observing their surroundings.

"It's so strange," Koakiran murmured as his eyes scanned the texts, a story. "I'm used to hearing stories through a voice."

"Your family doesn't write things down, right?" Lyra leaned in from her perch atop a fallen log. "I mean, how can you tell what's right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, how is it verified? When we write down information its artefact, proven and tested. When we write down stories, we keep faithful to the original and the time it was written in."