A Tale of Crown and Country

Tavin

  Weltyn was the next town on the map. It was roughly the same distance from the Allriya-Reightneir border as the watchtower was on the opposite side. On the map it was depicted as a small town, but Tavin was sure the Allriyan depiction of small was very different from his own. Nevertheless, he departed at the break of dawn from the soldier's camp with a generous supply of apples. The full sack on his back gave Tavin strength. The happiness of being able to feed himself for the next three or four days, depending on how hungry he would allow himself to get, cleared his mind of doubts. Once he crossed into Allriya there was no going back.

As Tavin walked he recited stories to himself. He would have preferred speaking them aloud, to distract himself from the vast loneliness of the forest, but he was scared it would make him thirstier than he already was. Water was his last resort, and it would not do to empty it before he could refill it. The soldiers' map did not depict any rivers or creeks between themselves and Weltyn.

He recited the stories grandfather had told him as a child. When he couldn't remember a detail, he made one up. Sometimes he would act scenes out with himself. He found a long stick perfect for jousting at one point, and for the next few minutes proceeded to re-enact the age-old story of Sir Delturin and Lady Ristera. It would be terribly embarrassing to have been seeing doing so, but it passed the time rather well.

The border between the two countries was rather anticlimactic. Tavin had expected something, anything, a shack, a soldier, a sign even, to mark the spot. But to no avail: Tavin wasn't even sure he had crossed it until he noticed the trees growing further apart. At that point he had to admit he had most likely crossed into Allriya. The let down of the significance of his entry into Allriya was supported by the fact that he had been terrified out of his wits at encountering a soldier of either nation to explain his journey to.

After stopping for lunch at random, Tavin resumed his regular pace in order to arrive in Weltyn by nightfall. He had run out of stories, so he returned to the speculation of the prophecy. He repeated to himself and mulled over the words, running them over his mind, trying to find some sort of hidden meaning he hadn't thought of before.

If one becomes three, and three mature, then will the third destroy the life-giver. But for the second to assist the third, the first must not be given. Heed these and Allriya's father will eternally survive. Tavin picked the sentences apart. The first one grew stranger and stranger every time he repeated it. If one becomes three, he wondered. What would split into three? Tavin wasn't good at riddles or figuring out flowery language. He went to the final line, the line that, hopefully, would give some context to the first two: Heed these and Allriya's father will eternally survive. Who was Allriya's father? A country couldn't have a father; it wasn't born of a person but of a community. Maybe it was the Allriyan god, Erayd. But according to the legends Eryad hadn't even brought the Allriyan people to life, he had only inspired them to travel and explore. No, that wasn't it. Who was a country's father? Tavin mulled over the words again. "Father," he said aloud, "a father is in charge of a family. A father helps his childre–" he stopped himself. Alone in the silent woods, Tavin realized the answer. "It's Allriya's king," he said aloud again, though there was no one to hear his revelations except himself and the squirrels. "Allriya's king is the father of the country!" Tavin smiled: he was getting the hang of this riddle business.

Now the rest of the prophecy could be unpacked, he realized. If the father of a country was a king, than–no, he had lost his train of thought. Tavin had thought that un-riddling the final line would magically solve the first two. Magic was a Vastranese gift, not a Reightneirian's. Riddles were an Allriyan's gift, not a Reightneirian's.

If one becomes three, and three mature, then will the third destroy the life-giver. But for the second to assist the third, the first must not be given. Those were the most complicated lines of the prophecy, and the most confusing. Tavin pondered them until he tripped over three exposed roots in a row and realized he had better focus on the trail ahead. He was running out of water and his feet were growing sorer by the minute. The sun was about to start setting and soon it would be dark again. Tavin checked his map again and panicked for a second, wondering if he had gotten lost.

Tavin wasn't lost. In fact, he was about to come up on the small Allriyan town of Weltyn. Less than half an hour later he could see the meagre lights of the simple town through the thinning branches of the forest. He had left Reightneir behind, and now he would be leaving the forest behind too. Tavin checked his pockets for his measly coins. It might be enough for a night in an inn, but it was certainly not enough for food. Tavin took a deep breath and readied himself for his first Allriyan experience.