The Tragedy of Renya

2.3 The Goddess and the King

The sixth Day of the fifth month, just outside of Ostia

Laughter filled the circle around the campfire. Nobody even thought of leaving, of going to bed, even though the sun was already setting. Some children, young boys, tried to hold their cookies above the fire and screamed when the cookies, and sometimes the stick they’d stuck the cookies on, caught fire. Adults would come and take care of the flames, scold the children, after which the children were handed a new cookie and the game began without the adults caring. Stories were told, of the things they’d seen in Ostia, of the things that had happened to them in the past. These stories were exaggerated, given a name, and then finally someone would run off with the idea and some paper and slowly create a play out of the anecdote.

It was a scenery that was completely unfamiliar to Erica. There was a kind of warmth that she’d never seen before, and she knew it didn’t come from the campfire. And it wasn’t the kind of warmth she’d experienced in the Kent’s Place, which was inaccessible. Instead, these actors were more than willing to invite any travellers they saw to the campfire to share their stories.

A few hours ago Erica had encountered these actors when she was sitting on the side of the road. She’d run away from home, had no funds, no clothes other than those she was wearing, and no idea what to do. The actors had come from Ostia, after they’d performed a series of successful plays there for the people. They’d spoken to her and immediately assumed she was heading for either Caimu or Tusiaga. If she were heading for Tusiaga, they’d said, she could travel with them. If it were for Caimu, no such luck. After this Erica had answered that she was indeed heading for Tusiaga.

And so she’d been taken up by the group of actors who were still playing around, laughing, talking about the strange people of Ostia.

“What’s wrong with Ostia?” Erica asked quietly to the woman sitting next to her. The woman, tall and with a flat face, laughed before answer.
“There’s nothing wrong with Ostia, dear,” she said, “it’s the people! They’re either lazy or completely strange to the real world.”
“Strange to the real world?”
“Heads in books all day! You’d think they never learned to live life!”

Erica paused and looked at the campfire.
“Well at least they pay us generously,” the woman laughed. Then she looked at Erica’s worried face and immediately realised the mistake she’d made.

“You’re from Ostia?” she asked. Erica nodded.
“Kid, let me tell you. Books won’t give you what other people will.”
“So far, people have given me nothing but trouble.”

And before she knew it Erica had told the woman her story. How she’d always focused on her studies to avoid the children in the neighbourhood who only wanted her family’s money. How she’d gone to the university to avoid the forced marriage. And how she’d now gotten engaged against her will anyway, because of that horrible man who wanted to see her ruined.

“Kid, kid! Surely it’s not all that bad.”

Erica remained silent. Maybe it wasn’t, she thought, but that was how things had appeared to her. Her family’s wealth had always attracted a large amount of do-nothings who thought that being friends with Erica would give them the money they needed. And so she’d grown a fear of humans, feeling that they all wanted something from her.

That was why she loved books. They made everything clear. The bad guy was evil from the beginning, the good guy was always right and would always win in the end. It gave her the feeling that she was the hero; that she’d be fine in the end.

And the events of that day had stripped away that feeling of safety. Instead of being a hero she was merely one of the random villagers who were often not even named. The people who got thrown around by fate and the hero and the bad guy alike, without any choice of what would happen to them.

It made her feel powerless. She wanted to choose her own destiny, no matter what the results were.

The woman next to Erica smiled kindly at her.
“So what are you going to do with your life now?”

Erica looked at the campfire. Another kid had just managed to set both his cookie and his stick on fire and was now screaming in panic.

“I guess I’ll leave the region for a while,” she said, “where my family won’t look for me. Get some funds together, and then return here to learn the truth.”
“The truth?”
Erica smiled, “everything connects at Renya right now. There’s something there, and he is willing to ruin my life to stop me from finding it. So I’m going to look for it eventually.”

“Renya huh?” the woman smiled, “Have you ever read the play by Viusi? The one about the founding of the city?”

Erica nodded, “I’ve seen the movie with Dame Pres as the Goddess. And I’ve seen the plays performed back home.”
“No no,” the woman scolded her, “not seen, read it. Movies always change it.”
“Can’t say I have… I tried a few times, but there’s something about Viusi’s writing that I just can’t get through.”
“You’re not the only one, love.”

The woman got up and started with a few loud lines, introducing the play. A tragedy of two lovers who could not be together. Then a few others joined in, and the children ran towards Erica and sat down next to her.

Erica smiled as she saw the play performed in front of her. The language had been updated; it wasn’t the archaic words of the original, but the plot was different from the movies she’d seen. The romance had been moved to a backside, and instead the story focused about the need for a city to stabilise the area; a capital to bring the five city-states at peace. The story of Lord Andrey Pentel, a lone man who was travelling through the area as a merchant, when he got a vision of the Goddess who told him to build her a shrine. It was love at first sight for him; she was a goddess more beautiful than any human could ever aspire to be. She did not return those feelings and instead disappeared into time. Lord Andrey Pentel built a tower, a pentagonal tower, which would serve as her shrine. He moved close to the tower, and following his wealth a village was formed. The village grew into a town, and then into a city. The city of Renya, named after the Goddess. On Lord Andrey Pentel’s dead-bed the goddess reappeared, and thanked him for the things he had done for her, before she disappeared, never to be seen again. The moment Lord Andrey Pentel’s life ended also ended the last sighting of the Goddess. The rest was history. Renya had brought peace to the area, and become the capital that ruled the other five cities.

“For over five hundred years the city would remain standing as a guiding beacon for the region, until one day all inhabitants disappeared. The city would crumble to pieces but the tower for the goddess never would,” the woman finished the play with an addition that could not have been in the original play.