The Chronicles of Krarshe: The Hearts of Men, Volume 1

Krarshe sat there as he had the past few mornings, staring out the window into the barren stone courtyard, watching the students flock to the classroom, counting stones as they were illuminated by the morning sun. Per usual, none of the students who entered spoke with him. He was happy with that, though. Peace and quiet worked just fine for him, though he was concerned he might fall asleep with boredom. He wasn’t sure why he insisted on arriving so early, though it likely had to do with this moment of quiet that he had grown so accustomed to. He realized he should have slept later today, however, as he was restless last night, but it was too late for that. He’d just have to deal with it.

“Karshe!” Tibault called out as he entered the classroom, shattering Krarshe’s tranquil morning. His pronunciation had changed; maybe Bri had corrected him. “I honestly didn’t expect to see you here today. What happened?”

Krarshe sleepily turned to him, doing his best to hold up his heavy eyelids. “I’m going to be studied.”

Tibault stood there, waiting for a follow up explanation, but Krarshe just turned back to the window. Through it, he saw Bri, turning the corner by the store with her head down. As she approached, she looked up and made eye contact with Krarshe. He could see her gloomy expression change as she hurried into the building.

“Is... that it?” Tibault asked, still waiting for Krarshe to go into more detail.

“Karshe!” Bri yelled as she entered the room, nearly identical to how Tibault had just done. “What happened?!” she asked as she ran over.

I knew this would happen, Krarshe thought. He turned to face both of them. “As I told Tibault, I’ll be studied.” Krarshe waited for the confusion to set into Bri as well, for no reason other than his own twisted enjoyment, watching them both get anxious. “Professor Landry thought my case was strange, so he wants to study my spellcasting. He has a class today, so I’m allowed to come to class while he’s busy. But, from now on, I guess I’ll only attend class every other day.”

“That’s... not what I expected to happen,” Bri admitted.

“I thought you were certainly going to be expelled, at the very least,” Tibault stated.

“I am, however, not allowed to attend the practical lessons in the afternoon,” Krarshe added. “I’ll have to work in the store instead.”

“Already? How do they expect you to run it?” Bri asked. “I’ve worked in there a lot, and there’s still items I don’t know.”

Krarshe thought back to the first day he saw her in the store. Maybe this ignorance was the cause of her nervousness back then. “A senior student or teacher will always be present while I’m there. For a while, at least.”

“Just try not to be more bored than you seem in class,” Bri laughed. “Trust me, time seems to slow to a crawl in there.”

“I’m sure I’ll find a way to entertain myself,” Krarshe said with a smile, his blue eyes shone mischievously.

“If you break anything, or play with what you shouldn’t be touching, you might just get expelled this time,” Tibault warned.

Just as Krarshe was about to reassure him, Owyn stormed into the room. His usually neat black hair was in disarray, though still well-groomed compared to his eyebrows. He must still be angry, Krarshe thought. As the class got to their seats, Krarshe heard a whisper from beside him.

“I’m glad you’re still here,” Bri said quietly.

“Me too,” Tibault agreed.

Krarshe just smiled quietly as they bowed to the teacher. The lesson continued as if nothing had changed. Krarshe paid attention for the start of it. It seemed to be an introduction to somatic components to casting; the introductory example involved a few small hand gestures and was performed simultaneously with the wind burst they had learned the first day. Apparently, it augmented the spell, be it for controlling the direction or power of the spell, or to be used in conjunction with group casting. After the first thirty minutes or so of explanation, it started to become redundant. It was clear that specific uses for each gesture would be dependent on which spell it was. Krarshe’s vision was starting to blur with sleepiness as he struggled against the weight of his eyelids. As the lecture turned into a lesson on the history of somatic casting, Krarshe again shifted his gaze to the courtyard. He could feel his consciousness slipping. For the rest of the class, he fought the pleasant sensation of resting his eyes, though he was uncertain how successful he was. He’d have to ask Bri and Tibault if he missed anything later.

The morning class seemed to end in an instant, evidence that Krarshe had eventually lost to his tiredness at some point. While the morning lecture was dull, the latter half of his day in the store was significantly worse. Krarshe was told to not interact with any of the customers, not that there were many, and a senior student would handle everything. The student in charge today didn’t even give his name, so Krarshe would just refer to him as ‘supervisor’. Occasionally, a customer would wander in and the supervisor would engage them almost immediately. Krarshe listened a bit to the interactions, but it was usually pretty basic. The customer would say they were looking for something, the student would bring them over to a product. Monetary exchanges were also handled by this supervisor. Krarshe did nothing but sit and watch quietly, which got increasingly more difficult with each hour that passed as the continuing battle with his drowsiness was a losing affair. On more than one occasion, he thought about sneaking off to the back room and taking a real nap.

The only unique interaction all day was with an elf woman who Krarshe overheard was not looking for anything today but just inspecting the goods they sold. She was probably the only thing that shook up the monotony of the afternoon, this attractive blonde elf slowly making her way around the store. Curiously, the supervising student was also meandering around the room at the same time. At first, Krarshe wasn’t sure what he was doing, but it became apparent after a minute that he was indeed watching her while trying to keep some distance in an attempt to be less conspicuous. Watching this chase through the maze of shelving was some much needed entertainment for Krarshe.

As the day dragged on, he was able to see the students leaving for the day. Tibault and Bri stopped to wave at him through the window as they left for the day, but all it did was make Krarshe wish he could leave. The store had to be manned until closing, his supervisor had explained, so they would be there until the sun set. As such, his friends’ farewell was more annoying than encouraging.

With no customers and being on the final stretch of this incredibly long day, Krarshe wandered the store, looking at the products. The staves that lined the side wall appeared dull and uninteresting at first, but upon closer inspection were actually more than just durable sticks. They had some symbols carved into them, different from the symbols used in class for spellcasting. Krarshe guessed they were some kind of rune, though that seemed to contradict Owyn’s opinion of dwarven runeforging. The wands were much the same, with small symbols carved into them. Krarshe was left to wonder how they managed to write so small without any mistakes. Most of the armor also contained symbols written on the inside, but not all of them. He was fairly certain that everything in the store was magic in nature, so he wasn’t sure what to make of those pieces without markings.

“Those are imbued with magic during forging,” said a soft, elderly voice. Krarshe turned to see Professor Landry standing behind the counter, watching as Krarshe inspected the goods. “It’s a newer technique compared to inscription. Admittedly, I don’t know the exact process for it, but the magic is part of the metal itself.”

Landry walked around to the armor stands and looked over one of the breastplates, almost as if he was trying to understand the imbuement process himself. After a second, he picked up a gauntlet unsteadily instead, and showed the inside to Krarshe.

“You see,” he said, gesturing to the inscription on the inside, “this armor’s enchantment only holds while this inscription remains. If it’s damaged, the enchantment won’t work anymore. Not a good thing in the middle of battle.” His long white mustache twitched as his mouth curled into a smile, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening. He set the armor back on its stand and walked back to the counter. “You’re free to go now, Krarshe. I’ll close up here. I’ll see you tomorrow in the training range.”

“Thank you, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” Krarshe said hurriedly, excited to finally be able to get out of that store.

“Take care, and make sure you get plenty of rest. I have a lot of things I want to test,” the professor said, laughing his slow, weary laugh.

Krarshe sat at his table in The Easy Lute, eagerly awaiting his dinner. He had remembered last night that he never got to enjoy the fish he wanted his first day here. This time, though, he managed to get it, and he was unquestionably excited for it. Valerie, the waitress teaching Na’kika, had recommended the seared fillet with herbs and greens, and he had taken her up on the recommendation. In high spirits in anticipation of the fish, despite the drag of a day he had to that point, he ventured to chat with Valerie after placing his order. In addition to her name, he learned that the bard that spent so much time at this inn was Henry, the future son-in-law of the owner. They weren’t picky about the musical selection, and not restricted to lutes, but this was Henry’s preferred instrument. Occasionally there would be other bards who would fill in, but Henry was the regular musician, and most people came to hear him. Or to laugh at his expense, as he did tend to stumble more than most. It apparently was all in good fun, though, and he’d usually laugh along with them.

Before long, Na’kika brought out his fish and set it down in front of him. “Thank you, Na’kika,” Krarshe said to her. She smiled back at him and turned to return to the kitchen. “You know,” Krarshe started, stopping her abruptly, “does Henry know any other songs?”

Na’kika just tilted her head to the side, questioning him.

“I mean, he plays The Five Curses a lot. I think I hear it at least a few times every dinner these last few days. Honestly, I don’t know how much more I can hear about the Wanderer, or the Snatcher stealing children in the night,” Krarshe joked, smiling. “How many times a night do you tend to hear him recite it?”

Na’kika looked away and put her finger to her lips pensively. She then held up ten fingers, then closed them and opened them again. After a pause and another thoughtful glance, she repeated the gesture.

“That’s... a lot. You have my condolences,” he said.

She smiled, and then shook her head. Na’kika gestured to herself and then waved her hand with confident dismissal, before smiling an even bigger smile than before.

Krarshe laughed. “I see, I see. My concerns were unwarranted. Also, isn’t this song a bit too... cheerful? I mean, it seems a pretty somber topic to have such a happy tune, doesn’t it?”

Na’kika nodded her head up and down. She turned her palms up and changed her head shaking to a side-to-side motion, agreeing to Krarshe’s confusion. She then began to gesture as though she held a lute and began to play it slowly before once more nodding at Krarshe expectantly.

“Yeah, I agree. It’d make much more sense.”

Her smile kept growing. This was the first time Krarshe had seen her so animated in the few days he spent at the inn. Her tail whipped and curled excitedly, her slit cat eyes clear as she focused on Krarshe. She seemed much happier than usual.

“Maybe I should recommend something to him. Mmm... Actually, I don’t know many songs. I’d be in trouble if he asked for lyrics,” Krarshe laughed.

Na’kika couldn’t resist giggling, as she tried to hide it with her empty tray. That was the first sound he’d ever heard her make.

“Oyy! Na’kika! Got ’nother plate!” called the chef, coming out from around the corner of the kitchen.

Na’kika waved an acknowledgement before turning to Krarshe and bowing, her tail still waving around wildly. She then turned and dashed to the kitchen.

“That was nice of you.”

“Valerie, you weren’t watching that whole time, were you?” Krarshe asked as he turned around.

“But of course! I’m mentoring her, after all.” She stood a dozen or so paces behind him, carrying a tray of empty mugs. “I don’t get to see her that happy usually.”

“From just a conversation?”

“Yeah. She doesn’t get to communicate with people that often. And she hasn’t had any real conversations with customers, even brief ones like yours, since starting here.” She picked up a few more empty mugs from a nearby table and put them on her tray. “Most of the time, they ignore her, or don’t know how to interact with her. Truthfully, I think it just makes her more self-conscious of her inability to speak when they’re cautious around her,” Valerie said, twirling to the other side of Krarshe’s table to make way for a customer, her dark brown hair fluttering around before landing on her shoulder.

“It honestly didn’t feel like much. I’d do more if I could.”

“Doing this much is more than you realize. Being understood for a change makes a world of difference. I hope you have more conversations with her. I’m sure it’d make her happy too. And I’ll ask Henry to work on some new songs,” she said, flashing a smile as she started toward the kitchen.

Krarshe sat there quietly for a minute. “A simple conversation is enough to bring her happiness, huh? I hope I can do better than that,” Krarshe said to himself as he dug into his much-awaited fish dinner.