Stargazer Scholar
The sun was rising over the Metal Kingdom.
Slowly, lazily, its first weak rays crept over the woods surrounding the capital and almost got lost in the misty shade. But on they crept, on and on, until they touched a village that was huddled at the very foot of the Metal Hill. On top of the hill an impregnable castle was perched, its battlements barely lit with Aurora, its high walls proud and sturdy.
Yet the village seemed comfortable enough where it was. The city wasn’t too far, after all, the trade looked good, and one could always count on being tragically attacked by a wyvern or two, which always made for impressive ballad material.
As usual, Monty Dragonween was the first to rise. He stretched, smiled, practiced a few high notes for the benefit of the other villagers and went out to stand on his porch, the morning breeze stirring his luxurious golden hair. Monty remembered that he’d forgotten to don his chainmail, but on a morning like this he could cut himself some slack: he would have plenty more chances to look fabulous during the day.
All was silent. Almost. Except for the noises that were issuing from the woods. Monty pricked up his ears, which to an attentive observer might have seemed a little on the pointy side, and listened. Were those even human voices? Sounded like croaking to him.
‘For Blashyrkh, mighty Ravendark!’ came a distant echo. ‘I’m heeding the call of the Wintermoon!’
Weird, thought Monty. Wintermoon? But isn’t it summer?
‘Can you even shoot a video in this forest without stumbling upon some posers?’ questioned a second voice, and Monty stopped paying attention. Clearly, the ancient woods had a life of their own. And clearly, those folks couldn’t possibly pose any threat. What would a bunch of croaking strangers do to a humble village like theirs, anyway? Burn the church? Monty shuddered at the idea.
In the meantime, his family was beginning to wake up. Monty’s four sons and one daughter spilled out into the garden with triumphant cries, their voices increasingly higher, and the proud father beamed at his offspring. Each of the young faces exhibited Monty’s square jaw and wore his ruddy complexion framed by blond hair, which couldn’t have been more to his liking. His wife Amaranthine emerged next, and Monty’s heart melted: she looked so wonderful, what with her golden tresses blowing in the gentle breeze and her smiling eyes staring back into his.
‘I love greeting the newborn day with you, husband,’ she murmured in her husky croon. One husky voice in the family was perfectly acceptable, after all.
‘A new dawn is a new era’, Monty agreed.
‘And together, we shall face every challenge,’ Amaranthine nodded, looking at a vegetable patch in front of the porch that needed weeding.
‘And we shall be firm, invincible,’ Monty echoed, thinking of the taxes that were due tomorrow.
‘The globe of the sun fascinates me,’ continued his spouse coming up to stand by his side. ‘When I am with you, I believe myself capable of anything.’ Monty growled his assent. ‘Even reaching out to it,’ and she made a gesture as if a magical sphere were levitating just above the palm of her hand, ‘and taking hold of the fiery orb!’
‘I am burning with passion,’ Monty gravely concurred, and they locked each other in an embrace.
It was full morning now in the village, and the sun moved on.
The rays slid over the entrance to the Royal Mines And Armories, ltd., but they didn’t linger long, since the proud dwarves that toiled in the depths were totally oblivious to the outside world. It was said that their names consisted of three or four letters only, and that all the denizens of the Metal Kingdom could trace their lineage back to that reclusive folk, but who knew. The dwarves did not care for their successors, and they kept hammering away at their anvils in strict keeping with the noble time signature of 4/4.
The rays slid further and crept over the city walls. It was almost noon now, and they fell into a richly decorated room of a noble mansion. An exquisite young woman was charmingly frowning at a scroll of parchment rolled out on the table before her.
‘Fire, desire’, she was mumbling under her breath, scratching her delicate nose with the tip of the quill. ‘Ah, how tricky it is to compose lyrics… Desire… taking me higher! Now, that sounds portentous, but what am I missing?’
An elaborately dressed young man was looking over her shoulder from behind, stroking his chin in poetic contemplation.
‘Phoenix’, he said, meaningfully.
‘Huh?’ asked the young woman.
‘If you’re going to rise higher from the fire of your desire, Violet’, he intoned, ‘you’re probably going to do it like a Phoenix’.
‘Why, this is actually brilliant!’ cried the young woman and set back to scribbling.
‘Like a Phoenix I will rise, from the ashes to the skies!’ she recited excitedly. ‘From the fire of my desire, I’ll be rising ever higher!’
‘This…’ gasped the young man, ‘this is what I call depth!’
‘You flatter me, Marcus’, blushed the young lady, ‘but we are still in need of a refrain’.
For a few heartbeats, the man called Marcus stared into the distance with a very pronounced air of poetic melancholy, and then declaimed:
‘Until the end, I shall not bend, I shall survive, I shall transcend!’
At this his charming companion emitted a delighted little squeal and attacked the parchment once more, as the light slid off her page and traveled westward…
(… to be continued!)
Metal Eclipse Reviews 