3 bar menu

Chapter 18 – The Drunken Stranger!

As the smoke solidified into a blade, the old man’s eyes widened in shock, his jaw dropping. He was so astonished that he forgot to swallow, and sake trickled from his gourd, splashing onto the ground. He stared at Shawn, speechless for a moment, before blurting out, “Don’t tell me you are…”

Shawn, catching on to what the old man was trying to say, felt a surge of pride swelling within him. His chest puffed up slightly as he awaited the inevitable acknowledgement of his powers.

The old man finally finished his thought, eyes still wide with amazement, “Don’t tell me, you’re a magician!”

Shawn’s pride deflated instantly, leaving him dumbstruck. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The old man, oblivious to Shawn’s inner turmoil, clapped his hands—sake gourd and all—grinning like a child at a magic show. “Wow, that was a neat trick! You should have mentioned you were a travelling magician who got separated from your group.”

Shawn, his patience utterly exhausted, swung the sword at the old man in frustration. But the moment he completed the swing, it felt as if his blade had sliced through nothing but air. Confused, he looked around, finding no trace of the old man in front of him or anywhere in the direction he had swung.

Then, from behind him, he heard the old man’s voice, casual and unconcerned, “Well, I didn’t see any gang coming from this direction. Maybe they moved west.”

Shawn turned slowly, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. There was the old man, balancing precariously on one foot atop Shawn’s sword, the other foot hovering above the blade as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He bent down slightly, adjusting his balance, and looked at Shawn with a smirk, as if this acrobatic feat was nothing out of the ordinary.

The old man, with a carefree grin, leapt off the sword, performing a graceful back-flip before landing effortlessly on his feet. He dusted off his ragged clothes and said to Shawn, “You should head west if you want to find your party.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned his back to Shawn and began walking away, his steps unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world and continued drinking.

Frustration still simmering within him, Shawn tightened his grip on his sword and swung at the old man’s side, determined to make him take him seriously. But before the blade could connect, the old man’s hand moved like a flash to bring his sword, intercepting Shawn’s sword with a sharp clang. The impact reverberated through Shawn’s arm, and he froze, dropping his sword.

The old man’s demeanour shifted in an instant, from playful to deadly serious. He smiled, but this time there was a dangerous edge to it. He closed his eyes for a brief moment before reopening them, his gaze locking onto Shawn’s with an intensity that made the air feel heavy. “Looks like I’ve entertained you enough,” he said, his voice calm but laced with an underlying power, “…but I have an important meeting with the Tri-Kings, and I can’t afford any more distractions.”

Shawn’s instincts screamed at him to retreat as an overwhelming aura radiated from the old man, far more potent than what he had sensed from the soldiers earlier. The pressure was suffocating, and Shawn’s sword dissipated into smoke. Unable to withstand the sheer force of the old man’s presence, Shawn stumbled back and felt his heart pound in his chest. He barely managed to stammer out, “I’m sorry for my behaviour.”

The old man, his expression softening slightly, tucked his sword back into its sheath. “Well,” he said, with a hint of his earlier light-heartedness creeping back into his voice, “I guess I owe you an apology too. I shouldn’t have made fun of you.” He hiccuped, his composure slipping momentarily before he continued, “How about this—join me on my journey? I can drop you off on the path that’ll lead you west.”

Shawn hesitated, his mind still reeling from the intense aura the old man had just unleashed. But the offer didn’t seem like one to refuse, as he is still clueless about what to do. With a nod, he agreed, realising there was much more to this stranger than met the eye.

The old man, now with a new companion by his side, set off once again, his steps sure and steady despite his seemingly drunken demeanour. As they walked, the forest around them began to change, the dense trees parting to reveal a narrow, winding path that stretched ahead. Shawn kept pace with the old man, curiosity and caution mingling in his thoughts as the two of them embarked on their journey together.

They walked in silence for a while, the old man’s steady, uneven steps crunching softly over the forest floor, while Shawn followed with a mix of caution and curiosity. Eventually, they left the forest behind, emerging onto a vast field of tall grass that swayed gently in the evening breeze. The sun was beginning its descent, casting long shadows across the landscape. By the time they reached the horizon, the sun had fully set, and they could see the faint outline of a village far in the distance, looking like a half-day’s walk away.

The old man glanced around, noticing the trees clustered nearby. “Looks like a good spot to camp,” he said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “We’ll start moving again at first light. I’ll take care of the food, and you get the fire going. You do know how to make one, right?” He added, with a teasing glint in his eye.

Shawn felt a flicker of annoyance, but his grumbling stomach decided for him. “I can make a fire,” he muttered, trying to sound confident.

The old man ambled off in search of food, leaving Shawn to gather stones, sticks, and scraps of wood for the fire. As he worked, he muttered under his breath, “Stupid old drunk, teasing me like I’m some little kid.”

After a frustrating amount of time trying to get the fire started with no success, Shawn suddenly thought, Why not use my powers? He held his palm over the fire pit and concentrated. Wisps of smoke began to swirl around his hand, and a small ball of fire flickered to life in his palm. Grinning with satisfaction, he flicked it toward the fire pit, and the wood caught flame instantly.

But then Shawn realised the fire in his hand wasn’t going out. He waved his hand around, trying to shake it off, but the small flame only grew larger and hotter. Panic rising, Shawn started frantically whisking his hand faster, but the fireball just kept growing until it was the size of his head. With no other options, Shawn decided to throw it as far as he could, hoping to get rid of it before it burned him—or worse.

The fireball shot into the nearby forest, followed by a loud exclamation, “Oh my god!” It was the old man’s voice.

Shawn quickly sat down by the fire pit, trying to appear nonchalant, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He mulled over the recent events, reflecting quietly, “It seems like manipulating objects with a physical form is straightforward enough, but controlling something as elusive as fire… that’s a whole different challenge.” His thoughts drifted as he stared into the flickering flames, the lessons of the day settling in. The firelight danced across his face, its warmth a stark contrast to the cold realisation that his powers were still unpredictable, needing more understanding and control. A moment later, the old man reappeared, carrying a few rabbits in his hands, some of them already cooked. “You won’t believe what just happened!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and amusement. “I was walking back, minding my own business, when out of nowhere, this massive fireball comes flying at me! Luckily, I managed to stop it using one of these rabbits as a shield, and look—it’s perfectly cooked!” He held up the roasted rabbit triumphantly.

Shawn stared at him, struggling to keep a straight face. “Is that so?” he replied, his voice barely concealing his relief and amusement.

The old man, oblivious to Shawn’s inner turmoil, plopped down by the fire, grinning like a fool. “Well, dinner’s served, magician,” he said, handing Shawn one of the rabbits. “Seems like you can do fire tricks too!”

As Shawn was about to take a bite of the rabbit, he was still reeling from the old man’s strange antics. The absurdity of the situation left him momentarily speechless, but his hunger won out, and he took a hesitant bite of the roasted rabbit. Meanwhile, the old man, completely unfazed, was tearing into his own rabbit with gusto, washing it down with generous swigs from his sake gourd.

Between bites, the old man looked over at Shawn and spoke with his mouth half-full, “Oh, wait! We haven’t even properly acquainted ourselves!” He wiped his greasy hand on his tattered robe before extending it in a half-hearted handshake gesture. “The name’s Makara of Lu village. And you, my fire-slinging friend?”

Shawn, still trying to process the day’s events and the bizarre company he was now keeping, swallowed his bite and replied, “I’m Shawn, from Katanha village.”

Makara paused, squinting as if deep in thought. “Katanha village, huh? Never heard of it,” he finally said, before taking another swig from his gourd. “But then again, I’ve never been great with geography. Or remembering things. Or staying sober.” He chuckled, seemingly amused by his own shortcomings.

Shawn couldn’t help but crack a small smile at the old man’s ramblings. Something was endearing about his carefree attitude, even if it was utterly baffling.

Makara leaned back, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. “So, Shawn of Katanha, tell me, how does a young lad like you end up throwing fireballs around in the middle of nowhere?”

Shawn hesitated, uncertain of how much he should divulge to this unpredictable stranger. “It’s… complicated,” he finally said, hoping the response would suffice.

Makara nodded with exaggerated sagacity, as if Shawn had just shared a deep philosophical truth. “Ah, ‘complicated.’ Not exactly my favourite kind of story.” He took another swig from his sake gourd and added with a grin, “I’d rather sleep than listen to a tale that’ll make my head spin.”

Shawn smirked at the old man’s bluntness but decided to probe further. After a few moments of silence, he asked, “So, what’s this meeting with the Tri-Kings about?”

Makara paused mid-drink, his eyes narrowing as if weighing the significance of the question. Then, with a grin that suggested he was enjoying the irony, he replied, “It’s complicated.”

Shawn couldn’t help but chuckle at the old man’s deliberate echo of his own words. Makara seemed pleased with himself, taking another hearty swig before continuing, “If that King Azure hadn’t started this blasted war, I wouldn’t be on this errand journey to meet the Tri-Kings.”

Shawn’s curiosity was piqued. “Why did King Azure start this war? People are suffering because of it. Seems like a foolish move for a king.”

Makara’s demeanour shifted slightly, the humour in his eyes dimming as he regarded Shawn with a more serious, almost paternal gaze. “Wars are never as simple as they seem. Kings don’t just wake up one morning and decide to throw their kingdoms into chaos for the fun of it. And King Azure of the east isn’t the type to wage war without a cause.”

He took another drink, this time slower, as if the gravity of the conversation was starting to sober him up. “Maybe King Azure just wanted what was rightfully his—the entire eastern region, but it seems odd since he was the one who split his lands, shared them with smaller kings who helped him during the great war with the West thirty years ago.”

Shawn leaned forward, intrigued, “War with the West? What happened thirty years ago?”

Makara looked into the fire, his face reflecting the dancing flames as memories seemed to play out before his eyes. “Now that, my young friend, is a tale worth telling before the night is through,” he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone as he prepared to delve into a story from the past.