Annallya did not sleep well that night. Since she had met and spoken with Jess, the little woman who was currently held as a pet to her oldest friend in the world, Annallya had been haunted by thoughts of human prisoners in Thylara. She imagined little humans being taken from their families and brought to this terrifyingly massive city. Forced to live in cages and provide entertainment to their captors. It racked her with guilt, especially since she had participated in this slavery willingly. Yet everything that she had been taught as a little girl collided with everything she had seen these past months. Were humans truly better off living in the forest like animals, rather than a modern city? Would she be doing them a service by helping them to return? Or would she be inadvertently hurting them by taking them away from the safest possible home they had ever had? There was so much uncertainty, so much doubt behind this. After an entire night of tossing and turning, Annallya realized that there was only one way to know for sure which action was the right thing to do.

Annallya was not expected to be at Gaelin’s house that day. She had explained to him before that her studies and training would require her full attention, especially given the war council coming up in a few days. However, as she progressed throughout the day, Annallya could not take her mind away from the turmoil raging inside of her. She wanted so badly to help these people, but she was not sure she had the strength or the will to do what needed to be done. She crashed through the brush that obscured his small house from passers by, her breath coming in ragged gulps from how hard she had ran. Gaelin had been sitting on a stool, carving away at a piece of wood with a knife. When he saw her arrive, he leapt to his feet at once, holding his knife as if he intended to fight with it.

“Blazing embers!” he swore. “What’s chasing you?”

“Nothing I-” she gasped. “I . . . . .”

Taking a minute to gather her breath, Annallya stood up tall and looked Gaelin directly in the eye. “Gaelin, do you trust me?”

Gaelin blinked as he sheathed his knife. “Why do you ask?”

“Please,” Annallya pressed. “I need you to answer me honestly. Do you trust me?”

Gaelin gazed intently at her for a moment before nodding his head. “Yeah, suppose I do.”

Annallya breathed a small sigh of relief as she heard that. “Gaelin you have helped me much these past weeks, in ways I am very grateful for. And in that time I have been compliant with your wishes and avoided asking you of a very sacred subject. But now I must ask you for one more favor, one more important than my learning of the sword. I need you to show me the village where Andrill came from.”

Gaelin crossed his arms as he considered her for a few moments. “You’re right,” he said at last. “I asked you to stay away from that village, and you’ve done that just fine. So why the sudden interest now? And why do you make it sound like it’s a life or death situation?”

“It might be.” Annallya admitted.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I . . .” she hesitated as the implications of what she was doing began to catch up with her. She could not very well just come out and tell Gaelin of an idea that she may not even go through with. Her decision all hinged on what she would see in that village. “I may be about to do something very foolish. But before I do, I need to see this village for myself.”

Gaelin’s eyes narrowed as he sensed exactly how urgent this was for her. “Annallya, what are you going to do?”

“I am sorry that I cannot explain, for I do not know myself.” she told him. “Under Sun and Stars I swear to you Gaelin, I still mean no harm to you or anyone. This . . . . this is just something that I have to observe for myself. Do you still trust me?”

Gaelin seemed to be in conflict with himself for a minute. At last her looked her unwaveringly in the eye. “Yes.” he sighed. “I don’t know what you’re planning on doing, but I trust you well enough to believe you’ll not harm anyone.”

“You do?” she asked. Her breath had caught when he had answered yes to her request.

He nodded. “Last time a peddler came round he brought news from another settlement, somewhere far off. Apparently a couple of thieves in the woods encountered a young Titan who gave them a blazing scare, then let them go. I knew it had to be you, any other Titan would have killed them.”

“Oh, that.” Annallya muttered. The memory of her handling of the bandits was not a fond one. Mostly due to the fact that she had enjoyed her dominating role a little too much for comfort. Gaelin sensed her unease, although he did not know the true reason behind it.

“They were bandits,” he explained to her. “The one you almost stepped on would have robbed and raped you without a second thought. If there was ever a man to kill, he was it. But you didn’t, you chose to show him mercy. I’ve never heard of a Titan before showing that kind of compassion.”

“Then you will show me the village?” she asked, her excitement mounting.

Gaelin sighed as he walked back towards his house. “Sure, suppose you earned it. Besides, it’s not like you could cause these people any more harm than they’ve already been through.”

He disappeared inside leaving Annallya to follow in after him. “What are you referring to?”

From the doorway of the house Annallya could see into Gaelin’s bedroom. He grabbed a cloak from a hook and tossed it to her. “What is this for?”

“If you want to visit Sol-har then it’s under my terms.” he told her. “So rule number one: no one learns that you’re a Titan.”

“Very well,” she agreed.

“Rule number two: you don’t go anywhere without me,” he continued while rummaging through a trunk.

This time Annallya quirked an eyebrow, but nodded. Gaelin found what he had been looking for, a traveller’s bag. It look worn and well used. Without a word he began stuffing blankets into it until the bag looked full, then he tossed it to her.

“Rule number three: don’t speak to anyone unless you’re spoken to first. I’d prefer it if everyone else were convinced you’re some wayward traveller just looking to pass through.” he explained as he exited his house, tucking a flask in the pocket of his black leather coat. “You’ll need to remove that gem off your head. No one round here has jewelry like that.”

“This gem is a family treasure!” Annallya protested as she followed after him. “Given to me by my mother.”

“Then leave it here,” he answered without stopping to look back. “You’ll also have to keep that cloak as closed up as you can. Don’t want anyone taking too close a look at your clothes. But don’t act like you’re hiding something either.”

“Gaelin is this really all necessary?” she asked.

In the blink of an eye Gaelin spun around to face her, his face suddenly as unmoving as stone. “Yes” he muttered in a dark tone. “Now listen here. Every single person in that village has had at least one terrible experience with Titans. You want me to take you to see them? Fine. But you do everything that I tell you, and maybe we’ll make it through this alive.”

Annallya hesitated after seeing his reaction. She was not afraid of him, not anymore, but was now very wary of what had set him on edge. It had only now just occurred to Annallya that she may be walking into a very dangerous situation. “You truly think that they would harm us?”

“You? Not at all.” he assured her. “I’m a different story.”

“Do they despise you?”

“I’ll tell you some other time.” he said while taking a sip from his flask and walking away. “Now are you coming along or not?”

Shaking off the doubt, Annallya fastened the cloak over her shoulders and set off after him. They travelled together for a good while through an area of the forest Annallya had never explored before. Gaelin said nothing, and Annallya for once was appreciative of the silence. Her mind buzzed with thoughts of what could happen. A couple of times during their walk she actually considered abandoning this idea and running back home in fear and shame. Then she remembered Andrill’s love for his home, Jess’s love for her family, and the guilt Annallya would feel if she damned them both to a life away from that. So together, the two mismatched companions continued their trek, until eventually the trees broke before them, and they stood on an open field. Before them stretched rows and rows of houses, haphazardly placed within the confined area that served as the borders of Sol-har. Annallya was struck speechless at how different this place was to Thylara. Thylara was a massive city, whose borders were so expansive one could walk it’s streets for two days without seeing all there is to see. Their houses and buildings were all made of cut stone, and cobblestone roads that carried carts swiftly from one shop to the next. The palace itself, a gem upon the face of the earth, was a gigantic structure of precious marble. And walls, walls so tall they practically taunted any enemy who would dare try and invade, surrounded and protected the entire city.

But here?

Here the houses themselves were rectangular and made almost entirely of wood, with slanted roofs of thatch. Unlike Gaelin’s house, these buildings were all at least two stories high, and covered a larger area, but still small compared to a Titan’s house. The largest building in the village was only three stories. Had Annallya stood at her full Titan height, it would have almost reached her knees. There were no walls for protection, no cobblestone streets. A dirt road ran down the village center, leading to the three story building. Andrill had said Sol-har was pitiful, but she had not expected this.

“You could turn back now,” Gaelin quietly spoke from beside her.

She cast him a side glance and saw him gazing intently on the village. From their position they could both see people going about their business. He wore an expression Annallya could only describe as grim.

“This can only be as bad as facing down my mother.” she retorted. The remark actually brought a smile to the man’s face. They nodded to each other, and Annallya followed alongside her mentor towards Sol-har. She made sure to hold the cloak close to herself, as per instruction, almost as if it were armor. Eventually they crossed the invisible threshold of the village, and Annallya was allowed her first up close look at how humans lived. To her eyes it was incredible, simply observing so many human men and women in one area together, living in the wild yet behaving the same as Titans in a city.  At this point in the day the sun was almost about to set, and the sky was a mass of swirling pink and blue. Yet there was just enough daylight left that the people of Sol-har could continue to work. Men were everywhere doing all manner of work she had only ever seen women do. Some were out in the front yard of their own homes chopping wood, others making repairs of some kind on their own houses. A blacksmith and his apprentice stood by a forge, the ring of the hammer echoed rhythmically through the air from them. Some men drove carts, pulled by animals Annallya had never seen before. They were tall, powerful looking beasts, with skinny legs, large chests, long faces, and a mane of long thick hair.

“What manner of animal are they?” she whispered to Gaelin.

“Horses,” he muttered back. “We use them to pull carts or to ride on for travel.”

“Astonishing.” she replied, eyes wide.

All of the men she saw wore clothes of plain wool and boots, all of which were noticeably dusty from work. The women wore equally plain clothes, although theirs were radically different from those worn in Thylara. Their clothes covered almost their whole body. Their sleeves reach all the way down to their wrists, when not rolled up to their elbows as some women had them. They wore slippers, similar to the ones Jess had worn, but not as nice looking, and their skirts reached all the way down to their ankles. How could one be expected to fight while wearing something like that? Then again, no one seemed to be carrying any weapons, only tools. As Annallya continued to gaze around she noticed a few passing people would stop and look at her, which made her shiver inside.

“I think they suspect me,” she whispered sharply to her companion.

“They’re aware of you,” Gaelin corrected. “Travelers aren’t new in Sol-har, but they’re not exactly an everyday thing. Just keep acting like you’ve got nothing to hide.”

“While I continue to hide under this cloak?” she retorted.

Gaelin huffed out a breath in what was the barest form of a laugh. “I trusted you enough to bring you here. Trust is give and take.”

Realizing he had a point, Annallya nodded ever so slightly under her shallow hood. They continued to walk down the dirt path, giving her the opportunity to glimpse more of this haven and its people. She eventually spied the blacksmith’s forge and almost gasped aloud. Standing at the forge, a hammer in his gloved fist, was the single largest man Annallya had ever seen. The smiths in Thylara had always been powerful looking women, with well defined muscles, but this man easily dwarfed all of them. He looked to stand as tall as Gaelin, with arms thicker than Annallya’s legs. The hammer he held almost looked small in his hands, the man was a mammoth!

Suddenly Gaelin grunted and Annallya turned to look at him.

“Everyone seems to be heading somewhere. Wonder why?”

“Should we investigate?” she asked.

“Might as we- . . . oh.” he said flatly.

Annallya looked ahead of her to see a woman approaching them. She was dressed similar to the other village women, in a blue woolen shirt and skirt, with white sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair was of an almond shade, which contrasted with her bright green eyes. Her face was pretty, with well defined cheek bones, yet the wrinkles at her eyes showed she was a woman of maturity. She had a basket of fruit which she held propped upon her shoulder, supported by her arm. Gaelin stopped, and she with him, and waited to see if it was truly them the woman was heading for. Sure enough, though, she stopped right in front of them. Gaelin removed his hood while the woman looked them both over, her face was a mask of neutrality.

“I see no furs on you today Gaelin. Have you finally decided to offer yourself up?” she asked with just the slightest trace of heat in her voice.

If Gaelin detected the heat, he did not allow it to touch him. “One day soon Idoata, you’ll all watch me dance to the Titans.”

Idoata sniffed. “If that’s true, then that day can’t come soon enough. Yesterday wouldn’t be soon enough.”

“I have work that needs to be finished.” he replied.

Idoata looked from him to Annallya. “I see,” she said flatly.

Annallya merely bowed her head to the woman, just as if she were addressing her mother. “My name is Annallya. This kind man was escorting me to your village.”

The woman gave her a small smile. “Heh, kind? You sure about that, girl?”

Annallya could not fathom where this contempt was coming from, and why Gaelin was allowing it without rebuttal. He merely stood there, his face impassive, his eyes calm.

“I was travelling alone,” she explained, turning back to Idoata. “When I encountered two bandits in the woods. Gaelin arrived and dispatched them before they could harm me, then offered to show me safely to this haven.”

At hearing that Idoata’s features softened a bit. She looked to Gaelin, who had been looking sideways at Annallya. That had not been part of the story they had made up for her to tell.

“Figures violence’d be the one thing you’re good for.” Despite her comment, the heat had left her voice. She looked back to Annallya. “Well I’m glad he was able to bring you here in one piece. Where are you from, dear?”

“Another settlement,” she told the woman. “Far off. I am a traveller now, looking to see a different world.”

Idoata nodded her head. “Well when you find a better one, let me know. I’ll pack up and move to it at once.” she muttered humorlessly.

“Idoata,” Gaelin interjected. “Where’s everyone going?”

Idoata looked behind her at the villagers migrating away from them, then turned back to Annallya. “You picked a good day to come by. We got a Whistler over at the Inn just the other day. Everyone’s going over to see him. You can get yourself something to eat, dear, you look famished.”

“That sounds lovely, Idoata. Thank you.” she replied.

Idoata nodded once to her. “If you need anything while you’re staying here, feel free to ask me.”’

Annallya nodded to her. Idoata gave Gaelin one last scrutinizing look, before walking off with her basket. Gaelin took out his flask and enjoyed a long sip, then continued walking in the direction of the other villagers. Annallya fell in beside him.

“Well this is a treat,” he told her. “You get to see a Whistler perform.”

“Pray tell what a Whistler is.” she said.

“A Whistler is an entertainer who travels from village to settlement. They do tricks, play music, sing songs, and tell stories.” he explained.

“Stories?” she asked. “What kind of stories?”

“Old stories,” Gaelin elaborated. “Stories about history, about adventures, and heroes.”

“Really!” she exclaimed. Stories of heroes and adventurers, such as the great Tiana Farstrider, had always been her favorite. “I wish very much to listen. Let us hurry.”

At once she began walking at a pace that was almost a jog. Gaelin cursed as he hurried to catch up to her. She continued until they had arrived at the Inn, which happened to be the tallest building in the village. A sign above the humble little Inn read The Black Stallion, with a painted picture of a black horse just beneath it. From the noises she could hear from the streets, it must have been packed inside.

“Remember my rules,” Gaelin whispered fiercely as he held open the door for her.

Once inside, Annallya was confronted by a cacophony of voices. The common room of the Inn was surprisingly similar to most Inn’s in Thylara, at least in layout. Over to the far wall opposite the entrance was a large stone fireplace that was left unlit, lounging chairs sat close by it. Chandeliers with many candles provided the room with considerable light, despite the setting sun. Tables were scattered throughout the room, with men and women alike seated and chattering away with one another. Not all of the tables were full, as only about half of the village was here so far, so they had no trouble claiming a table for themselves. The air was thick with smoke and everyone seemed to be enjoying glasses of a strange drink Annallya had never seen before. To the far right of the room was a refreshment bar, with a few large barrels behind it, tended by a young man. Next to the bar was a doorway, where Annallya could see at least two different women cooking, meaning it must have been a kitchen. To the far left was a space left cleared save for a single stool. Once they were seated, a dark skinned man came out of the kitchen and approached their table. He was a stout man as well, with a round belly hidden behind a stained apron, yet moderately tall. His salt and peppered hair was all still on his head, despite his age. His face, despite the clean shave, looked weathered. He smiled a small smile as he walked over to them.

“It’s good to see here Gaelin.” he expressed. His voice sounded as weathered as his face looked. “I wasn’t sure if word had reached you. We have a Whistler for the next week or so.”

“I was already here when I heard the news.” Gaelin explained, standing up to shake his hand. “Rhollan, this is Annallya. A traveller I met and escorted here. Annallya, Rhollan owns and runs the Inn.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Rhollan.” she said while standing up and giving a slight curtsy.

“Ah, an educated young woman.” he chuckled. “Don’t you bother yourself with all that, girl. We’re all simple country folk here.”

He extended his hand, and she took it in a firm grip and shook hands. “Will you be staying with us here?” he asked.

“I am only passing through, but I would love to stay and see the Whistler.” she explained.

“A blessing from the Star’s he’s been.” Rhollan told them as they all sat down. “It’s been years since we’ve had a Whistler here. It’s good to see life back in Sol-har. What can I get the two of you?”

“Have any of Joni’s beef stew back there?” Gaelin asked.

“You kidding?” Rhollan asked with a smile. “She has half the village women back there helping her. With the whole village looking to see him perform, they’ve been slaving away for hours.”

Now that Annallya looked, she saw the common room was really filling up. Luckily they had chosen a table with a good view of the cleared space. “Two bowls of stew for us.” Gaelin told him. “A mug of beer for myself, and some wine for Annallya.”

Annallya looked over at Gaelin questioningly. She had no idea what beef was, or wine for that matter. But she quickly gave Rhollan a smile and a nod. “That sounds lovely. Thank you Rhollan.”

Gaelin reached into a small purse at his belt and pulled out a handful of coins, which he passed over to Rhollan, who shook his head. “I told you Gaelin, you don’t need to-”

“Rhollan,” Gaelin interrupted, giving him a level stare. “I told you I pay.”

The man gave a sigh as he took the coins and left them for the bar. He came back a moment later with a mug, and a smaller cup filled with a sweet smelling red liquid. When he had left again Annallya looked uneasily at Gaelin, indicating to her cup.

“Gaelin, what is this?” she asked.

Gaelin raised an eyebrow. “You Titan’s don’t have wine in Thylara?” he asked in a low voice.

Annallya shook her head “I have never heard of it. Is . . . does it contain . . . .” she was not sure how to finish that sentence. Stories from her childhood about wild men drinking blood began to resurface in her mind.

“All it is is juice from a fruit,” he told her while sipping his beer. “A very small fruit. That’s probably why Titan’s never thought to make it before.”

“Oh,” was all she said as she gave it another look. It did smell sweet, unlike blood. Very carefully she gave a taste, and immediately felt both a sweet and bitter flavor wash over her tongue. At first she could not decide if she liked it or hated it. Once it was gone, however, the delicious after taste that lingered beckoned her to try some more, which she did.

“This is incredible,” she told him. “What kind of fruit is this made from?”

Gaelin only laughed, in response. Annallya sipped at her drink conservatively, the bitterness was somehow enticing her to try more.

“Gaelin!”

The two companions turned to look in the direction of the voice that had called out his name. From out of the crowd of villagers, appeared a young boy no more than twelve winters of age. He had sandy brown hair worn in a messy fashion. He was light of skin, and green of eyes which shown with the wistful light of youth. He was dressed in similarly plain clothes as the rest of the village. There was something very welcoming to him, almost familiar. It was the way that he smiled, she realized. The boy had a very warm smile about him. He stopped just in front of their table, visibly excited.

“Gaelin! You came to see the Whistler too?” he asked.

Gaelin sighed, yet his smiled never faltered. “I hadn’t planned on it, but I was strong armed into sticking around.”

“Really?” the boy laughed. “Who’s tough enough to force you into doing something?”

Rather than answer him, Gaelin simply nodded his head over towards Annallya. For the first time, the boy noticed that there was another presence at the table. His eyes quickly widened when they rested on Annallya. He took in her beautiful appearance and poised mannerisms, and awkwardly bowed his head to her. “B-begging your pardon ma’am. I didn’t see you there. Hello.”

Dispite herself, Annallya chuckled. This was her first time speaking with a human even younger than Andrill. She found him to be adorable, both in appearance, and in his awkward behavior. It was comforting to know that the awkwardness of youth was shared by both humans and Titans.

“It is alright, young man.” she gleefully assured him. “I know that you meant no offense. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Tayell, this is Annallya,” Gaelin explained. “A traveller I met in the woods and escorted here. Annallya, this is Tayell.”

Tayell continued to gaze at Annallya with those wondering green eyes. “Is . . . is she a . . . a Lady?”

Gaelin chuckled out loud, causing Annallya to quirk an eyebrow at his response. “With the mouth she has on her? She’s no Lady. Just a traveler.”

“Oh,” Tayell said. “Well it’s still good to meet you. You mind if I sit here? You guys got a good view for when the Whistler comes”

“Of course, Tayell.” she nodded. “Yours would be a great improvement over the questionable company I have been keeping lately.”

She cast a look towards Gaelin as she spoke. He seemed to be about to say something in response, but quieted along with the rest of the common room when a man walked up to the cleared area of the room. He was quite a strange looking man, compared to all other men Annallya had ever met. He was long limbed and lanky, much like her. He had wild, brown hair that looked to be beginning to recede a little, sticking out in every direction atop his head. He also had a beard extending quite a bit passed his chin, and looked equally wild, compared to Gaelin’s relatively neat beard. The man’s shirt was as green as summertime grass, with tan pants tucked into leather boots that reached up to his calves, and a leather vest with bells hung to strings at each breast. There was no doubt that this man was the Whistler. It was not just his outfit that gave him away, but the way he moved as well. He almost danced to the open area that served as his stage. In his hands were two cases. He set them down by the stool and removed a metal pipe with holes and caps from one. From the other he removed a wooden instrument with a round body, a long neck, and eight strings. Gaelin explained that they were musical instruments, one a flute, and the other a mandolin. The crowd cheered when he brought them both out. The Whistler took the mandolin and slung it over his shoulder, so that it rested level with his chest, and took up the flute. Slowly he began to tap his foot in a beat, clapping along as well. At his beckoning the crowd began to clap with him, Annallya clapped as well. When the whole room was clapping in a steady beat the Whistler put the flute to his lips and began to play. The music was unbelievable to Annallya’s ears. It was high in pitch, yet soft, and indescribably beautiful. The Whistler’s fingers flew across the instrument, and each note flowed together like drops of water within a river. It was like someone had given a voice to the wind!

The crowd continued to clap out a beat for the man, who danced a few steps across the open floor, before standing on one leg while continuing to play! Eventually the minstrel ceased playing the flute and, setting it aside, began to strum the mandolin. The Whistler peered out at the crowd, an eccentric look in his eye, a wide smile plastered on his face, and he began to sing.

Walking nigh ‘pon velvet green.

Beneath the star lit cozy sky.

My fair lover came to me in a dream.

Where we danced alone on mountain high.

Walking nigh ‘pon gravel path.

Travelled by those longing for the grave.

No possessions save a walking lath.

A hero’s story to the world I gave.

Annallya listened in rapture as the Whistler spun a tale, the like of which she had never heard before. It was a story about an old warrior, looking back on his life in curiosity. His lover had been taken from him and so, feeling empty inside, traveled the world, seeking his own death. Throughout his wanderings, the warrior became a hero to many helpless or meek people, fighting on their behalf or performing noble deeds. Now, at the twilight of his life, he found the death he had been seeking for years through bloodshed and combat. Only, death appeared to him as his lover, taking him in her arms, and carrying him to the Stars in peace. It almost made her weep to hear. Even Gaelin seemed taken by the emotion of the tale. When she glanced over at Tayell, he quickly turned his eyes from her, back to the Whistler. It was difficult to discern in the candlelight, but she could have sworn that she saw his checks turn a slight shade of red. When the Whistler concluded, he bowed his head to the roar of applause sent up by the common room. Waving a hand, he somehow brought the room to a sedated state, before he addressed the crowd.

“An old favorite of mine, I can’t resist starting with that one.” he chuckled. “You’ll find that, as I stay here a short while, I’m quite fond of tales of heroes.”

The Whistler returned the flute to its case, he would not be needing it for his next tale. He continued to speak to the room while he tuned the mandolin. “My most favorite tales in particular come from the legends of the Guardians.”

Mutterings began to rise from the crowded common room. By this time, a serving girl had brought two stemming bowls of food to Gaelin and Annallya. It was a stew of some kind, filled with vegetables, some of which Annallya recognized as smaller versions of vegetables Titans grew. It did contain a type of meat, beef Gaelin had called it, that was new to her. Upon tasting it, Annallya determined it to be delectable, and all but dived face first into her bowl, her appetite having made her almost forget her table manners. A young serving boy came by and refilled her cup for her while she and Gaelin ate. Annallya forced herself to eat slowly and in a dignified manner. Partly out of respect for the manners her mother had taught her, and partly so that she could continue to hear the Whistler.

“Yes the Guardians, I see you’re all well familiar with them.” he said with a good natured smile. “Known by many by their full name the ‘Guardians of the Pillars of Morning and Twilight’. I always liked that name, very flashy and dramatic. Though doesn’t quite roll of the tongue very well, more like spills out of your mouth. Kind of like what’ll be happening here tonight after your sixth or seventh drink.”

He paused to allow a laugh to roll through the crowd, before continuing. “Really they would have gotten their message across just fine if they had stuck with the Guardians. But of course, everyone has to feel important, and compensate for something.” he muttered that last part loud enough for the whole room to hear. Together they all joined the Whistler in a laugh.

“I see that you are all familiar with the name, but how many of you are truly aware of where their name came from?” The Whistler paused as a few hands rose among the room. “Not many I see. Well sit back and have a pint for me while I spin this one. I know I will.” He added, as he produced a large mug of beer from the stool behind him. Taking a sip as he sat down on the stool, the Whistler plucked at the strings of his mandolin while he spoke to the common room.

“Now, we can never entirely be sure of where we as men and women came from. All we know from the oldest words of wisdom uttered from a mage’s lips is that we have always been travelers. Traversing corners of this earth that have likely not been inhabited for centuries or millennia. Immense groups of people; men, women, and children enough to fill several cities. They had to travel in such numbers. It was, and still is, a hostile world for us to live in. Beasts we’ve long forgotten to time were commonplace, and feasted regularly on any lone man they came across. Not to mention the Titans that hounded them constantly.”

Now that got Annallya’s attention. They certainly had beliefs as to the origin of Titan’s, but they never went into much detail about Titan and human relations. Is it possible that what was going on now had been happening for centuries? She vaguely noticed Tayell looking at her again.

“Our ancestors needed a haven to protect them from their enemies and give them hope that they would survive. The Stars in their eternal mercy heard their plights. They lead our people to a fortress, carved from an entire mountain, by the hands of unknown beings that would have dwarfed a Titan in size. This fortress, one that was large enough to be its own nation, stood as unmoving against the tides of armies as would the very earth itself. Walls powerful enough to stop floods in their tracks sheltered them. They allowed our people to build homes, towns, and eventually a massive city to live in. A city that would make the Titans of today envious of their craftsmanship and splendor. And in the very center of this city, stood a large circle of twelve pillars, five gleamed as white is the purest of ivory, and five as pitch black as onyx. Made from a type of stone that has never before or since been seen in this world. The leaders of the city decreed this fortress was where we as a people became a nation, and this would be where we as a people would live until we had seen the end of our last day.”

Annallya had become so enthralled in the Whistler’s story, that she hardly took notice of the serving girl who had come to take their bowls away and refill her cup, or Tayell’s stares. Taking a sip, she continued to listen.

“Unfortunately, our ancestors troubles didn’t end once they were behind those walls. Not long after they had arrived than the Titans were upon them. The walls, as powerful as they would appear to any other army, would be little more than an inconvenience to a hoard of bloodthirsty Titans. Our ancestors knew this, and yet they chose to face down their lifelong enemies, rather than cower away beneath their beds, waiting for the roofs of their homes to be torn asunder. And so, gathering any and every weapon they had at their disposal, the people of the city they had dubbed Nephrotora, which means ‘That which stands’ in a forgotten language, resolved to defend their home till their dying breath.”

The plucking of the mandolin strings, combined with the hypnotic voice of the Whistler, had enthralled the entire room. While he spoke, every man and woman in the room could hear the marching of the armies. Annallya barely noticed that, at some point during the story, the Whistler had started stomping his foot.

“The Titans appeared at the break of dawn. Giant women who taunted the trees with their height, encroached upon the city of living stone. They bore no arms, for this was long before Titans had harnessed the power of metal crafting. Instead, they sought to beat the walls down with their bare hands and unequalled strength. The sound of their charge was that of a rolling thunderstorm, come down upon the inhabitants of this glistening haven. Only, when the savage Titans dared approach the walls themselves, the Pillars came a life with the light of the Sun and Stars themselves. Stone that was carved by no being ever witnessed by our people, shown like a beacon of hope to the defenders that had believed that they fought to die. The Titans pitted their might against the walls of Nephrotora, and found that they could not so much as scratch the stones.

“They beat at the defenses for hours, all the while our people hurled arrows and spears, hoping to hurt them in any way that they could. Their arms hit true, and Titans fell that day, slain by the hands of mortal men. The Titans fled, but not before shouting a promise to return, and destroy the whole city. Our people took their threat to heart, and resolved to be ready for their return. And so the smiths of Nephrotora, armed with the sacred ore of the mountain, and guided by the wisdom and power of mages, furnished arms and armour unlike any that has ever been crafted. Legend says that their armor couldn’t be pierced by anything, not even the swords each warrior carried at his hip. These swords, save for the armor of the knights, could cut through anything. Twelve of their greatest warriors were chosen to bear these armaments into battle. Masters of the blade, who had stood to battle against Titans before without any kind of protection, took a vow in that long forgotten language, to defend the hope of Nephrotora. They were the Guardians of the Pillars of Morning and Twilight.”

Not a single person in that room so much as drew breath. They were enamoured by the scene the Whistler painted before them. This became inexplicably important to Annallya. She needed to hear how this story ended.

“Only a few days later did the Titans return. This time, they had armed themselves with stones and tree trunks. They sought to beat hurl them over the walls and topple the Pillars themselves. Without their power, there would be nothing to stop the monsters from tearing down the walls and laying waste to every home in Nephrotora. Only, this time, rather than find a city of frightened prey cowering behind stone walls, they found an enemy set to oppose them. The Guardians of the Pillars road out from the protection of the walls to cast their defiance into the maws of the Titan invaders. Though the Titans tried to step on them, their steeds proved too swift for the giant barbarians to catch. Still they laughed at our attempts, believing us to be too weak to stand against them.”

While still strumming his mandolin and stomping his foot, the Whistler looked up at the crowd. The look in his eye was more than just wild, it was downright defiant, as if he too saw the battle raging before them. “But I tell you, we did far more than stand against them. We cut the beasts down to size!”

As if the dam had broken, the entire common room erupted into cheers. Husbands and wives clutched at each other, as if a real battle had been fought and they had just come out of it alive. Men pounded the table as they tilted back another mouthful of ale, toasting the heroes of legends. Annallya found herself surprisingly emotional over the fate of these brave men, a sentiment that would have seemed unfathomable to her mere months before. Casting a look over at Gaelin, she found his face as impassive as always. Perhaps it was just a trick of the candlelight, but she could have sworn she saw his eyes glimmer. The Whistler continued.

“The Guardians used their swords, weapons that no Titan has ever face before, and felled them at the ankle like wheat harvesters. They rode through the ranks of attackers, hacking left and right for all they were worth. For so long, the Titans had tormented their people, without any way for us to fight back against them. But now, we had the Pillars, and the Pillars had the Guardians. We hefted our fears, our anger, and our determination, and smoat our enemies a blow the likes of which has never before been dealt!”

More cheers erupted, and the Whistler allowed it to continue until everyone had quieted down on their own. Only afterwards, did he continue.

“The Titans fled in great numbers that day and did not return for a long time. Our people rejoiced for many days afterwards. For the first time in the history of our people, we could make a life for ourselves. Though the Titans, and a host of other enemies, returned over the decades to attack again, Nephrotora stood as a haven for all of mankind for over six hundred years. Until the day that it finally fell to its enemies after the betrayal of Garagorn the Deceiver cost the city one of its greatest kings.

“Do not mistake this for the end of the story, my friends!” the Whistler exclaimed, reaching the crescendo of his performance. “Nephrotora may have fallen, but the Guardians’ job has not finished. We carry on their legacy. Though we do not fight battles as they have, we are in a war all the same. And we win by living out our lives, which is no different than our earliest ancestors strove with all of their might to do! If we live just one more day on this earth, we will have won!”

With that, the Whistler stopped his playing, stood up, and bowed to the room. The crowd answered him with a roaring cheer that almost literally shook the walls of the inn. Without even realizing it, Annallya found her own voice among the shouts of celebration. She stood with the rest of the room, clapping her hands and stamping her feet, trying to make as much noise for the entertainer as possible. In all of her excited movement, the hood was shaken loose from her face, and fell to her shoulders. She was about to replace it, but realized that no one in the room had taken any notice.

No one, except Tayell.

The boy froze, his eyes transfixed upon her face, as he analyzed every detail. Very slowly, his mouth opened, and quivered. Before she could ask him if he was alright, Tayell attempted to stand up and step back all in the same motion. His haste caused him to trip over his own chair and fall backwards, bringing to him the attention of the front portion of the room. He scrambled backwards on his back, a look of abject horror on his face.

“You look like her!” he screamed, now drawing the rest of the room’s attention. “You look like the woman who comes every year! You’re a Titan!”