The next day Arwain takes us on a trip around Nyth. In exploring the town, we get to see how small it really is. The Cynefin guest house is located at the edge of a long, smooth road that is mostly empty, except for a few cars, which remind me of the old citro?n 2CV. A couple of children are skipping along on the sidewalk. They seem to be blowing soap bubbles. One of them creates a little snowman by stacking three bubbles on top of each other. The others laugh and try to catch it, which makes it burst and makes them giggle even louder.

  The road that leads to the town center, a town square surrounded by pastel colored houses. It is filled with people, busy hurrying along as people do, but they do not seem to mind it. One woman is hanging from a window, short black hair blowing in the wind, singing a song as she hangs her laundry out to dry. A real life Snow White.

  As we make our way across the town square and I have to try to not lose sight of the others in the crowd, the air feels a little harder to breathe and I cannot help but feel smothered. I write it off as not having been around this amount of people in a while now. But something tells me it is more than that and it bothers me to not be able to lay my finger on it.

  To stop thinking about it, I shift my attention to the individuals in the crowd surrounding me. They are all clothed in colorful, light robes that match the houses; peach and powdery blue, lavender and lemon yellow, seagreen and seashell. But most importantly, they seem to be wearing high quality fabrics, silks and velvets and all kinds of material I have never seen before. Their necklaces are laced with gems in the most creative and strange shapes.

  Our first mate must have noticed it too. Once we finally make it out of the crowd and I have let out a big sigh, he asks Arwain: ‘How come the people in this place are able to dress so luxuriously?’

  Immediately I’m afraid we must have offended him and that he is readying himself to throw us off this planet, but he just smiles and answers: ‘When the Founder first arrived here, a few brave explorers found out that this planet has a very extensive cave system. Initially led there by traces of gold, they decided to thoroughly investigate the cave for other treasures. During this expedition they stumbled upon a special alloy. Inside this alloy, which has since been named enaid, a reaction takes place that causes the substance to glow a blue light. We do not exactly know what that reaction is, but it must either be a very slow reaction or take very little resources, because none of the enaid that has been found has stopped glowing yet. You can imagine that such a substance does well on the interplanetary market.’

  ‘And you are not afraid that anyone might be so interested in this substance, that they’d be willing to bypass the whole transaction and instead take it straight from the source?’, Second asks.

  ‘And you don’t think we didn’t invest in measures to protect this place if that scenario were to happen?’. He grins knowingly. ‘We might be peace-loving folk, but we aren’t as na?ve as you think.’

  I wait for a few hours while the others go to sleep one by one. It is not like I would be able to fall asleep anyway, I think, as I slowly pull out the rusty ladder and make my way over to the roof.

  In a world where artificial light is scarce, you really get a glance at how insane it is to think that we might be the only living creatures in this universe. Stars and stars as far as the eye can see, forming their own solar systems. A symphony of light arriving here from thousands of light years away. You would think I might get bored from looking at it, after experiencing it for hundreds of years. But I think those stars became as close of a friend to me as one could be. And the experience is different now that I have my feet on solid ground again. Here, I feel like a spectator, observing from a distance, instead of a part of that ocean of galaxies.

  ‘It doesn’t get any less amazing, does it.’, I hear a whisper beside me.

  I must have rocketed five feet into the air. As I get ready to attack my mugger, I realize it’s Arwain.

  He calms me down. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not here to attack you.’

  My heart feels like it is about to jump out of my chest. ‘It would be nice if you could warn me in advance next time. What are you doing here?’

  He shrugs. ‘I often sleep here.’, he says as he points to a mattress in the corner of the roof. ‘The stars always had a calming effect on me.’

  ‘Sorry for disturbing your sleep then.’

  He shrugs again and turns to look at the stars.

  It remains quiet for a while and I’m wondering if I should leave him alone. Then he points at the sky. ‘Do you see that cluster of stars?’

  I try to follow his finger, but there are too many stars to be sure of what he is talking about.

  ‘Find the biggest, brightest star in the sky.’, he continues.

  I find it easily, as it is at least thrice as bright as the other stars and has a faint pink aura. ‘I see it.’

  ‘Good. You might have noticed that it has a pink glow. That’s why we call it Briallen or Primrose. Now, if you look to the left of it, you might be able to see a circle of smaller stars.’

  I nod slowly.

  ‘Imagine that circle is a wheel. If you extend your view towards Briallen again, you might see that the wheel is attached to a barrow with a very long handle, with Briallen in the middle of the barrow.’

  It takes me a while to see, but once I see it, I cannot unsee the wheelbarrow in the sky.

  ‘We accurately call it the Wilber constellation, which means wheelbarrow.’, he says.

  With a sense of wonder he looks at Briallen, before continuing: ‘Around here, there is not much in terms of entertainment. So a game we made up to fill our need for entertainment is to make up a mythical origin story about how Wilber came to be. The person who comes up with the most original story, can ask the other person any question they want.’

  He looks at me expectantly.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  I nod slowly. ‘Okay, I’m in. But you have to go first.’

  ‘That’s a deal.’ He nods, coughs and starts his story:

  ‘There once was a farmer who was very handsome. This handsome farmer lived in a very beautiful land, far away from here, with gardens with the most fertile soil that overflowed with flowers and fruit. He himself had the most fruitful garden of them all, acres and acres of crops he harvested each year. This caused him to become one of the wealthiest men in the country.

  But the funny thing about being human, is that no wealth is ever enough to satisfy, so the farmer sought for that what he did not yet have and could not have. It considered a fair maiden who was betrothed to a formidable baron, who was, coincidentally, the farmer’s biggest rival in the agriculture industry. The farmer asked for her hand. She was willing to consider him, if and only if the farmer brought her a wheelbarrow filled with his finest primroses, which were the rarest of all flowers in this land.

  So the farmer brought here a wheelbarrow of primroses. And the lady took the flowers, but she did not take the farmer. After storing the roses away safely, she called on her husband to be and told him about the farmer who dared to approach her in this perverted way. The severely offended farmer took it upon himself to bring retribution for this sinful act. Together with a few of his knights, he burned down part of the farmer’s garden. The farmer, blinded by rage, returned the favor, destroying land of the baron and his deceitful minx. This move was of course met with another push back from the baron, which in turn caused the farmer to react angrily. The fight continued until every piece of land of both the farmer and the baron was annihilated and they were both left empty handed.

  Now, you have to know that the combined land of this baron and farmer was extensive and fed about fifty percent of the country’s population. When their argument blew out of proportion and the harvest was destroyed, it threw the land in a crisis. While starvation was imminent, this problem might have been solved if it weren’t for the whole political and economic system falling apart. The aftermath was more than just ugly, a grim and abhorrent picture of death and despair. The farmer had enough money left to leave the country and start a land elsewhere. But he will never forget the wheelbarrow of primroses, the thing that started it all and a symbol for what happens when you let greed and desire get the better of you.’

  A pair of old, run down eyes stares far into the distance, behind the planets of this solar system to a solar system far away. After a deep silence, Arwain turns to me. ‘Your turn.’, he says with his smile, while he rearranges the collar of his purple cape. I know what story to tell, but I think for a moment on how to start.

  ‘This is a story about the origin land of all people. In its prime, development was off the charts and growth of the population was rapid. However a crisis arose, since the land was a small land which could not fit all its new, wonderful inhabitants. In search of a solution, the inhabitants decided to spread out to other lands, over the hills and across the seven seas and the origin land became great once again.

  But because of the increase in immigration, endless possible lands were discovered in the process, many that were higher in riches than the origin land. The opposite problem was now at hand, there were too few people willing to stay in the land to keep its society turning.

  A few young, brave knights willing to find for their motherland, decided to found the order of Briallen, with on their banner a primrose, a symbol for youth and new beginnings. Their goal was to reestablish the political and economic structure of the land. They all swore an oath to protect the land until the day they died.

  At the time they all imagined this day to arrive in a few decades. However, in the discovery of a new land, an explorer had brought back a special herb. An alchemist that was tinkering with this herb brewed a potion that turned out to be a cure against the aging process. All knights took the potion, which bound them to the planet for an eternity. One of the knights, the red knight, knew that during their oath they did not take into account this turning of circumstances. She brought the issue to the order and all decided to declare the oath invalid.

  A few of the other knights decided to take a new oath, again swearing to protect the earth until its death. The red knight asked them to reconsider, to ask themselves whether they were able to make this commitment. But all of them swore that they would be there, fighting for the planet until its deathbed. So the red knight swore with them, blinded by a belief that the others would not betray their oath. But when times got tough and wars broke out, the knights faith in their cause started to falter. The foundation of their order was crumbling, doubt trickled in until the order came apart.

  One knight, the green knight, was the first to leave, the first to betray the oath. A letter with empty words explained in summary that the green knight had gone to search for fame and fortune elsewhere. This knight had fought side by side with the red knight since the beginning. The red knight considered this knight one of her most trusted allies and one of her dearest friends. But when push came to shove, this friend left her behind. And with her disappearance, one sheep had strayed and the rest followed. Only a few remained, including the red knight who could not betray her oath. But with the others gone, there were too few left to fight for the fate of the origin land. The land was torn apart by warlords and bandits.

  With no land to defend, the knights that remained were freed from their oath, with the price being everything. Everything they had given their lives for, they had given up eternal slumber for, was gone. So they were forced to leave, to seek refuge elsewhere. But after all this time, centuries they had spent fighting for a dying land, no other land was willing to take them in. All the humans that had left ages ago had claimed their own place and they were willing to fight to defend it. It is said that, even to this day, the remaining knights still wander under the primrose banner, searching for a new place they can call home.’

  When I end my story, Arwain is still smiling his docile smile at me. ‘I am not an authority on what makes a good story, but I certainly consider yours to be one of them.’

  I do not know how to answer. I end up giving him a simple ‘thanks’, and hope that will suffice.

  ‘However’, Arwain continues, ‘now we have a problem. How do we decide which of our stories was the best? We don’t exactly have an unbiased jury who can decide for us.’

  ‘I guess that makes the outcome of this competition a tie then.’, I answer. ‘

  I guess that would be fair. So, that means we can both ask each other a question.’

  Before I can react, his normally glossy gaze becomes sharp as he asks me: ‘Has the red knight managed to become independent from the green knight?’

  Caught off guard, I answer hastily. ‘Well of course, the green knight has left many centuries ago. The red knight has had to fight for herself all that time.’

  ‘That’s not what I mean.’ He still smiles, but it seems like a veil has been removed, as if he has taken off his cloak of a simple and agreeable character.

  ‘Independence is not merely a matter of material dependency, it’s also a mental dependency. I guess what I am asking is, is the red knight still mentally dependent on the idea of the green knight?’

  I snort, but his words feel like I am being punctured by a thousand icicles. ‘No.’, I answer.

  ‘My turn.’ Arwain nods and looks at me as if I have given him the answer he wanted.

  But two can play at this game. ‘If the farmer could speak to the fair lady one last time, what would he want to say?’

  Arwain smiles, a smile belonging to an eagle. He stands up before he says: ‘He would probably be mad at her. But in his anger he would realize he is not the person to be calling the kettle black. He would realize when he saw her, that he was not the only one feeling consumed by guilt. And in leaving the dying land, he would forgive her and be merciful, taking her with him.’

  He had walked towards his makeshift bed and he turned around a final time. ‘And maybe, just maybe, they would find a new land, where they would both work hard to help others and try to make up for their past. One step at a time.’

  And again, he smiled a docile smile, his eyes glossy and soft again. ‘Goodnight Red.’