ashwynne
Sia
Fable
Mentioned: ashwynne
A Monk's Journey Lore
The night before his execution, Koda woke to the sound of a guard rapping at his door.
He rose with a sharp intake of breath, his pulse thundering in his ears. It took a moment to recall where he was, the shadows and shapes unfamiliar to his eyes. Koda took time to breathe, to remember, his frozen fingers fumbling at his blankets. Cold, hard ground dug into his sit bones. He looked up, but no constellations twinkled and twirled above him. He blinked, but his familiar writing desk was absent. He inhaled through his nose, and the musty stench of fear brought the answer forward in sword-sharp clarity.
A prison cell. Now he remembered.
Three days ago, Koda had made himself an enemy of the Jinshu Empire. He’d began by freeing a sick man bound and gagged outside the Palace of Prudence. The white-haired gentleman had been tied hand and foot, left half-dead in a wagon bound west. Assuming him to be some unfortunate debtor, Koda took pity on the man by burning his ropes to ash and carrying him to a healer. Then he lied to the elderly woman, claiming that the man was his uncle.
The man wasn’t his uncle. According to officials of the Jinshu Empire, he was a traitor.
By the following afternoon, they had arrested Koda for treason.
Another rap at the door. Koda blinked away the memories, shivering beneath his blankets. “Yes?” he asked, voice tremulous over the thundering of his heart. Monk he may be, but self-preservation thrummed strong and sure in his veins. He and his head were dear friends, and he hated the thought of being parted from it.
Golden torchlight crept into the room as the door swung open. Koda squinted, fearing a stony-faced executioner. It was the head guard, however, with no rope in hand, and he beckoned Koda to follow.
They did everything with hushed expediency, an air of illegality present in their breathless whispers and hasty motions. With tired feet and a numb mind, Koda tripped between the two guards, boneless and weak as they carried him from the cell. They pushed supplies into his hands, shoved a hooded coat onto his shoulders, and hissed directions into his ears.
“Why?” he asked the guards, knowing his question sounded ungrateful. But Koda of Ennai was a monk of little to no importance. He'd traveled to the grand city of Taishu to scour the famed library, searching for sacred texts their temple had lost in last year’s fire. They had instructed him to copy and bind the books before returning, bringing the knowledge back to his brothers in meticulous handwriting and fresh ink.
Invigorated by his task and his purpose, Koda had arrived with starry-eyed wonder and awe, frozen by the breathtaking heights of the buildings, the hundreds of smells, the streams of pedestrians, and the myriad lanterns dotting the streets like rogue stars.
At first it had been a magnificent dream. Now it was an inescapable nightmare.
“Why?” he repeated. The guards didn’t answer. Either they were too scared, or they didn’t know themselves. They frog-marched a confused Koda through the shadowed back alleys of Taishu, dumping him onto a wagon. As they concealed him, they instructed him to get off and head west at the next town. Then they disappeared.
Koda did as he was told. Alone and lost, he settled in among the bags of grain and trembled as he counted the slow-moving stars.
Once the wagon rolled to a stop, the driver went to show his credentials to the city guard. Koda wriggled out of the sacks, being certain to leave behind three coppers before he scampered into the night.
Koda breathed warmth into his fists as he walked west, his breath clouding into mist before him. The stars pierced the darkness of night, guiding his way through the trees. He shivered beneath his robes, drawing his arms around himself, but even as he cursed the chill, a rosy pink kissed the sky along the horizon, promising warmth with the dawn.
Even as the first morning rays warmed him, the path was difficult. Hard rain had hit the forests along the west, muddying the meandering road he trudged along. His boots squelched in the wet earth and his ankles turned twice, but his own misfortunes dwindled into nothing as he saw another traveler along the way.
Koda gasped as he spotted the muddied young woman beside the road, a despairing expression fixed on the little of her face he could see. Yelping, he hid behind a well-placed shrub, his exhausted, illogical mind fearing recognition.
It was then that altruism, a permanent fixture of the inner workings of his mind and spirit, won over. No matter that his last good deed had nearly got him beheaded, Koda bravely emerged from his hiding spot. With slow, soft motions, he approached the woman and piped out a greeting.
He grimaced at the rasp that came out. Koda hoped his appearance wasn’t too horrifying, either. His face must look paler than usual, three days of little sleep and less food making his eyes too wide. His hair, normally shaved close to the skin, was a strange silver-white fuzz beneath the hood of his coat, and he knew he desperately needed a bath.
“May I help you?” he asked, holding out his palms in what he hoped communicated peaceful intentions. After taking inventory of his gifted knapsack, he knew he had a knife, a wicked-sharp thing with a bone-white hilt, but he wouldn’t use it on the woman. Koda hadn’t learned to fight. He didn’t even eat meat, so its use was limited in his hands.
Still, perhaps it was best not to mention it.
“It would be my honor,” Koda added with a shy smile, a tired phrase that still rang true amid his own despair. He showed her the contents of his knapsack, fit to bursting with food.
Mentioned: ashwynne
A Monk's Journey Lore
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A Monk's Journey
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A Monk's Journey
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The night before his execution, Koda woke to the sound of a guard rapping at his door.
He rose with a sharp intake of breath, his pulse thundering in his ears. It took a moment to recall where he was, the shadows and shapes unfamiliar to his eyes. Koda took time to breathe, to remember, his frozen fingers fumbling at his blankets. Cold, hard ground dug into his sit bones. He looked up, but no constellations twinkled and twirled above him. He blinked, but his familiar writing desk was absent. He inhaled through his nose, and the musty stench of fear brought the answer forward in sword-sharp clarity.
A prison cell. Now he remembered.
Three days ago, Koda had made himself an enemy of the Jinshu Empire. He’d began by freeing a sick man bound and gagged outside the Palace of Prudence. The white-haired gentleman had been tied hand and foot, left half-dead in a wagon bound west. Assuming him to be some unfortunate debtor, Koda took pity on the man by burning his ropes to ash and carrying him to a healer. Then he lied to the elderly woman, claiming that the man was his uncle.
The man wasn’t his uncle. According to officials of the Jinshu Empire, he was a traitor.
By the following afternoon, they had arrested Koda for treason.
Another rap at the door. Koda blinked away the memories, shivering beneath his blankets. “Yes?” he asked, voice tremulous over the thundering of his heart. Monk he may be, but self-preservation thrummed strong and sure in his veins. He and his head were dear friends, and he hated the thought of being parted from it.
Golden torchlight crept into the room as the door swung open. Koda squinted, fearing a stony-faced executioner. It was the head guard, however, with no rope in hand, and he beckoned Koda to follow.
They did everything with hushed expediency, an air of illegality present in their breathless whispers and hasty motions. With tired feet and a numb mind, Koda tripped between the two guards, boneless and weak as they carried him from the cell. They pushed supplies into his hands, shoved a hooded coat onto his shoulders, and hissed directions into his ears.
“Why?” he asked the guards, knowing his question sounded ungrateful. But Koda of Ennai was a monk of little to no importance. He'd traveled to the grand city of Taishu to scour the famed library, searching for sacred texts their temple had lost in last year’s fire. They had instructed him to copy and bind the books before returning, bringing the knowledge back to his brothers in meticulous handwriting and fresh ink.
Invigorated by his task and his purpose, Koda had arrived with starry-eyed wonder and awe, frozen by the breathtaking heights of the buildings, the hundreds of smells, the streams of pedestrians, and the myriad lanterns dotting the streets like rogue stars.
At first it had been a magnificent dream. Now it was an inescapable nightmare.
“Why?” he repeated. The guards didn’t answer. Either they were too scared, or they didn’t know themselves. They frog-marched a confused Koda through the shadowed back alleys of Taishu, dumping him onto a wagon. As they concealed him, they instructed him to get off and head west at the next town. Then they disappeared.
Koda did as he was told. Alone and lost, he settled in among the bags of grain and trembled as he counted the slow-moving stars.
Once the wagon rolled to a stop, the driver went to show his credentials to the city guard. Koda wriggled out of the sacks, being certain to leave behind three coppers before he scampered into the night.
Koda breathed warmth into his fists as he walked west, his breath clouding into mist before him. The stars pierced the darkness of night, guiding his way through the trees. He shivered beneath his robes, drawing his arms around himself, but even as he cursed the chill, a rosy pink kissed the sky along the horizon, promising warmth with the dawn.
Even as the first morning rays warmed him, the path was difficult. Hard rain had hit the forests along the west, muddying the meandering road he trudged along. His boots squelched in the wet earth and his ankles turned twice, but his own misfortunes dwindled into nothing as he saw another traveler along the way.
Koda gasped as he spotted the muddied young woman beside the road, a despairing expression fixed on the little of her face he could see. Yelping, he hid behind a well-placed shrub, his exhausted, illogical mind fearing recognition.
It was then that altruism, a permanent fixture of the inner workings of his mind and spirit, won over. No matter that his last good deed had nearly got him beheaded, Koda bravely emerged from his hiding spot. With slow, soft motions, he approached the woman and piped out a greeting.
He grimaced at the rasp that came out. Koda hoped his appearance wasn’t too horrifying, either. His face must look paler than usual, three days of little sleep and less food making his eyes too wide. His hair, normally shaved close to the skin, was a strange silver-white fuzz beneath the hood of his coat, and he knew he desperately needed a bath.
“May I help you?” he asked, holding out his palms in what he hoped communicated peaceful intentions. After taking inventory of his gifted knapsack, he knew he had a knife, a wicked-sharp thing with a bone-white hilt, but he wouldn’t use it on the woman. Koda hadn’t learned to fight. He didn’t even eat meat, so its use was limited in his hands.
Still, perhaps it was best not to mention it.
“It would be my honor,” Koda added with a shy smile, a tired phrase that still rang true amid his own despair. He showed her the contents of his knapsack, fit to bursting with food.
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