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Prelude

In the world of Bob

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Prelude

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The old man dropped into a chair on the porch in the cool morning light.  Despite the pain deep in his hip from age and a lifetime of farmwork, he still spoke a quiet prayer of thanks to the gods for a beautiful sunrise.

"Granpa?"

"Hmmf," grumped the man.  It was too early to deal with young ones and questions.  A man deserved a few moments of peace in the mornings.

"Granpa, do you want some tea? Mama's making the water," came a small voice from a head full of curly and unkempt hair that poked out of the doorway.

"Boy, ain't you supposed to be in the south field working?"  He picked up a small knife and some wood.

"Yes, sir.  But I thought maybe you'd want some tea before I go down there."

The grandfather finally turned his head to stare at the boy.  He looked too much like his grandmother, the old man thought.  That's why I give him so much leash to misbehave.  I should be tougher on him.  The world ain't gonna go so easy on him.  Not by a long shot.  "I don't reckon you thought that maybe if you brought me some tea you might spend some time watching me whittle and hear a story, now did you?" he asked with a raised, gray, and bushy eyebrow.

The boy just smiled.  Wide.

The grandfather sighed as he began stripping the bark from the wood in his hand.  He didn't have much strength left after falling ill in the previous year, but he could still use his hands to help around the farm where he could.  And stories.  Stories are important, he knew. 

Quietly, he said, "You fetch that tea right quick, then sit your britches down and keep quiet.  If you do that, then maybe I'll tell Papa not to tan your hide for slouching off work." 

The boy did as he was told.  His siblings would be mad that he got to hear a story without them, but he would share it as best he could when they were all sent to bed later that night.  He placed the hot mug next to his grandfather and sat in the chair next to him.  He knew not to make a sound and let grandpa start when he was ready.  Asking him to start a story was the right way to get no story and a grumpy grandpa.

 

 

"A long time ago, a group of bad mages got together and decided they knew better than other people, and thought they should be in charge of the world."

"What's a mage, grandpa?" asked the boy with instant regret when the man's left eyebrow raised.  "Sorry, grandpa," he apologized.

"Wizards, boy.  When a fancy wizard starts ta think that maybe they got the power of a god, they start callin' themselves 'Mage', as if a title means anything.  And don't apologize for asking a question that makes sense.  Ain't no shame in not knowing something.  A man's shame lay in not learning what he don't know, you hear?"

"Yes, sir."

"What the hells was I talking about?" he mused.  "Right, so this group of mages who thought they should be in charge, they form a gang and they call themselves 'The Eyes of ' @sha.

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