The Etra Anthology

115th of Nemulum, 315 EA

Peyr Myarsa

“Listen, and listen close now, Matij,” Ruzica spoke in warmth from wisdom, and felt the unequivocal attention of their grandson levied onto her words. “We are conservators, that is our role in this world, and it is quite the precious thing that we are meant to conserve.”

“Wha is it?” Matij pushed themselves up from from sitting to a bend using both of their hands, and then straightened their back up to a wobbled standing.

“What a very good question!” Ruzica leaned down to Matij’s level, giving her hands for the boy to grab and steady himself. She smiled and he smiled back, encouraged. “You’re lucky that your old ma-ma has seen so much, that she can tell you about these things. We conserve Old Myarsa.”

“Wassit?” Matij’s eyes were wide, wider than Ruzica could remember ever having seen on a child.

“Well, There is not much left of it within our reach, not much at all. Most of it has fallen below the swamp. But, before all that, before Peyr and before it really even needed to be conserved, Old Myarsa was a glorious city. Every inch of land was a part of it, the whole of the swamp. So powerful was it, it even managed to creep into the shallow edges of the aether, if you can believe such a thing!” Tales such as these flowed through Ruzica, her pitch modulating from the hush of sharing a secret to a finely crafted reverence. “It was a place made of stone, large and steady, and of iron without rust. Iron is important, quite important young one. The iron of Old Myarsa graces our conservator’s axes, to help us beat back the swamp demons!”

Ruzica lunged forward theatrically, stomping around in mockery of the monsters outside the city as Matij squealed in delight and terror. 

“Mother!” Khordan’s voice came from behind, startling the two of them out of their play. “Don’t tell such awful stories. We’ll never get to bed if you fill his thoughts with axes and demons.”

Ruzica’s brow furrowed as Matij grew quiet and toddled over to his father. “It is no thing to shirk from, don’t you think the boy should know why we keep the iron?”

“I just think there’s a softer way to explain it for him.” Khordan lifted Matij up onto his hip.

“It’s the way of the world, son!” Ruzica was speaking more ramblingly now. “We do what we must to reach the holy temples unharmed. And one day, when Old Myarsa has been dredged up and the muck is no more, we will lay down those axes and return their iron to it’s proper place.”

Khordan bounced Matij up and down as they spoke. “Yes, mother, I know the stories. I know that they’re important to you. I just think that it’s not a trouble worth giving him. 

“He’s young!” Ruzica intoned with great force, “He needs to know why we do the things we do. The stories teach him. If not that, how will he live? How will he live well?”

“Mother. Listen to me.” Khordan gave an exasperated breath, “We go to temple. We listen to the word of the high abbots. We work for the good of Peyr. We’re doing everything right. He’s being raised in a good family, he’s going to be devout. There’s no doubt about it in my mind, so all I can think when you share these things is, why burden him?”

“Well, I don’t know about all of that.” Ruzica huffed, feeling as though she had suddenly been put quite in her dotage.

“Just cool it with the demon talk, that’s all I ask.” Khordan turned to walk out from the room. As he did, Matij crawled up over his shoulder, keeping those wide wide eyes on his grandmother the whole time he was walked away.