The Watchman - A Children's Fable

By: Troje Posted on: August 30, 2009

Takitos had been bored for a long time. Ever since he had managed to get a position as an apprentice for the Cyrene High Watch, which he had aspired to since the early days of his youth, his life had taken a turn for the mundane. While his tasks as a Watchman were certainly noble in purpose and took up a great deal of his daily routine, Takitos knew that all of his training was purely busywork and ceremony; no discernible threat had made its way to Cyrene for the better part of its existence, thanks largely to the secrecy and self-sufficiency of the city. Still, he woke up every morning and proudly donned the bright blue and gold tunic of the Watch before making sure his scabbard was well oiled and what runes he was permitted to sketch were done just right, as to avoid any complications.

This particular morning, as Takitos finished his preparations and began to make his rounds, he felt particularly gloomy. The High Watch required an act of bravery and nobility for one to be promoted from an apprentice to a full watchman. Takitos had only this requirement left to complete, and a city nearly devoid of troubles requiring bravery OR nobility he was certain that he would never achieve his promotion. As he dutifully walked the streets in what dawn's light was available, he thoroughly pondered what path his life would take him down given this dilemma. The more he dwelled on the possibility of being stuck as an apprentice or worse, kicked out of the Watch altogether, he came upon a building already bustling with activity even in such early hours. His eyes moved up the structure as his ears struggled to catch individual noises coming from the din, and he noticed a carved sign hanging just above the entrance, bearing the image of an animal horn. Without realizing that his daydreaming had taken him far off the course of his rounds and into the sidestreets, Takitos now stood gaping at the noise and smell coming from the Ram's Horn Bar.

With a firm shake of his head, Takitos struggled only briefly to regain his sense of direction within the city. He had only spent seconds attempting to plot the fastest route back to his rounds when a staggering drunk knocked into him with full force, nearly sending the two of them sprawling. It was only the years spent training to fight an unlikely battle that saw Takitos keep his balance, and save the stumbling man from falling as well.

"Who's there!" Cried the drunk, his eyes half closed and his step still uneven. Takitos had to hold his breath to keep the stench from incapacitating him, and only when he could manage to keep the man at arm's length could he inhale safely.

"I am Takitos Turnitas, Squire of the Watch." Takitos' reply was measured carefully as his mood had fallen further than before.

The drunk man seemed to note the sadness in the voice of the shapeless body he was collapsed against, and tried his best to stand himself up straight. After the third attempt, and still shaking enough that Takitos kept a hand nearby in case the man fell, he spoke again.

"Tackytoss Turniptaste, hrm? A squire, hrm? The Watch doeshn't normally walk the sideshtreets unless La*hic*nce asks them too." He squinted sharply and then opened his eyes as wide as he could manage in an attempt to appraise Takitos although comically, his eyes didn't particularly move much with either action. "You down *hic* here on business, Turkeylace?"

Takitos shrugged, but then realized the man wasn't paying him enough attention to notice. "I got distracted, is all."

The drunk, a little more stable on his feet nodded, and then nodded again before simply stumbling away from the confused watchman. Takitos could hear the man muttering something about 'almsh' before he tripped over something unseen and landed in a heap of mud near the eastern end of the Bar. He considered reigning in the act of blatant intoxication as his attempted act of nobility, but he did not like the prospect of explaining what he was doing out of his assigned patrol and liked the idea of hauling the smelly drunk into the Watchtower even less. Besides, the proper response to the appearance of the drunkard would be to escort him home or a place to rest. There was no proper reason for arresting such a harmless old man, Takitos knew, and trying to cheat the advancement tasks would only have him thrown out of the Watch. Giving a hefty sigh, he adjusted his sword-belt slightly and took what he had planned as the fastest route back to his patrol.

As he rushed along through the side-streets back towards the Artisan Plaza, the glum mood that had hovered over him for the better part of the morning seemed to slowly dissolve. Perhaps the road to advancement wasn't the most important thing, although it was certainly his life goal to walk among the Watchtower as a High Watchman. Perhaps his dedication was more important than the recognition of that dedication. He loved the city of Cyrene and all it had offered him throughout his life, and he thought the best way to repay those offerings was through devotion to the ideals and defence of those exact offerings. He would return to the Watchtower and return to his routine, because it was his routine that showed true nobility.

Those and other valiant thoughts going through the head of Takitos, now running toward the Watchtower with a bright grin on his face, came to a resounding halt as a very noticeable chill took the air. While he was no master of the arcane arts, he held strong doubts that a mage could alter the weather so quickly with such drastic effects. His running slowed and then stopped near the western edge of the fountain, and his hand went to his sword as he spun a half circle to observe his surroundings. What other few denizens occupied the Plaza had noticed something odd as well, and were glancing suspiciously around themselves when a scream tore through the morning air. A young girl who had moments earlier been sheltered by her parents as they searched out the immediate source of the cold, tore through the Plaza toward the nearest building screaming at the top of her voice. She knocked into Takitos and the collision forced his gaze skyward for a fraction of a second.

His well trained eyes caught sight of it at once, a menacing form that circled the skies directly above the Plaza, a stream of magical cold erupting from its maw at regular intervals. As soon as Takitos spotted what could only have been a mythical dragon, the dragon Ainghaeal spotted the girl and began to plummet out of the sky toward her. The girl would not escape without help, and Takitos had sworn an oath to protect the citizens of Cyrene from all dangers (even dragons), so he quickly drew his sword and appraised the situation. The dragon was flying in a straight line, roaring and swiping its claws, oblivious to anything but its first meal. Patiently waiting for the opportune moment, Takitos brushed a hand along his runes and bathed in the warm glow of the magic that ran through him. As the dragon drew even closer, and the seconds stretched on for what seemed like years, the young watchman clambered up the base of the fountain and tensed his muscles for a leap to intercept the massive dragon on its path.

As the beast began to pass over the top of the fountain, Takitos launched himself into the air. Every muscle in his body bulged with the force of effort and the power of magic behind them as he raised his sword high above his head in the beginning of a mighty slash against the oncoming creature.

Without so much as a loss in speed, Ainghaeal opened its maw and consumed the brave Takitos in one brief swallow. The noble watchman was no more, and the mighty dragon began a war against Cyrene.

Moral of the story: It is not outward achievement that brings happiness, but strength of character and personal belief.