The old woman began her four meter journey from the post she was leaning against to the seat at the front of the kids. Each step came with a jerk, a pop, and a shuffle. One of the fathers from the back walked up to help her, but before he could grab her arm she turned her head with an exaggerated scowl.

“Son, I appreciate the offer, but I have walked myself across three kingdoms, for more than one hundred winters,” she scolded. “I may be getting weaker, my sword arm ain’t what it used to be, but I think I can take these final few steps to a stool without any assistance.”

He backed away slowly, holding his hands up comically to show his open empty hands. A smile on his face to see the spry attitude aimed in his direction. Some giggles were heard stifled by the younger students, while some of the parents were in the back laughing.

She reached the stool and, with a sure fall, fell back on to the seat without confirming the location, trusting that it was where she believed it to be. She took a second to adjust for comfort, and with a quiet stare, scanned the faces looking back at her. She folded her hands on her lap, but before she could speak decided instead to point, not at anyone in particular, but to everyone listening.

She squinted and spoke softly, but firm, “Who can tell me what led to the Here-After?”

A few kids raised their hands. One young girl nearly lost her arm, shooting it up with such excitement, and continued to hold it high and tight, wiggling it sporadically to catch the attention of the old woman.

“No one?” the old woman kidded.

The hands in the air all shook; the enthusiastic girl’s arm waved with such effort the presenter could almost feel a waft of air.

She pointed to a little shirtless boy near the middle of the pack whose hand was raised, but calm.

“Wars,” he said timidly.

“True,” she responded. She pointed to another boy who wore glasses in the back.

“Wars,” he said, echoing the first boy. The girl’s arm now waved in a circle, believing that maybe the old woman did not see her.

“Yes, we already established that,” she said calmly, then pointing to a young girl with a pony-tail in the front.

“Food. I mean...” the pony tailed girl answered, but felt the need to clarify, “there wasn’t any... food.”

“Also true,” the old woman acknowledged, while the excited girl decided that maybe she was being too coy and decided to stand to get her attention. The old woman continued, “Anyone else?”

“The entire-ment,” a lispy young boy volunteered next to pony-tail.

“The environment?” the old woman clarified. Lispy nodded. She nodded and smiled at him.

“Wars,” some unseen timid voice from the back shouted.

“Yes, wars, got it.”

“People got sick,” said a young girl sitting facing the wrong way on the ground next to the girl who was now jumping up and down, waving both arms and saying, “Oo, Oo!.”

“Lots of people, this is true,” she told the class. “But, gosh are there more?” she wondered out loud to egg on some more answers. She looked past the little girl who was now on the verge of a seizure, looking for someone else to answer that wasn’t there.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there,” pointing at the now exhausted excited girl.

Her exhaustion didn’t stop her from rattling off her answer in a single breath, “The destruction that led to the Here-After was caused by many things. A multi-year famine that caused the smaller lands to die out quickly. Natural disasters that reshaped huge land masses, toppled mountains, and sunk whole colonies. Wars, from those left over. Godlessness, with moral deg-rah... deg-rah... uh, falling apart-ness, kings who split their countrymen into two and made them fight each other, and plagues that would leave some villages unscathed and others utterly decimated.”

She took a deep breath and stood there with her hands behind her back with a smug look plastered on her face. She swayed back and forth soaking in the perceived praise from the old woman and those around her.

“Very... um... detailed. Your teacher must be so proud,” the old woman’s pretend praise was almost palatable. The little girl didn’t notice the tone, or cared, and continued to smile and look around for any sign of approval.

The old woman’s voice then rose, with bold and assured words she continued, “Technically right, young one.” She then spoke to the group, looking over them all, “But not ‘right’ enough.”

The large smile on the girl’s face dropped quickly to a frown, and her excited swaying stopped. She looked at the old woman, nearly in tears, trying to stifle sniffling sounds she didn’t want anyone to hear.

After they locked eye contact the tears stopped, but the frown remained. A nod from the old woman suggested to the girl to sit, to which she did, slowly, shrinking in stature, the self-inflation popped.

“You understand what has been told and retold, and that is good to know little one. But, while that is all true, it is a shadow cast by a cloud. A dark shade caused by something greater. Truth is far greater a thing than the byproduct it produces,” her voice was clear and firm. The audience was quiet. It seemed as if even nature had silenced itself to give this elder her stage.

She continued, “The truth is a deep, but narrow pool. You can dip your toe in and feel the coolness of it, understanding as you all do, but the source of the water is a much more important thing to understand. It requires more than the toe, you can reach in, up to your shoulder, understanding the mechanics behind the world’s wheels turning, but like I said, it is deep, much deeper still. Truth requires the whole body, because when you jump in to find the source, you have to follow it to the fount or drown in ignorance.”

Around the class, the kids slowed their bodies, not fidgeting like they normally did with their day-to-day teachers. The child that was turned around corrected herself and joined her classmates watching and listening to the old woman. The parents around the classroom, who could be enjoying some of the more mature activities of the Last Shot celebration, stood transfixed.

“Great battles, starvation, contentious leaders, the great illness, putting aside The One, and the shaking of the pillars of the world – all these things, terrible and awesome events. Each one, in its own right, life-changing experiences. Each one, able to transform the landscape of any one person’s life, even a village, or a kingdom, but nothing that can’t be recovered from.”

She paused, but only briefly. Her travels must be worth the effort, each achy bone earned. She lived a long enough life and seen enough of the kingdoms to solidify her knowledge and beliefs. She massaged her left forearm , old scars hidden by the sleeves of her gown were slightly uncomfortable and she wanted the feeling gone, distracting her from the message.

“When a crop fails, when the hunt rewards no meat, when a child catches the heat, what does a village do?” She didn’t wait for an answer, notating the acknowledgment from the group of her rhetorical question, “They rally together and weather the storm. Neighbor helps neighbor, the villager with increase gives to the villager that has lack.”

“The same should have been for the There-before. If the people would have cared for the sick the illness would have passed. Some would have died yes, as is the way of illness, but many more would have survived. If their countrymen that had put aside The Holy One was minute, and their voice quieted by reason and truth then they wouldn’t have abandoned The Path and opened up the way to redemption for those that had strayed,” she proclaimed to the slight nods of understanding from both kids and adults. Their wanting composure urged the old woman to continue. “If the people of the There-Before would have shored up their defenses, walled their citizens and stood steadfast, they would not have fallen. If the citizens rejected the contentious prodding from their mayors and kings, not falling for lies and manipulations that aimed to foster power for themselves, then new politicos would have risen up and corrected the wrongs. If food and scarcity reigned, and each neighbor broke some bread for a neighbor, then the season of hunger would have been but a moment. And even, if nature itself pressed against a city, but the citizens prepared, adapted, strengthened what needed to be strengthened, or sadly, abandoned what should fall, they would have survived.

“The truth is deep, and the answers, sometimes simple. The There-Before fell due to nihilistic ideals.”

She had baited them long enough. Every unblinking eye was fixated on her. Her voice quieted, inclining every ear forward, “The truth is both sad, yet encouraging. To hear it, is to know the mistakes and the challenges, to see with the clearest view something that no one can dispute with a clear head. It must be muddied to be ignored, to one’s own detriment. But, more importantly, to those that take the truth, hold it, and treasure it, they can change the future, build empires, and raze mountains.”

The motions that followed her wisdom went beyond the strength of her body. She shook as she grasped into the air as if her words had manifested before her. She did not hesitate any longer to pass on the enlightenment that came from her many years, “You just have to be willing to dive in head first, and follow the truth where it leads you. Even when that truth destroys everything you once perceived to be true. To face that pain headfirst, drowning in what it means, but... breathing free for the first time.

“The idea that brought down countries, that reshaped us to the Here-After, that burned the old ways and left only a remnant, was to think of one’s self above all others.”

The weight of each word fell heavy upon each ear. The oldest of the village had the knowledge that selfishness was a battle each human would face. No one was immune, not one, save for the Offspring Himself. Each would fight that inner daemon that whispered lies and sweet things into their heads telling them that, “they were the most important person, all others are secondary.”

The youngest were told to be kind, to share, but they fought that same hill daily. Many failed, seeking only their own personal joy. They had to be taught to be a provider to the village by their parents and grandparents, and seeing the sacrifice demonstrated in their action. Yet, with that youth, came an innate sense of justice, of honesty and compassion. The laws of The One, instilled in the womb, carried always. Each soul, a battleground of self versus selflessness.

Her face darkened as she further discussed how the world burned, “They cared not for mouths of their neighbors, hoarding bread and meat, the fat watching the lean suffer. They only looked at the safety and well-being of “me, and I.” They pushed and threw aside each other to bitter ends, striving to make even tiny steps forward in pursuit for themselves. Their paths greater than The Path of The Almighty One, their laws and desires are king, and His are dust.”

The three paladins hung their heads low, as did many of those listening including a few children; each one in silent prayer. What each one prayed about, only they and The One knew. For the paladin brothers though, each had come to know what the others often prayed for. Solomon’s prayers leaned toward direction and discernment. Gideon’s was strength, always strength, and Benjamin requested wisdom and ingenuity. Each held those appeals to lead a life that would keep at bay that which once brought the world so low; and to honor their father and mother.

“They dropped their spears,” she continued past the barely perceivable moment for silence she let hang, “and tossed away their shields, putting their life and future in the hands of their enemies at the expense of their commanders, their cities, their family, even their children. To them it was better to live in bondage and chains, as the last of their line, than to protect what they should have been holding so dear.”

“‘Self’ destroyed the world. I need that. I deserve that. I feel that. I know that. I don’t like that. I must be safe. I am the most important...” The old woman’s list of “I”s continued. One “I” or another would speak to each person there. But, that was partially her point. It was not a condemnation, but a warning.

She looked around. Stillness hung over them. The air felt like it had escaped, and no one dared let go of what they were holding in their lungs. She would try to lighten the mood, starting with a smile, then continuing, “I did say that truth was encouraging, didn’t I? So breathe youngins, breathe; for we have yet to talk about the Four Kingdoms and their lieges.”

The crowd loosened up. Their stone faces showing life for the first time in what seemed like ages, a few smiles and laughs could be heard. The brothers looked around to see if this meant some sort of intermission, or should they stick around for the end.

Benjamin pulled out a medium sized notebook from his coat and began furiously writing. Solomon watched the crowd meander, his mind lost in introspection. Gideon, on the other hand, took the moment to see if there was anything to drink. Seeing a bucket a few steps away surrounded by villagers, ladling out some sips from gave him his answers, but before he could head that way, the old woman clapped her hands twice, catching the ear of everyone. The sound of which was louder than seemed possible from her ancient body.

How leathery are those paws? thought Gideon.

“The Four Kingdoms,” she started, waiting for the full attention to be restored, “The Four Kingdoms were not always as great as they are today. It wasn’t from the foundation of the Here-After that they were as vast as they are now. Their reach barely spanned a tree line, let alone mountain ranges, dense forests, and great plains, as the world began to heal. Those mighty kingdoms started with The Great Ideal. They shed the last visage of the world that came before and spawned from it what was needed, a real community.

“The Four Kings were not great men before the world was shaken, but they became great men due to all separately concluding that they could not survive forever on their own, nor could those men and women they crossed paths with, either. They pulled together survivors, pooled their resources, leaving destroyed comforts and old joys for a land that was foreign, but where they could establish a new cornerstone.

“Each future king led small numbers, maybe a few families or individuals a piece, and laid a foundation leading to the great empires you see and hear about today. And, while each differed on many principles and methods, the primary common theme they all share is ‘everyone contributes.’

“The First Kingdom,” she paused as everyone cheered – local pride being what it is. “The First Kingdom was, as the name implies, the first to establish themselves, sending envoys throughout their territory to set up the principles that the kingdom was to live by. Each town was to run itself. Sheriffs would be placed to keep the peace in towns that couldn’t provide one. The First King was smart enough to know that their domain was spread out too far to try and rule fully from their capitol. Each town, each city, even smaller empires are allowed to be their own as long as they follow the kingdom’s core principles.

“The Second Kingdom was set up likewise, though most of the domain was seafaring and shoresides. They are waterbound warriors, with the only navy known to exist. They are also explorers of the metal islands off the coast.

“The Third Kingdom followed suit, choosing to flourish the fertile south butting up against the vast Western Desert. They became scholars and holders of the Great Librarium. You may have been visited by one of the tome keepers or acolytes.

“And finally the Fourth Kingdom residing up in the northwestern mountains, great miners and craftsmen. They alone venture into the frozen north seeking the resources it hides.”

Each kingdom the old woman described could be discussed for days or weeks even – choosing only to highlight the most surface level of knowledge. She really didn’t care to talk about the kingdom details the towns daily teachers could share – for her, the goal was to get the important bit out – how they govern. She had seen a good handful of upstarts that thought they could do better, but always failing the core ideals that allowed these kingdoms to flourish.

She contemplated for a moment, Maybe a warning was necessary.

“Now some of you may think to be the Fifth King. Mayhaps? Fair warning my little ones, many have tried. Thinking the Great Ideal to be imperfect, or that it can be enhanced, honed, or reconfigured.” Her tone was serious, but light. The Old woman added a slight mocking tone to sound like a nasally and annoying ‘king-wanna-be’ and getting more and more animated as the details emerged, “‘If we expect everyone to contribute then I will just MAKE everyone contribute. You want to build? Nope! You build what I tell you to build. You want to learn? No! I tell you what I want you to learn. You want freedom? Nada! I grant you what I think you deserve. And laws, oh yes laws, that can change at my whim. It will be glorious! Gwwwahhhahhhahhhaaaa!’”

The kids nearly fell over laughing. A few parents chuckled heartily at the little play. The old woman admired her handiwork allowing the brevity to take hold. She had spoken to many ears throughout her life, some terrified of every shadow that crossed their path, others more foolhardy – ready to run into danger they barely understood. She learned to read expressions rather well over the thousands of faces. She’d see every tick or eye dart that spoke volumes of their bearer, more than words ever could. While it’s harder with a crowd, it’s not impossible to see a general belief, understanding, or concern among them all. Citizens from the same village have a tendency to display similar broad mannerisms and patterns leading to very similar reactions to new information.

Seeing the right moment to move on she continued, “The Four Kingdoms had something to the Great Ideal, though unintended it was, that made it work; their citizen’s true desire to be part of their communities. They, each one individually, had to make the commitment to work for the good of, not only themselves, but their neighbors.

“Forced compliance takes away from a person’s freedom to make choices. Freedom was necessary, because when it is stripped, no matter how comfortable the chains, humans innately rebel. A land that rules its people by force leads to the Dark Stillwater.” Smiles quickly faded. For those that have heard of the Dark Stillwater, know it as a warning to those would-be dictators.

The old woman sat in silence. The minds of those around quivered with thoughts of the city, whose supposed name is used as a curse, and is rarely spoken aloud. It is known to most as the Dark Stillwater, a city of grand ambition brought low by a Fifth King hopeful. The son of the city’s former mayor, took hold and saw great things for himself, but he fell to his own desire for power, and the subjects that rose up against him. His rules and laws took root and in a matter of a few years the lush and beautiful land turned to ruin and decay.

The good men and women that could, fled for the wilderness, or one of The Four Capitals. Others, who had stayed, turned to lawlessness, and other more sinister practices to survive. Many died to starvation or crime. Others tried to keep their heads down or catch the eye of the sheriff or his deputies, themselves little more than thugs, wielding the law as they saw fit, inconsistent, and for their own gain.

The actual event that transpired that led to the city’s end has been debated over the years. Though those curious about its demise can only speculate, because only one truth is known for sure. Once that catalyst was triggered, none survived.

The son of the mayor was the first to die. The citizenry tore down the statues he erected of himself, and if rumor is to be believed, buried him alive under the heavy stone chunks. Rioting and looting began. Fires broke out and the city's walls, that had been reinforced because of the lies the would-be-king spouted about entrenched enemies at their gate, became its coffin walls.

No one survived, or at least none that talk about it. Anything that is known is wild assumptions with support only by similar stories by other travelers that have seen the great black land at the edge of a dead lake. There is an unspoken rule, or in some towns spoken, to never talk about where Dark Stillwater resides. And to give it a wide berth if ever wandered upon. Stories can be told, but only in whispers in the more seedier of places, or at campfires to scare children.

The brothers knew this, the townsfolk knew this, and the children that didn’t would be asking their parents about it tonight.

The old woman’s eyes had grown weary, helping her decide to come to an end of her keynote. Her mouth was beyond dry, but her soul was happy to have shared her wisdom with the many youngins that came. Applause from the children was over quickly – scattering to get back to games and more active things to do. She creaked from the front of the classroom to wander to the side quicker than her age dictated. Benjamin wandered up to her with his pointer finger up, about to speak, but was quickly silenced by a dismissive hand she flashed.

She didn’t turn toward him, instead wandered past two buildings to the forest just beyond it, “Look knight, I have been talking far longer than a woman with my bladder should. Unless someone is killing ya’, and even so, you handle it... otherwise I’m going to take a pisser.”

Solomon wandered up to Benjamin, who had paused outside the alley. The old woman shuffled down, putting his arm around him, smiling, “Lovely woman; the pinnacle of femininity.”

Gideon strode up to his brothers with a mug under his forearm holding nuts and chowing down.

“Where’d she go?” he asked, spitting out bits of nuts as he spoke.

“Making water,” Benjamin said, still aghast.

“Piss, she’s off there, pissing,” Solomon corrected with a smirk.

“Ah,” Gideon said. “Why are you both looking that way then?”

Solomon and Benjamin turned away from the alley embarrassed.