Wakfu - The Companions ch. 01

"Why hello, stranger!  Pleasure to make your acquaintance.  Hmm?  Y-yes!  Yes, I am Cypress.  ...yes, I am he... Heh, my story?  That's a rather unusual request.  No, I am not at all opposed; it's just rare I'm asked to tell that tale.  Because you see, it is not just my story.  I am a part of it, but it is about so many more than just myself.  It is our story, the tale of the Companions.  So, it'd be rather selfish to call it just my story.  It does however, begin with me and the day I left home..."



"Cypress?  Cypress."

The young Sadida man waved a hand impatiently, as though trying to shake off some irritating insect.  He had to finish copying down the map while he could, and he didn't want to make any mistakes, especially considering the map's age made it hard to read already.  Gods have mercy on him, why didn't he have anything big enough to copy the details onto?  Trying to copy the old map was hard enough, but having to copy it in pieces…

"CYPRESS!"

He jumped, a guilty hunch to his shoulders as the foliage on his face flushed darkly.  Slowly he peered back over his shoulder, expecting the worst.  He recognized with some relief his cousin Ayricah as she put her hands on her hips and glared at him, tapping a foot impatiently.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?" She demanded, shifting her gaze to give the map a pointed look.  Cypress glanced down, following her gaze and hastening to shift his copies out of view.

"It's," he stammered slightly, gnawing his lower lip, "it's n-not what you think.  It's not what it looks like, I swear—"

"Really?" His cousin cut him off, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows.  "Because it looks to me like you're trying to make a copy of Dad's map and you were hoping you wouldn't get caught."

Cypress half-turned to her as he took a deep breath, raising his hands a bit better to express himself.  His heart had sped up and a slight sweat was breaking out on his forehead.  He was really in for it now, so there was no denying Ayricah's accusation.

"Okay..." He said slowly with a bit of a wince.  "Maybe it's exactly what it looks like."

There was silence and he risked a quick peek at her.  Ayricah was still glaring at him, clearly unamused and more than a little suspicious.  To make matters worse, a couple of her dolls were sitting on her shoulders and mirroring her expression.  Cypress shrank back under the force of the combined glares.  His cousin made him as nervous as the threat of his uncle and his parents finding out.  For a short while she stayed quiet and Cypress imagined he could see wheels like Xelor cogs turning in her head as she thought.

"What's it for?  Why do you want a copy of the map?" She finally inquired.  Cypress chewed his lip again as he glanced away and weighed his options.  He wasn't exactly ready to admit it to anyone, but if Ayricah went to the parents then he would have no choice regardless.

I may as well get it over with, he told himself.  The sooner the better, I guess…

"Because I want to leave and go travel." He finally blurted the words out, still avoiding eye contact.  As a bit of an afterthought, he added, "By myself, alone."

"Why?" Her tone made it clear she thought he was being ludicrous.  The younger Sadida gave a nervous fidget and clasped his hands before him, lowering his head as his cheeks flushed even brighter.

"I want to be a bard." He murmured.

There was a small silence before his cousin laughed unkindly.

"A bard?" She scoffed.  "You?"

Cypress lowered his head further as he studied his feet.  This was why he hadn't wanted to say anything.

"Oh, this is too rich!" Ayricah chortled when she realized he was being completely sincere.  "You of all people, a bard!  Just wait until Dad and your parents hear how badly you've deluded yourself!"

Still laughing cruelly, she spun and strode out of the study, and Cypress hastened to follow her.  He would not have preferred his family to find out like this, but it was still better to go willingly and confirm Ayricah's accusations than to wait and be confronted.  He kept his gaze lowered and jumped when one of Ayricah's dolls ran past him.  With a sinking feeling he realized the doll was toting his map copies in its stubby little arms.  He might as will kiss the precious copies he had worked so hard on goodbye forever.

His cousin strode triumphantly to the main family room and he followed, hanging back a little as Ayricah came to a halt before the elder Sadidas and drew herself up importantly.

"Yes, dear?" Cypress's uncle asked, looking both surprised and curious.  "What is it?"

The doll hurried forward and as all three parents present watched, it held out the copies Cypress had so desperately tried to make.  Three pairs of eyes widened as his uncle took the  marked parchments and began to glance over them.  His brow furrowed and after a moment he passed the copies to Cypress's parents, who leaned in to get a better look.  Cypress gulped and Ayricah took advantage of his signs of unease to say her piece.

"Cypress is copying your old map because he thinks he's just going to go off on his own and travel the World, and—" she turned and sneered at her younger cousin, evidently savoring the moment, "become a bard."

At this, Cypress's mother looked up sharply.

"Is this true?" She asked, her keen gaze searching.

"Son?" Her husband said inquisitively.  Cypress lowered his head and nodded.

"Yes." He murmured, wishing he could sink into the floor and vanish from sight.  "It's true."

The silence that followed this proclamation stretched on for a long time, and Cypress had to fight to keep himself from trembling.

This is it then.  I might as well kiss my hopes and dreams goodbye now.  I wish they would just get it over with.  Ripping the thorn out fast won't hurt as long…

"When were you planning on saying something to us?" His mother asked, probably to stall for time while she and his father silently came to a consention.  He glanced up but didn't allow himself to meet anyone's eyes for more than a fleeting second as he shrugged.

"Probably whenever I finished the map." He confessed.

"Or more likely whenever he was on his way out the door to leave!" Ayricah snorted.  Cypress's shoulders hunched and his uncle shot Ayricah a fierce, quelling look.

"That's enough, daughter." He said sharply before turning to the youngest Sadida, his gaze softening.  "You could have asked to see my map at any time, nephew.  You know that, don't you?"

"Son." Cypress's father spoke again, his tone firm now.  "Why didn't you say anything to us?  Why didn't you come to us openly?  Were you worried we would be angry?"

"Yes... I didn't think you would approve..." he admitted with a tiny nod.  He wasn't entirely sure why he had always felt that, for his parents had rarely gotten angry with him since as far back as he could recall.  They were priests in the temple of Sadida however, and it had been long expected by the other Sadidas who were close to their family that young Cypress would follow in his parents' footsteps.  So what if his dreams weren't good enough?

"Sweetheart, why would we be mad at you?" His mother said kindly, getting to her feet and wrapping him in a warm hug.  "This is your dream; we knew one day you would discover your dream and pursue it."

"You did?" He asked, surprised.  "Y-you knew I wanted to be a bard??"

"Not quite so specific," his father said with a chuckle.  "But we have been praying to Sadida about this for quite some time, and he has given us peace about the journey you will undertake.  No, we're not mad at you, Cy, nor do we disapprove."

"I wish I'd been so sure of what I wanted to be at your age." His uncle remarked as he gathered up the copies of the map.  "As it stands, I do believe you have the rest of this to finish."

Cypress felt his jaw drop as he looked between all of the adults.  His map pieces were passed to him and his hands took them automatically.  Surely this had to be some kind of dream, some crazy dream.  Were they actually approving of his choice?  And not just approving, but supporting his desire to leave home and go traveling all over the World?!  His eyes stung and he blinked fiercely, fighting back tears of joy.

"You can't be serious!" Ayricah squawked.  "He only turned sixteen two months ago!  He's not old enough to go running around the World all by himself!"

He turned and shot her a look of utmost annoyance.  Yes he was young, but why should his age define what he could or couldn't do?  Thankfully Ayricah's father was more than ready with a response.

"You're not the parent here, darling." He said calmly, though the edge to his tone made it clear there would be no arguing.  "It's not your call to make.  Maybe one day if you have children of your own, it'll be different.  But don't begrudge your cousin his dream just because he's younger than you."

Cypress couldn't hold back a grateful smile, and a moment later he found his face being smushed affectionately by his mother.

"Ooh, my baby!  Getting ready to leave home and discover his place in the World!" She sounded somewhere between delighted and a bit worried.  "Finish copying that map and then we'll head home.  We've got some preparations to make!"



'Preparations' turned out to involve a lot of prayer to Sadida.  Of course there were practical preparations, too: a purse to be set aside with kamas counted out; a small pack with medicinal herbs, extra clothing, and an old compass loaned by his uncle; some food to take with him during the initial stretch; and a hefty blank journal to record his travels and compose his songs in.  But when the priest and priestess weren't helping their son to set aside and pack those things they were praying.  Cypress was mildly irritated by this.  He loved his god and he knew his parents were especially devout, given their life's work, but he didn't like feeling as though they regarded him to be especially fragile.

I shouldn't hold it against them, he reminded himself at one point.  I'm an only child.  They're going to worry about me, even if they're okay with me leaving home by myself.

It was a strangely sobering thought.

Then he blinked, and it hit him that he was standing at the border of the Sadida Kingdom, that it had already all passed in a blur.  And it was equally sobering to turn and look at his parents for what would be the last time for quite a while.  Bright, warm sunlight was lighting up the stretch of beach that marked the kingdom's border, and it cast the priest and priestess in a gentle glow.  They were watching him patiently, their smiles encouraging despite the mixed feelings warring in their eyes.  Cypress felt as though his heart had leaped into his throat and was obstructing his breathing.  He struggled to swallow as he looked from his parents to the stretch of beach and back again.  He was ready to go; he wanted to go... but there was a tiny, nagging seed of doubt in his heart.  Would he ever see his mother and father again?  Or would this be farewell forever?

As if sensing his worry, Cypress's father let out a soft, rolling chuckle, a familiar sound that had often soothed the young Sadida as a child.

"Don't fret about us, son.  We'll be alright, and you have other things to focus on now.  You'll see us again, I can promise you that." He said gently, and his wife's smile turned warm as she nodded.  Cypress finally swallowed over the knot in his throat and flung himself at them both, hugging them shamelessly.

"I love you both," he murmured as he pulled away, "I promise, I'll make you proud."

"We're already proud of you, my little love," his mother whispered.  "Go, find your dream, and don't give it up."

It took all of Cypress's self-control, but he managed to hold back his tears as he turned away and left the Sadida Kingdom for the first time in his life, ready to begin his journey.



He had not had any specific destination in mind when he began, and for a time, the adolescent would-be bard was content to simply wander from town to town, taking in all the strange new sights.  There were so many things he hadn't seen due to never having left home, and he drank up the chance to observe and learn as much as he could.  Most strangers he worked up the courage to talk to were friendly and helpful, despite being a little puzzled at the Sadida's eagerness to learn as much as he could.  But it wasn't until a week out from his departure that Cypress had a bad experience with a stranger.

He was feeling rather upbeat at the time, bolstered by the relative friendliness and kindness he had encountered up to that point, and an exciting thought occurred to him.  If he was to become a bard, he would need songs to sing, tales to tell and while he knew he would certainly learn many on his journey... wouldn't it be special and different, completely unique, if he were able to share his own experiences and stories as well?  It wasn't often bards did that.  And from there, another thought began to blossom.

I shouldn't just share the tales of my experience as a bard, he told himself, holding back a small gasp as he sipped at his glass of cawwot juice, I should share the actual experiences!  People all across the World go on adventures with traveling companions, don't they?  They always have some of the best stories to tell, and their journeys together are enriched because they're shared experiences.

It was an utterly exciting thought, and it opened up an even more amazing window of opportunity as Cypress realized the possibility awaiting him.  He needed traveling companions!  People, kindred spirits to share in his adventures!  It was the perfect idea!  All he needed to do now was find people who would be willing to accept him into their little circle.

He had already meandered away from the vendors and merchants after purchasing his refreshment, but the small outdoor market looked busy enough.  With any luck perhaps he would find someone to take up with by the end of the day.  In fact, he didn't have to go very far before he saw a Iop examining different swords being sold.  Sensing a potential chance, Cypress approached the man at what he hoped was a casual pace.

"Ah, excuse me?" He said politely, and the Iop gave him a curious look.  "Er, hello.  M-my name is Cypress, and I was wondering—"

"I don't want any." The stranger snapped.  Cypress flinched, taken aback by the unexpected sharpness.  What had he done wrong?  Surely he hadn't said anything offensive.

"Don't think I don't know what you're up to!" The warrior went on, leaning in uncomfortably close.  "You Sadidas really need to learn to just back off!  Not everyone cares about your stinkin' trees!"

"Wh-what?" Cypress whimpered, starting to tremble.  "What do you mean?  I-I don't—"

"Hey, Tökka!" A new voice jumped in, coming from somewhere behind them.  Cypress spun to see a Cra and an Eniripsa approaching, both of them fixing him with ugly looks.

"Oh, what a shock." The Eniripsa said dryly, flipping back some of his flyaway bangs.  "Another time-wasting Sadida.  Why don't you just crawl on back to your forest, country boy?"

The trembling got worse.  Cypress instinctively began to curl in on himself.  He glanced quickly at the merchant, hoping the gentleman might put a stop to the exchange, but he had no such luck.  The merchant simply watched with a cautious air, as though trying to gauge how the tension might affect his business.

"B-but... I..." Cypress's voice was starting to drop lower and lower, vanishing into a timid whisper.  He was shaking almost uncontrollably now, and his thoughts were starting to flee his mind out of fear.  He could hear the quiet voices of the plant life all around him, sensing his fear and offering to do something about it, offering to help him.  It was tempting to let go; it was very tempting.

"But-but what?" The Eniripsa scoffed. "Maybe you're not some stupid zealot, but just stupid.  But I guess we shouldn't be surprised; you're just a dirty, uneducated, sheltered, naive little Sadida."

The words cut deep.  Cypress’s chest tightened so painfully he couldn’t draw breath, and his eyes stung with hot, unshed tears.  His resistance collapsed and the plants responded, coming to his aid.  Brambles burst from the ground, curling in on themselves sinuously before snapping out and striking the three men, smacking them away from Cypress as one thought dominated his mind: Get out of my space, get away from me… Get out of my face, get away… get away, get away…

Yells broke out.  The merchant shot to his feet from his chair in alarm.  The confrontation had started turning a few heads but now the Sadida brambles had drawn far more attention.  Several people had turned in their direction to see what the commotion was, and already many were starting to whisper.  The sensation of so many disapproving stares washed over Cypress like icy water and for a moment he snapped back to his senses.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” He stammered, reaching out helplessly in either direction as he looked from the Iop to the Cra and the Eniripsa.

“Oh, you will be sorry!” The Cra growled in a gruff voice.  “We’re gonna make you sorry, you little freak!”

Somewhere beneath his rising panic there sparked a small, indignant anger that Cypress barely had time to register before his brambles responded again.  They thrashed, swiping wide and fast at the rapidly approaching threat, and several more onlookers began to shout and draw weapons.  A blade sliced through some of the brambles and a small shock of pain echoed in Cypress, sending him staggering backward.  This wasn’t good; he had to get out of there, and fast.  More hacking swipes aimed at his brambles but in seconds it didn’t matter; he had already summoned more thorny vines around his feet and they lifted him off the ground effortlessly.  Desperately he flung out a hand in a random direction and the brambles surged, rolling like waves as they carried him away from the small marketplace.

“Get back here!” The Eniripsa screamed, brandishing his wand angrily.  Cypress’s panic spiked and before he could really give consideration to the idea, his brambles flung him high into the air.

The World of Twelve spun over and over, the blue-and-white hues of the sky blurring with the green vortex of the grass.  His stomach felt like it was trying to migrate into his mouth and suddenly the ground was coming up at him fast.

Oh gods!  This was a really bad idea!

He spread his arms wide open and a net of brambles and soft moss sprang up beneath him to cushion his fall.  Regardless he still landed somewhat roughly, with a slight bounce on impact.  Even so he had little time to rest; the vines had only flung him so far and he was still within sight of the angry trio and the crowd, if only distantly.  Breathing hard, he scrambled to the ground, running for the distant line of trees that marked the edge of a forest.  A stitch burned painfully in the side of his ribs and as he ran, he wondered what in the World had happened, and why it had all gone so wrong.



Dusk began to fall.

Cypress was still anxiously alert, and constantly offering up thanks to his patron deity that he was a Sadida.  The three travelers who had taken issue with him had been combing the forest for a few hours, but the setting sun seemed to finally change their minds about searching for him.  There had been a few close calls, but he had stayed safely hidden from his pursuer as the forest responded to his presence, the trees masking him from danger.  Silently, he whispered thanks to Sadida once more, and to the forest as well.

The sun had fully set and the air became soothingly cool as the gentle darkness began to overtake the land.  The young would-be bard settled into the vast branches of an old tree, sighing as he leaned back against its trunk and finally released the tension in his body.  His muscles ached in protest and he felt weary and winded.  Without warning his hurt and confusion returned, and tears trickled out of his eyes.

What did I do wrong?  I didn’t mean any harm.

He thought upon the matter for a while, and after replaying the scenario in his mind multiple times he came to the conclusion that initially, he hadn’t really done anything wrong.  Perhaps when confronted by the hostility he could have stood up for himself, but how?  And in the end, hadn’t he acted out of self-defense?  No, he couldn’t see much other solutions for the instance.  But that wasn’t what hurt so much.

They had acted like he was either a nuisance or a Iop-brained, sheltered freak.  Worse still, they seemed to base it all on the fact he was a Sadida.  But why was that?

Tears poured down his cheeks, and as he silently cried himself to sleep, the only thought on his mind was one question.

What’s so wrong about being a Sadida…?



He awoke suddenly, his heart pounding.  It was still dark out, but the dampness of the air and the soft snatches of birdsong indicated it was early morning.  For a moment Cypress wondered where he was and what had happened, but the memory of the angry Iop and his friends returned in seconds and a spike of panic shot through him.  He was certain something had jolted him awake; could the three travelers have come back to the forest to search for him again?

But no...no, that wasn’t it.  Something had awoken him, but instinct told him it wasn’t those travelers.  It was something else.  Something had called to the young Sadida as he slept.

“Hello?” He whispered into the quiet, though nothing answered.  He waited, listening to the sounds of everything around him.  The forest was still quiet, but waking up.  Shutting his eyes, Cypress reached out, trying to sense with a deeper part of himself what he couldn’t see or hear, and the trees pulled at his awareness.

Images raced into his mind in a flashing blur.  Miles of land flew by in seconds and he could barely mark the path shown when suddenly it came to a halt.  He was looking upon a tree, an ancient, towering tree in a forest miles from where he sat.  It was a pillar of strength and power, the lone guardian keeping watch over its domain.  It was awake and aware and, though it had taken years to get to this point, it was steadily growing very angry.  A name rose to the young bard’s lips, unbidden.

“The Venerable Soft Oak?” He murmured.  “Are you the one who called me?”

The images vanished from his mind’s eye, dissipating like thin wisps of parting smoke.  Cypress opened his eyes, momentarily still surprised to find himself in the same tree he had fallen asleep in.  His span of awareness slowly returned to normal, but the images remained burned in his mind.  Thoughts tried to clamor for his attention, but he couldn’t focus on sorting them out.  Bard-related daydreams and fears of the angry men gave way to the solid, incontestable fact that this ancient tree had called out to him.  And he knew in his heart of hearts that he would go to the Venerable Soft Oak.

Calmly he shimmied down from the tree, climbing with a grace few races could lay claim to, and as his feet met the ground he shut his eyes.

“Show me the path.” He whispered.

The images returned, slower this time, showing the way.  With a nod, assured of what he had to do, Cypress opened his eyes again and began walking.