Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story by Kirill Klevanski (ink book reader .txt) 📕

insult. Their hot-headedness was known through the lands of all the Thirteen Kingdoms.

For a while there was nothing but the sound of the merriment going on in the camp, and then the elder, clutching his enormous belly, deafened them with a laughter that resembled an avalanche. Smiling, Ash returned the pitchers to the girl.

The elder hugged him so tightly that Ash felt his bones crack. Nevertheless, he kept the smile on his face, but it looked so crooked that both his son and the little girl began to chuckle.

“Who did our brother travel with, eh?” he asked, slapping Ash so hard that he almost knocked him off his feet.

“With the Kerava clan,” the young mage wheezed, rubbing his bruised shoulder.

“Ah, good people, those Keravas!” Both the elder and his son nodded. “Come now, we invite you to join the feast, travelers.”

“Thank you, sir, er...”

“Raland,” the elder introduced himself, then waved his hand two the two youths standing by him. “And these are my son and daughter, Zayum and Rikha.”

“Laughter and wine,” Ash greeted.

“Laughter and wine,” they replied.

“Rikha, show the guests around. Zayum, take the horses to the stables.”

The Stumps exchanged glances and looked cautiously at their cart, which was packed with expensive items. Ash turned to Mary and asked her to trust him. She debated with herself for a good ten seconds before finally giving in. Jumping to the ground, she patted her horse, and handed the reins to Zayum.

Soon, the horses, Guido included, disappeared among the tents and only the fading creak of the wooden wheels of the cheap cart could be heard.

Rikha led the way to a sort of square in the center of the camp. She was dragging Ash by the hand. He was smiling at the warm fingers that held his thin wrist rather tightly.

“Have you lost your mind?” Mary hissed.

The rest of the group nodded in agreement.

“If I hadn’t done what I did, we wouldn’t have been accepted as guests.”

“What do you mean?” Alice asked.

“The Aqueals only consider other Aqueals guests, or those who know the way of their people. When you’re met by a traveling artist, the first thing you need to do is wish them a good laugh. Laughter is money in show business, a commodity that people are willing to pay for. As for the wine, according to a legend, wine makes a woman’s skin softer and smoother.”

“Nonsense.” Lari snorted. “I’d be as smooth as a baby’s bottom then.”

Ash shrugged.

“As for the drinks,” he continued, “wine isn’t something that should be drunk alone, but in good company. It’s something that’s to be shared with a person whose name you don’t know. I don’t know much about it, but that’s what I’ve been told. That’s why I poured it. For a traveler, their horse is dearer to them than their own family and more valuable than gold. So you first need to take care of your horse and then of yourself.”

“Well, that part makes sense.” Blackbeard nodded.

“Be warned,” Alice nudged Ash with her elbow, “that we’ll make you tell us all about that... Kedabra clan.”

“Kerava,” he corrected her. “There’s nothing to tell. I traveled with them for a couple of months. That’s the whole story.”

“Hold on...” Tul squinted. He hadn’t changed his expression the entire time. “You were their jester, weren’t you?”

The young mage smiled broadly and scratched the back of his head.

“You really are perceptive.”

The Stumps burst out laughing.

Chapter 43

H aving led the guests through the maze of lights and tents, Rikha took them to what Ash would call “the inner sanctum” of any camp — a huge clearing with a table full of delicious food and fragrant wines. It wasn’t that the Aqueals were drunkards or gluttons (although they never turned down a good meal), but they celebrated life and all that came with it. Unlike most wandering artists, they didn’t trage their freedom for the comfort of the city or the patronage of a rich noblemen. Around a huge bonfire, the flames of which rose almost ten feet high, were rows of musicians, famous for their ability to play any song written under the light of Irmaril. Their fingers ran over the strings of their instruments with such ease that even the best of elven bards would envy their skill.

In the distance, fire breathers were playing with the crimson flames, making Ash grit his teeth. He wasn’t able to do such a thing even with his magic. Acrobats flew above the heads of the spectators, hitting people with their props. One of the acrobats bent in such a way that Blackbeard couldn’t help but whistle, earning himself a smack on the head. Here and there, they’d spot the jugglers, who played not with balls, but knives and sabers so sharp that Mary would gladly use them in a fight.

Among the Aqueals were other Ternites. They sat on the east side of the fire and smiled at the girls and boys walking to and fro. Contrary to their expectations, the Stumps weren’t instructed to join them, but were instead led in the opposite direction, where sat a small group of Ternites.

Ash couldn’t believe his eyes that all four of the Ternites were lone travelers. Adventurers who preferred to explore on their own were a rather rare sight and most eventually joined a group or found a partner. Seeing one or two lone wolves wasn’t too out of the ordinary, but to find four in one place was a bit odd.

Thanking the Gods that his companions restrained themselves from asking inappropriate or even stupid questions, Ash sat down on one of the pillows and gratefully accepted the tray that one of the Aqueals gave to him.

Looking at the carved wooden tray and the plates of various foods, Mary broke the silence.

“I understand that if it weren’t