Death, Reincarnation, and Disappointment
My grandchildren's giggling laughter rang through the palace, echoing off vaulted ceilings and polished floors, easing away my frown and leaving a content smile in its place. Family, a good one, is the most precious gift you can receive in life. And I have been lucky enough to receive two.
A thought, a brief effort of will and mana, and my study door closed, cutting off the playful sounds of a happy life. Without the laughter the study's richness faded. Luxury and excess covered every surface, but without joy it held no value. Gold, jewels, trinkets, and rare artefacts…you live long enough and all these become meaningless shiny baubles.
My gaze landed on the blue leather-bound book waiting on my old jade desk. My smile dropped to a scowl.
I sighed, scratching the back of my neck. "What is the point in being one of the most powerful men in the kingdom if I am too afraid of my wife to tell her I don't want to do this?"
The opulence in my empty study sparkled, but offered no helpful advice.
I shook my head, made my way to the desk, and sat down, thumbing open the cover to the first blank page. New paper smell filled the room as I picked up my favourite fountain pen. I paused, looking at the pen. If I valued anything in my study it was this pen.
It was a gift from a friend.
The design appeared to be the same as any dwarven-made steel pen, —meaning beautifully etched, yet simplistic and functional. It was utterly unremarkable in a palace.
Unless you knew one small fact: the iron used in its creation was formed from the blood of an ancient dragon. That one detail made a simple pen into something extraordinary, utterly unique. Something not easily replicated.
And it was a joke.
And a very good one, by dwarven standards.
It goes like this. A plainly-dressed human walks up to a dwarf chief and addresses him as an equal. The chief head-butts him.
It's funny because dwarves have trouble telling humans apart. They see our people so rarely that most of us look the same to them. They identify our station from the clothing we wear. So when a dwarf chief meets a man dressed no differently than an ordinary merchant who talks to him like an equal, of course he is going to head-butt him for his audacity. And of course, years later, when he needs to make a gift for that same man, his friend, he is going to do so in true dwarven fashion, with an utterly unique pen that looks no more impressive than something which can be found in any dwarven shop.
My smile returned.
After I was finished with this nonsense, I would go and see how the old goat was doing.
I began to write.
The first chronicles of Arnold Parker, as told by me:
As I recall my many exploits, I must admit one simple truth: the beginning of my tale is not overly unique. I was born in another world, another universe. We called my world Earth and the land the kingdom of Radian resides in America and Mexico. There was no inherent magic in my world, only that which we created ourselves, with nothing but our minds and labour.
Earth was a beautiful world. It was not perfect or easy, but we were making it into something extraordinary. I've often wondered what it might be like now, but alas, that is not why you are here. You are here because you believe this is where you will learn about my many legendary accomplishments.
Nevertheless, this is my story, and I will tell it how I prefer, so if we are going to begin this tale anywhere, it will be where I choose, and I choose to start at the beginning. Back before all the fame and glory, back when I was a simple farmer, back to the events that led to the creation of that damned awful song that has plagued me since it came into my life.
Yes, this is the story of a song.
That song.
I know you know it. There isn't a child over five in any of the eleven kingdoms that doesn't know it by heart. And I know you've gotten drunk and belted out the words along with the children during a threshold party or festival. Everyone sings Silly Arnold. It's as well known as the Chicken Dance or Macarena in my own world.
And I could honestly live with that if that was all it was. But would you like to know what really pisses me off about that song? It's not the ridiculous words or the silly nature. It's not the fact it has made my life a bit of a joke. It is the fact that it has earned me more fame than anything else I have ever done. I've checked my logs, and none of my other accomplishments come close.
It is utter bullshit.
So, you are not going to read what you want to read until you learn the truth behind the song. Now, I will admit the truth makes me look like a bit of an idiot, but I was young, so possessed many of the worst qualities of youth, and I would rather look like an idiot than the alternative.
So we are going back to the beginning, back to before I was incarnated, back to when I was only late for a tournament.