Basil's story (NaNoWriMo - 18)

"I missed yesterday's storytime... can you tell me a story?"

"Actually you missed nothing except drunk men. I know many stories... what if I tell you about my life, what I did and heard?"

"It's a story. I love to hear it."

"Well then..."

It's ages ago I was your age. I remember it well but it's not that I miss those days. Childhood wasn't the best part of my life. Not because of my parents they were great, understanding, real personalities and free spirits. I grew up with one sister, a twin sister and where ever she went I followed. Actually, I followed in her footsteps not my parent's.
The world we lived in... there was no difference if it came to male or female likes, jobs or duties. Each one of us was taught to do everything we never thought about gender and religion, being ruled by one person wasn't part of the way I was raised.
Like said my parents were free spirits and wanted the same for us. I assume my sister was one but not me. How can a twin with a shared soul be free? I never discussed it with my parents but kept thinking about it.

Quiet the same interests we twins didn't have. She always stood on the barricades, fought for what was right while I... I followed her but not to fight but to hear the stories. The good and the bad ones. I loved meeting people and traveling around. That's why I followed her as she announced she would join the troops and fight for a good case.
My parents... they hated wars, fights and I doubt they would have joined any training out of fun. They never fought, always tried it with reason.
My sister... She fought with words and later with weapons. No one could scare her. No God, emperor, King or knight made her kneel for some reason each one of them kneeled for her.

I doubt anyone ever noticed me during those days. I followed her and she protected me, kept me with her deeds and appearance out of the spotlights.
It all changed as we marched to the South. My dear sister became a position at a King's court, not just a King but a bored to death one. She thought it sounded like a good idea to open 'his laziness' his eyes by telling him what life outside of the palace looked like, real life like she called it. She introduced me, not as her brother but as a story teller. One she had met on the road.

The King was a tiny man, a sadist and it wasn't hard to figure out his weak spots. One of them was stories about worlds he loved to conquer and the other one was magic.
What do you do if you fight for a better world and the only way to a man's heart is the road via his weak spots?
This horrible man without a tiny bit of self-esteem compensated his lack of nearly everything by torturing the nation. Those people he needed because without them there was nothing to rule. Say yourself what is a king without a country?
At day time I listened and investigated and at night I made up a story around my observations with a special role for his Highness.
'Highness' he loved that word. He saw himself as the Almighty, higher than the Sun God himself. He loved to hear how he ruled and of course saved the world with all kind of magic tricks I intertwined in my tales and I partly showed during those hours. Light effects, thunder, a bit of fire, the wind and how you use your voice can even turn a gruesome monster into a lamb. A lamb, that was exactly what he became in my sister's hands. The man without any scrupulous cried like a baby in the presence of my sister and the audience of nobles. At that time I started to change my stories. What she needed was a man willing to fight for a good cause. A man with power. My sister and our clan had the power of strength and words but to fight a God you needed someone who was or felt equal to one.
Our clan became without a leader. The one we had died. His son tried but never intended to be a leader. He was tricked and imprisoned. After that happened our folk, those who wanted a life in peace, freedom and harmony, started vanishing. It was as if the spirit had left them and the weight of the burden of the heavens was carried by each one of them instead of the former leader his son only."

"Atlas," I whispered.

"Indeed our leader his son's name was Atlas and after the punishment, not one of us had seen him again. It was my sister who figured out where to find him but also who was the most likely person to help to set him free. The miserable King, as she called him, only needed to be convinced it would benefit him if he released Atlas. It was my task to confirm what she said by telling 'your Highness' what the old, famous stories, dream interpreters and magicians told.

"The one who releases Atlas will not only reign over the heavens but the world too till eternity," I whispered in his ear just before the light was switched off. "Imagine my King this is you. Almighty, immortal, feared. One God for all."

We sat in the dark for a while. Not left in the dark but with our own thought till an 'angel' in a bundle of light showed and pointed at the King saying, "you are the chosen one."

The following days we didn't mention Atlas. I told stories about countries far away. Cultures who lived in the darkest forests far away from any society. I described their days, the richness of the countries I visited and the beautiful art those foreigners created out of precious metals, wood, ivory and glass. After that our bard took over and sang about those lost places, loved ones and the need for a lionhearted man...

I admit it took time but together we managed. The bored King found a reason to live for. For the first time he was focussed on not only reaching the stars but reigning over them.

Basil paused and looked upon the sky. I followed his gaze and wondered if we saw the same. He said he made up stories for that King but I felt there was more. The expression on his face had changed as he continued.

"What happened? Was Atlas saved?"

As Basil turned his head into my direction his eyes looked empty.

"Basil?"

He smiled. "Atlas was saved. We found him. He didn't carry the celestial vault but was buried alive in a hole. Mother Earth had mercy with him, kept him alive till we found him. Of course the King didn't travel with us but we kept him updated with our daily stories.

" How?"

"Pigeons," he smirked, "pigeons for good news and black birds for bad news."

"Atlas... he changed or perhaps the one we found was the man he always had been. He wasn't a fighter, never liked being a leader, he did as what was told, what others expected from him. A good, loyal, honest man he was. Loyal, friendly and naive. All qualities one should admire but instead he was manipulated, fooled, abused and..."

"Disliked," I said.

Basil nodded. "I intended to say hated but disliked fits too."

Total amount of words: 3176

A part is published and the end is near.