The Forest of Irmangard was protected by the ancient kings as a sacred site as it was believed that when the Fargod descended to earth, he made his home in a grove in the center of the forest. Irmangard was the old Aredunian word that translated literally as Second Man Protector, or in the modern interpretation, the Protector of the Second Coming of Men. Kidu had studied all the great forests of each realm. While details were not needed in the exams, he found the forests of the world a fascinating topic. Of the three most famous forests of the world, one of them was The Seat of the World, probably the most ancient of them all in the middle of the Sea of Ruin. The second was the Withings in northern Kienne, where countless battles had been fought. Irmangard was the third, and he had long hoped to visit all three one day.
Irmingard was only a two days away journey by horse. Kidu was given a painted stallion and had set out east alone from the Gildemanse. The Queen Mother Helena had offered two companions to ride with him, but Kidu insisted that he go alone. He had told her that he needed to move quickly and in quiet, but truthfully he just wanted to be away from people, if only for a few days. She at least insisted to provide ample food and water, though Kidu had longed learned to live off the forest back in the Scales.
Once he rode past the outlying villages he noticed there were no well worn paths to the forest, as if the Aredunians avoided it.
There was a small standing pool of water and a field of daisies in the clearing at the edge of the forest. He studied the ground before he entered. He found thick scat with a strong smell. When he crumbled it beneath his boot, he found hair and bone fragments. Wolf scat, he was able to identify. He had not seen wolves out in the field or the road so far. Perhaps there was a den in the forest.
He wanted to tie his horse by the water but worried now about wolves. Kidu let his horse roam free, to give him a chance should such an encounter come. Before entering the forest he listened for the sound of a running stream or bubbling brook, but heard nothing, so he continued on.
Kidu periodically touched the soil for moisture, but every part was as dry and firm as the next. He found deer tracks and followed them, hoping it would lead him to a water source, but the tracks disappeared and he wasn't sure if he was anywhere nearer to the center of the forest, and had still not found the juniper bushes.
If there were both deer and wolves in this forest, he should be finding bones, but there was nothing. Kidu had dealt with wolves only once as they were scarce in the Scales. The people had expanded their townships further into the wilderness, pushing the wolves further north until the wolves started venturing into town. The town folk started hunting the wolves, claiming their pelts.
Kidu had joined several monks whose assignment was to track the wolves and push them north without any more of them dying, much to the objection of the town who simply wanted them dead. It did not take long for them to find the handful of grey wolves. They weren’t the rabid, bloodthirsty animals that the town folk had described. They were hungry and tired but still a proud dwindling pack.
Though they growled, the wolves did not want to fight. The monks prodded the wolves until they left town and moved to the forests up north. They hadn’t seen the wolves since, and sometimes Kidu wondered if any of them survived.
He continued searching for the juniper bushes until dark. There was no wind in the forest but some unusual chill sunk past his coat and into his bones. He found a granite outcropping where he could shelter beside a fire. He sat beneath a massive oak tree and started camp.
While he started a fire, Kidu thought of the trip he had taken with Master Rengu into the forest outside of Angshar. He was probably twelve, and Master Rengu was still able to make such trips. Master Rengu had told him stories of his trips with Menquist to the Sea of Ruin, about the various peoples and animals they encountered. As a boy that was all he wanted, to travel the world like his master.
When they entered that forest in Angshar years ago, Kidu had pretended that they entered the remains of Arkromenyon and were visiting the ancient trees. He kept asking Rengu about the forest. The Master then told him of a very ancient oak tree that even the barbarians would not venture near, for the barbarians dared not disturb the antiquated air breathed by the trees that saw the beginning of all histories.
“The Barbarians call it the Seat of the World,” Rengu said. “It is where they believe the first acorn of the world dropped to the earth.”
Kidu had pointed out a very large tree, knotted and covered in moss. “Does it look like that?”
Rengu led Kidu toward that tree. “This tree is indeed old. It is probably several hundred years old. Without doubt it has seen the world change several times over. It is probably one of the older trees we have here in the Scales. But the trees in Arkromenyon, they are of an entirely different age. Trees there are thousands of years old.”
“How can anything be that old?” Kidu asked.
“I may never know if it is true,” Rengu said. “All trees possess a type of wisdom with their unwavering limbs that carry the burden of both sky and earth. When I first saw the Seat of the World, I was not thoroughly impressed by it. It was large, yes, with branches as thick as entire trees, but it wasn’t magnificent. It didn’t stir the sense of awe within me. I lived in that forest when I was young. I lived in it for three seasons. But even as the winter drew near marking the closing of the year, I still could not see past the mystery of the old tree.”
“Are the winters in the Sea of Ruin as cold as they are here?” Kidu asked.
“It may not snow everywhere, but winter is always cold, in its own way,” Rengu said. “When the world is weary and seemingly absent of any life, that is when winter comes. The forests have fallen into a long dark sleep, it is then that the ancient trees are at its strongest. Its roots run very deep, and stretches out across this forest.”
“How can you be sure?” Kidu asked. “Surely you can’t see the roots beneath the ground.”
“I see the shape of the roots by seeing the shape of the tree,” Rengu replied. “What comes out of the earth and extends towards the heavens has roots that mirror the form of what we can see. Take a look at the tree you just pointed out to me. And as you can see, the old oak reaches above the forest, and its crown flows in a wide circle like a billowing cloud. So the roots bear the same shape, and are as sturdy as the giant limbs you see here. Kidu, just because the roots are hidden does not mean you cannot see them.
“After all, people are not so different. To know a man’s heart, simply look beyond the impermanence of leaves and petals, and see the tree that is his physical being. And when you see his physical being, you shall know the root of that man, and understand his nature.”
“You speak in riddles, Master,” Kidu had said, twiddling a fallen twig between his fingers.
Kidu remembered watching Rengu's wrinkled eyes narrowing as they followed the wise lines that ran deep in the dark bark. “It takes quite a bit of mana to bloom all of its leaves in the spring. The mana comes from the buried roots, and travels to the physical form that we see, spreading from limb to limb, from branch to twig to stem to leaf. Soon the tree bears a hanging shower of leaves that could shade half the temples of Angshar, and many who are far away shall see the tops of the tree and will remark at the beauty of the swaying leaves in the prevailing wind. But in the later months of the year, the mana retreats from the leaves and makes its pilgrimage home to the roots. The leaves turn yellow, red then brown until it falls off, lifeless, creating a blanket of emptiness. No one marvels at a barren winter tree without its adornments of jade and emerald. But, young Kidu, it is the tree itself, not the greenery, that is pure and permanent. The leaves are but a passing fancy, a simple glimpse of a day in the endless corridor of time.”
“What in man is impermanent, Master?” Kidu had asked. “What are these passing fancies, as you call them?”
“The things we accumulate, the things we hold on to and make them dear to us,” the old man said, “are the fleeting things in our lives. Status, names, reputations, and aye, even relationships such as ours, have their beginnings and endings. They are but leaves of a season to the timeless tree. They come, and then soon they too shall pass. There is only one truth to the grand oak. There is only one constant that never wavers.”
Kidu stared at the massive tree. He began to understand. “It is what we believe in, isn't it? It is the reason we get up in the morning, and move on even though we have a reason not to. The truth that doesn’t change for a man is in his roots, you don’t see it but it doesn’t make it any less real. It is our virtue.”
Rengu had smiled and rubbed Kidu's head. “You shall be as wise as the trees one day, young Kidu.”
Kidu stoked the fire with a twig as he thought of that day. He looked around at the trees surrounding him and although he was alone this time, his memories of home made him feel less alone. He felt his topknot and laid down and looked at the stars through the treetops. The sound of the fire and the crickets lulled him to sleep.
