A response to the combination of challenge prompts Bad Luck/Racism in Videogames/What happened to Tida's caravan? suggested in ladycordelia17's forum by various writers more imaginative than me.

This is the introduction to a tale of Tida's caravan, exploring who they were and what went wrong. Playing FFCC, I resented the view of my brother and my friend that the Tidan caravan must not have been very good people to fail their village. My response was thus; that everyone makes mistakes, and that the majority of everyday heroes go unsung. Wise as that may or may not sound, we'd all been at the Coca-Cola too much and strange things begins to surface at times like these.

The children of Trinity in this piece are featured in my other story, Tales of Trinity. While it's definitely not vital to have read Tales of Trinity, it might help you understand the characters a little better. Also, readers of my other story may notice a few occurrences slotted in there that may cause them to think 'eh?'. This piece should clear those up, and fill in those little extra details about history and background that might otherwise have not been explored. I can't promise any regularity of updates for this story, as most of my attention is concentrated on Tales of Trinity at the moment. The best I can manage of top of coursework and exams is perhaps a chapter per month for this story. I hope you'll understand, and also that this piece makes you smile and maybe shed a tear. If anyone spots any mistakes, please let me know so I can sort them out. I don't think I have any more to say, so I'll shut up and here goes.

How We Were

PROLOGUE: Storytelling

Aineen Oakhelm was baking.

The aged Clavat had been married to Ronus Oakhelm, Elder of tiny Trinity village, for nearly forty-five years. She was a kindly soul, her face lined with the day to day cares of life; when she smiled, her face creased up pleasantly. By day she tended her beautiful little flower patches. On occasion she would make her way to the small village school and lend a hand teaching Trinity's very youngest children to read and write, perhaps how to fold paper into birds.

And, once a week, she would bake scones and biscuits and go sit by the crystal as the tiny bell in the school-tower rang seven chimes to let everyone know the time. As dusk began to creep in, children who had no chores for the afternoon would come and sit around her with a biscuit each and listen to her tell stories. Aineen had never had any children of her own, and so it gave her great pleasure to entertain the little mites.

Carefully, she removed the last tray of cookies from her little clay oven over the fire and set it on the windowsill so that the biscuits would cool off. The smell soon attracted a little Clavat girl with long brown hair tied loosely back, wearing neatly-fitting white robes.

"Aineen?" the little girl called, "It's me, Mioko. Are you there?"

"Of course I am, my dear," Aineen beamed at the tailor's daughter and gestured that she should come round to the door so that Aineen could let her into the kitchen, "What can I do for you?"

Mioko smiled and bobbed a polite curtsey, "I only smelled you baking, Aineen, so I wondered if you were going to tell more stories tonight?"

"That I am, Mioko," Aineen acknowledged, folding up her oven gloves and laying them on the kitchen side, "Is there anything in particular you'd like me to tell today?"

"Last week you told us about the island far out to sea," Mioko recalled thoughtfully, head tilted to one side, "But mama called me away early. I couldn't ask you to tell it again because everyone else would have heard it. Is there anything else about the island that you didn't talk about?"

Aineen chuckled.

"There is plenty to talk about still, my dear. I shall think of something."

Mioko's little face lit up in gratitude, "Really? Thank you! I must go and tell Kass that story-telling is tonight. I shall see you later, Aineen."

Aineen watched the girl hurry away in the direction of the blacksmith's forge, which still glowed orange with the heat of the fires. Mioko was only eleven, but she had impeccable manners and a thirst for tales of the extraordinary. Of all of Trinity's twenty or so children, she was one of the few that always managed to turn up for Aineen's stories. Still chuckling, Aineen reached for her bowl of icing so that she could decorate her biscuits.

"Ciaran, you forgot to lock the tool shed again," a voice called crossly.

In the farmer's field, another Clavat child straightened up. He was perhaps a little taller than Mioko, with a blond calflick that stuck rather messily out to one side; his baggy green sleeves were pulled up to the elbow so that he could get on with ploughing the little part of the field that his father had set aside at his request.

"I did not!" Ciaran called back, looking puzzled, "I remember shutting it."

His elder brother came into view, brown hair tousled and breeches dirtied at the bottom. He folded his arms disbelievingly.

"Of course you remember," he said sarcastically, "Ciaran, you mustn't forget! Last time you did, little Sal Staid got in and the watering can fell on her head."

"I locked the door, Ramsey!" Ciaran threw his hoe down in exasperation, "And I did last time too. Someone else must be unlocking it."

"Like who?" Ramsey asked. Ciaran bit his lip, but said nothing. After an expectant pause, Ramsey sighed and turned away, leaving the little boy stood alone in the neat brown rows of soil. Ciaran watched him go, eyes cloudy with disappointment, before a flash of movement caught his attention.

Mioko, the tailor's daughter, was running by the field in the direction of the Staid family forge. Ciaran ran to the fence and climbed up, waving.

"Mioko!"

The girl didn't stop but raised an arm in greeting as she went by, smiling all over her heart shaped face, "Hello, Ciaran! Are you coming to story-telling tonight?"

Ciaran only had time to nod before she disappeared behind the wood stacks that the Staid family used to stoke their forges. When he was sure that she was gone, Ciaran hopped down from the fence and to collect his tools. Arms full, he deposited the pile in the tool shed and, making a point of locking the door, made a beeline for the house to get changed.

The schoolhouse bell rang out seven times as Aineen travelled the short distance between her cottage and the crystal. Slowly, she climbed the steps halfway and set down her basket, waiting. It didn't take long; a small cluster of children came darting round the corner not minutes after she'd sat down. Aineen counted - twelve had come today. As they all scrambled to sit in a circle around the bottom of the stairs, she delved into her basket and took out a dozen iced biscuits. The first went to Mioko, who was sat the closest, and the second to her best friend Kass the Lilty.

"Thank you," they chorused dutifully, Kass taking a bite out of his straight away. The third went to Ciaran, who had dropped down next to Kass. Mioko smiled at him.

"Hello! I'm glad you came, Ciaran."

"Me too," Ciaran said, taking his biscuit gratefully. The other children - nine of them - all arranged themselves neatly and awaited their own sweet. Ciaran waved to his little cousin Moxie Hollbrook, who was only four; Kass pulled a face at his own cousin Tila, the rancher's daughter. When Aineen saw that all her charges were settled, she smiled and leaned forward.

"Is this everyone?"

Replies of 'I think so' and 'yes' came back as everyone consulted one another about who wasn't coming. Aineen sat back contentedly - as one, the circle of children leaned inwards so that they would not miss a single word that could at any minute issue from her lips.

"Now, you must all remember the tale I told you last week? The mysterious isle that lies far away to sea? It is such a beautiful place, emerald green with thick trees and freckled with flowers. You will recall, children, that this place has no need of a crystal because it is so far away from us poor folk on the mainland that there is no miasma. Many have tried to find this paradise, but none have succeeded. Now, the creatures that live there are like nothing you have ever seen - "

That night Aineen told all she knew of that mystical island, and then moved on to ever more fantastical retellings. Oh, what stories Aineen knew! Some she made up on the spur of the moment, more to entertain the little ones and make them giggle than to educate. She spoke of the king who ruled the land deep underground in his caverns full of crystals and gems, the Yuke whose wings were so big that he flew away and never returned, the adventures of a tiny moogle who got lost one day. The children clung to her every word, drinking in the glorious pictures she painted for them until they were filled with excitement and glee. For two hours she talked and talked, and her heart sang with the joy of it.

Little Moxie had fallen asleep in Ciaran's lap; the Glen twins were dozing off with their heads resting together. Fireflies danced above Aineen's head, around the lantern that Kass's father had brought so that the dark shouldn't frighten the gathering. Mioko's eyes were still fixed intently on Aineen's face, as if she were in another world altogether. Eventually though, Aineen stopped speaking, saving her stories for the week to come. Some parents had arrived to pick up the younger children and one by one, calling thank-yous and goodbyes, they filtered away to soft cotton beds.

"Come on, Mi," Kass said, tugging at the Clavat's hand boisterously, "If we're home quick my ma will let you have some stew."

"Just a minute, Kass," Mioko said benignly, and Kass subsided in his devotion to her. Mioko approached the Elder's wife and helped her fold the cover-blanket back into the baking basket.

"Thank you, darling," Aineen's eyes disappeared into laughter lines as she smiled, "Did you enjoy the rest of the story about the island?"

"Yes, I did," Mioko replied, "But, Mrs. Oakhelm, I have a question please."

"Ask away," Aineen said, straightening up as far as her creaky bones would allow. Even Mioko, much less than five feet tall, could almost look her in the eye. The Clavat frowned, as if trying to decide how best to frame her inquiry.

"When you told us about King Armstrong, who lived underground in the jewel cavern, it reminded me of something I heard Mr. Coppergate say."

Aineen paused. Christian Coppergate had served several years in the caravan before a leg injury had forced his early retirement and return to his healing practice, along with his wife Rosa. A terrible suspicion formed in her mind, but she brushed it aside in the hopes that Mioko would not ask that question.

Kass and Ciaran, drawn by curiosity, peered up at the duo from behind the pillar at the bottom of the stairs. The Lilty pulled a face.

"What do you suppose she's a-wondering about now?" he asked Ciaran innocently. The Lilty was only ten, and small even for someone of Liltian heritage. Some of the youngest Clavat children at four and five years of age were as tall as he was. Ciaran looked down at him in genuine ignorance.

"I don't know, Kass. Hush now, I want to listen."

"Ask away," Aineen was saying, with false cheer. Mioko brushed her hair out of her face nervously, as if she knew what she was about to ask was making Aineen uncomfortable and feared she would be punished.

"Mr. Coppergate, he was speaking to Mrs. Coppergate about a monster called Armstrong. Are they the same person?"

"No," Aineen said honestly. Mioko hovered, as if wondering whether to press further.

"Aineen, Mr. Coppergate said that the Armstrong monster was up at Tida. Isn't that… a village? Why would there be monsters in a village?"

"I - " Aineen paused, suddenly spotting the two boys peering curiously out at her from their hiding spot. She indicated for them to come into the dim blue light of the crystal. Sheepishly, they trailed into view.

"I suppose you two want to know about Armstrong too?"

"Yessum, a little bit," Ciaran admitted, "It sounded interesting."

"Me too," Kass agreed, "Aineen, do you have any biscuits left?"

Aineen showed her empty basket to the Lilty boy.

"No, my dear, I'm sorry."

"About Armstrong, though?" Mioko repeated, "And Tida?"

Aineen looked about her for salvation - a parent come to take the children home, some problem with which her assistance was required, but no. Mioko and Kass lived so near that they walked home, and at this hour no immediate problems ever arose in tiny Trinity. She sighed heavily.

"Mioko, do you know what happens when a caravan doesn't come home?"

Mioko shook her head blankly. Kass approached and took hold of her sleeve; he too looked puzzled at the thought. The Trinity caravan had always come home. It was never even late. Ciaran, however, did know. He leaned against the column at the bottom of the steps, face shadowed by the aquamarine light dancing over his features.

"The crystal dies."

Both Mioko and Kass turned to look at him in horror.

"It dies?" Kass repeated, while Mioko's brows came together in absolute bewilderment, "You mean, it goes out?"

"That's right," Aineen acknowledged, "When a caravan doesn't bring home the myrrh, the crystal stops working."

"Why would a caravan not come home?" Mioko sounded distressed, "Monsters?"

Aineen's heart quailed a little. In recent times the Trinity caravan had been exceedingly lucky. The caravan had not lost a member in twenty-three years and these innocent little children knew nothing of the dangers that faced those recruits brave enough to volunteer their services. Monsters were real, oh, they knew that. But monsters weren't frightening to them. They had never looked one in the eye nor smelled foul breath in their faces, seen terrified reflections in one glistening drop of saliva. The caravanners just got rid of them, and that was all they knew. The caravanners were immortal. And they always - always - came home.

"Yes, Mioko," Aineen said sadly, "Monsters. Sometimes, a monster is just too clever or just too lucky for a caravanner. Sometimes, even the most skilled fighters come up against odds that they cannot possibly surmount. And sometimes, the caravanners die."

Mioko's face was ashen. Kass huddled close to her to give her some moral support.

"It's okay, Mi. No one's died in ages."

"Caravanners die?" Mioko repeated, half whispering, "But I thought - "

"Mioko, you must understand," Aineen said solemnly, "The outside world is very, very dangerous. No matter how brave you are, no matter how strong, you are just a mortal. Mortals have to pass on sometimes, my dear, it's part of being a living creature. It's just that sometimes, people have to leave much sooner than we'd like."

With that wisdom imparted to them, the three children in the presence of the crystal grew up. Aineen saw it happen before her very eyes, and it saddened her greatly.

"The Tidan caravan," Ciaran said slowly, "Is that what happened to them? They were killed?"

Aineen looked pained, but she nodded. She could not lie. The more these children knew of the outside world, the better they would be prepared for its trials.

"Who were they?" Ciaran said suddenly. Aineen turned to look at him, startled.

"Sorry?"

"Who were they?" Ciaran said again, "The Tidan caravan. I never hear any stories about them."

"That's because stories are about heroes," Kass suggested, "If they didn't come home they couldn't have been very good heroes."

Mioko swatted him in her agitation, clearly very upset.

"It all depends on how you determine the meaning of hero," Aineen said softly, "Children, we are measured in life by how much we are valued by those around us. To the majority of this world, you are an unknown face. But, Kass, to Mioko you mean very much. The Tidan caravan were very brave, heroes to each other, but no one truly knows their story. All they are ever remembered for is their failure."

"You know their story," Ciaran said. His voice was steady and his eyes shrewd, "Aineen, could you tell it to me?"

"To us?" Kass corrected. Mioko nodded.

"Now?" Aineen blinked. The tiny schooltower bell chimed out nine times, and she started. "Goodness. It's late. Children, you must run along home now."

"But will you tell us?" Ciaran persisted. Aineen looked from his face to Mioko's, and saw there something she had never seen before; stony determination. She had not the heart to deny them this, and she had not the heart to deny the truth of the Tidan caravan's fate. If she told these children, perhaps someone would understand. Someone would remember those caravanners as anything but failures.

"Alright," she said finally, and Ciaran and Mioko exchanged anticipated glances, "But not tonight. I will not tell this story to the other children, either. You three alone can hear this. It shall be our little secret."

"Alright," Ciaran said, and touched his forehead politely; Mioko dipped her curtsey and together they ran off, Kass lagging behind as he waved goodnight.

End of prologue. I hope this has caught your interest, and if it has I'll be seeing you next chapter. Reviews are appreciated but not mandatory, so long as you come back to read!