Goddess of Honesty—Alphion,
recite to me the heroic tale of the famed sloth minstrel, Di’Marco.
The very same who has fought valiantly without a sword;
known for outwitting death;
where every village and port know his name and deeds;
and a suitor who prefers older women while their fertile daughters look on with heartbreak.
I have traveled a great distance to find your shrine,
where it is said that you have counseled him.
Oh, Goddess Alphion,
enlighten me with your wisdom and truth to know more.”
After hearing the stranger’s plea, the young goddess sat and observed. A raise of Her dainty hand signaled Her closest servant to fetch something from the back of the grand chamber, where She had pointed. The shrouded mistress nodded and went to a bookshelf. There, without effort, pulled a tome and walked down the steps to the traveler. Handing the book over, she returned to the young goddess’ side.
“Before I accept your plea, I would like to know your intentions stranger. Is it of jealousy or revenge that you seek justice for? Or is motivation confused with curiosity?” Alphion didn’t have to wait for a response.
“My intentions have led me here to you Lady Alphion. Only you can determine the fate of my journey.” The traveler’s eyes met Hers and realized the lack of discipline. “Forgive me, I am not accustomed to the traditions of this country.”
Alphion smiled and stood from Her chair. A firm, “Leave us.”, sounded more like an echoing chorus to a departing crowd.
The traveler watched the trickling of a dozen servants take their leave, except the one by Her side. “Have I offended you, Lady Alphion?”, looking around with a fatigued body expecting a fight.
She answered, “No.”
As the last servant closed the door, She stood and took a breath. Her bare feet carried Her down five steps from Her chair to the traveler. Her gown of transparent moonlight wrapped Her body, concealing the figure men have lusted for over the centuries. She smelled of sweet citruses, like a fruit-bearing tree. Alphion’s hair was long but was tamed under a wreath. Taking the book from the traveler and opening to the first page, She said, “Stranger, I have determined your intentions are true. I will tell you of the sloth minstrel, Di’Marco—my closest friend.”
"A tramp, a gentleman, a poet, a dreamer, a lonely fellow, always hopeful of romance and adventure." ~Charlie Chaplin