Forgotten Dreams of Eternity: Lost Odyssey: Thousand Years of Dreams

(Short Story -XXXII.) *Samii the Storyteller*

For these people, Samii would mount the stage in the square and recount the drama of the battlefield in ringing tones, accompanying his stories with gestures and flourishes and, sometimes, even tears.

Samii's stories of the battlefield, however, were by no means composed of unadorned fact. He beautified many parts.

He cleverly concealed elements that could be embarassing to the army.

And he acted out and embellished his stories in ways that were sure to set his listeners' hearts to throbbing.

If a soldier happened to do something that was relatively helpful to his unit, in Samii's hands it would be transformed into an amazing military exploit.

But that was just the normal level of exaggeration he introduced into his stories. At times, a soldier killed after a panicked escape from an enemy attack would be turned into a gallant warrior who died bravely without yielding an inch of soil.

A man who lost his life to a raging epidemic would be described as having met a glorious end after challenging an enemy general in hand to hand combat.

Even a soldier who had lost his mind out of sheer terror and breathed his last after a period of hallucinating, in Samii's hands, could be refashioned into a hero who gave his life in exchange for turning the tide of battle.

In other words, Samii's stories were almost all lies.

It could be said that he was deceiving the people.

But that was the mission of the storyteller.

In the square stood a number of soldiers carrying swords.

If Samii ever said anything that ran counter to the intentions of the military, they would have immediately arrested him, made it impossible for him ever to speak again by cutting his tongue out with a hot iron poker, and imprisoned him for whatever remained of his life.

Kaim knew well enough that Samii's duty as a national reciter was to whip up the people's fighting spirit.

While accomplishing that, his stories also served to comfort those who had lost their friends and family members in battle.

People would often ask Samii, "What was it like when my son died?" or "How was my boyfriend on the battlefield?" or "How about my father?"

Samii would ask the soldier's name, answer, "Oh, him, yes, I remember him well." and speak movingly of the death of a nameless soldier of whom he had no recollection whatever.

Before long, from here and there amid the throng crammed into every corner of the square, would come the sound of sobbing. These were not tears of sorrow, however. Rather, they were the hot tears of pride and gratitude for soldiers who had died fighting for the fatherland, tears of anger toward the enemy troops, tears filled with a determination to win this war at all costs, come what may, in the name of justice.

"And what's wrong with that?" Samii would say in affirmation.

"The families of soldiers killed in action have grieved enough already from hearing the news that their loved ones have died. After that, it's just a matter of how much meaning they can find in the person's death, how much pride they can feel at the way it happened.

Am I right? Nobody wants to believe his or her loved one died for nothing. Nobody wants to face the fact that the person died in an embarrassing way. So I tell them lies, I make everybody into a hero. If it's a choice between actual fact that can only cause sorrow and lies that raise people's spirits, I'll take the lies every time. It's not for the army, it's for the families that I go on telling these beautiful lies.