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Stories of the Arvenii Nobles
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Somewhere far east from the lands of the Arverni and Sequani laid a stream with fertile valleys and low plains. There had been this young man - son of the Vollorix of his tribe - who had undergone his childhood with great satisfaction. He'd exelled well in all kind of things he was teached. However nice his childhood had been - in the young age of about 110 moons he had to learn that there had always been an envier since he did the first breath.
... another place ... another time ...
There was one thing the old man would never forgot again. The story of this young boy who sat in front of him, his eyes laid on three accumulations of peeples. The boy was without question an exellent student but those seventeen moons that had passed since they first met had been such a short time in his life. The wise man always wondered about the sons of Aneirin - all of them - but this one truly caught most of his interest.
Of low plains and a stream the boy had told him tales. Of fertile valleys in which powerful and fierce warriors grew and lived. But this tales were ceased for some reasons. The boy sat in front of him for a reason - a reason so lucky he would maybe understand in some years. Belenos just sat there and did his maths - he would consume the tales of the Arverni later in the evening. The old man was happy to have some time for drinking a cup of wine since the interests of students did not stop with weary tongues if their teachers.
Seventeen moons had passed since the great Verrix and Vollorix of the Arverni tribe and their allies had given the boy a new chance. It had been unsecure times - those tribes of the east had fluently raided the lands of the confederation. Lugos had helped the Arverni to overcome there enemys. Bloody skirimishs had been fought out. The Verrix had won all of them. But there had been one battle he'd never forget. The fierce leader of the raidparty had burned a picture in his thoughts since then.
Black long hair and deep green eyes that seemed to be dark but glinted with hate and ferocity. After the battle and the death of the party-leader Aneirin thought the story of this eyes ceased. Still he hadn't found the camp of the party. His first Arjos sent Aneirin a notice some days later. There had been slaves in the raidercamp. Among them one young boy that could had been the son of the party leader. He had have the same eyes - in fact the were blue - but with the same meanings and expressions. It had been a key moment - the decission of Aneirin to order the young slave into his tent.
Aneirin had seen and learned much things in his long life. Yet this boy had been one that could tought him that he'd never cease to learn in his life. The story the slaveboy had tought Aneirin had huge impact on the tribes belongings. The Verrix had gifted the boy with freedom and had granted him education - but for what matter?
[This thoughts had been thought in late winter of the year 289 BC]