The Poet: 1-3 Idris

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Gina and Kahir make plans to visit Idris. They feel the poet's resilience upon witnessing his terrible living conditions.

Info

Style: Recommended: Faraway Journey Set Rewards: 3,000 , 600 , 3 , 1 , 1 , Blueprint: Banquet Favorite

Banquet Favorite

Dialogue Choices

I think for a moment and decide to compliment their...

• Dress
• Craftwork

I must think of a way to convince Idris to let us help.

• Tell him I'm a friend of Sinbad
• Talk about the poem at the Poetry Fest

Transcript

Expand for script.

• A few days later, Kahir and I arrange to visit Idris together.
• For reasons I can't put my finger on, my excitement is tinged with unease.

• You: It's better to dress light and simple if I'm going to the slums.

• Kahir: Good morning, Gina! You're rather punctual.

• You: It's a habit that comes from being a warehouse worker.

• Kahir: The last time we traveled together was to look for the Scales of the Golden Serpent.

• Kahir suddenly looks apologetic. He must be thinking of the perilous journey we once had.
• Kahir: Does the wound on your back still hurt?

• You: No, the pain is long gone. Have you forgotten? The Golden Serpent Queen removed the poison when she gave you the scales.

• You: Thanks to the elixir from Granny Fatimah, the scar is almost gone.

• Kahir: That's good to hear.

• You: A tiny scar is nothing to fuss about.

• You: It feels like a badge of bravery, something that shows we overcame adversity, together.

• Kahir: It feels like a badge of bravery, something that shows we overcame adversity, together.

• You: You mean Light? He's alive and kicking.

• Kahir: You two seem very close.

• You: (Oops! The words just slipped out of my mouth!)

• You: Oh, not at all. But I occasionally run into him at the market.

• You: Every time we see each other, our conversations always end in a fight.

• Kahir looks troubled, so I decide to change the topic.
• You: Let's get down to business. I'd like to know more about the court poets.

• You: I know there are people who earn a living selling artisanal handicrafts, but I didn't know a person could be employed as a poet. I thought all poets had to earn a living by other means.

• You: Do the court poets write poetry just for the royal family, the ministers, and the envoys?

• Kahir: Court poets do more than write poems.

• Kahir: They represent the highest literary achievers of the Full Moon Kingdom. And they're responsible for collecting and compiling folk literature.

• You: If Idris is employed as a court poet, he'll get to gather folk literature and songs.

• You: Something he already seems to know a lot about.

• Kahir: That's what I was thinking.

• Kahir: Court poetry has become common and uninspired.

• Kahir: That's why I want to employ someone of Idris's talent, someone who will come in and break from the norm.

• Kahir: He could be the one to inspire a revival of the arts throughout the entire kingdom.

• Before long, Kahir and I reach the slums where Idris lives.
• A few women sit by the roadside, chatting while they weave rattan baskets. They eye us warily.

• You: (This slum is similar to the one I lived in. Few outsiders would have visited.)

• You: (These women won't help us find Idris until I've eased their suspicion.)

• I think for a moment and decide to compliment their...

Dress

• You: Your dress is so pretty, madam, and made with such lovely fabric. I've never seen a dress like that in any store.

• The old lady glances at what I'm wearing.
• Elderly Woman: We sew these dresses ourselves. You can't buy them in a store.

• The old lady looks at Kahir. Her brows furrow, and her voice is laden with suspicion.
• Elderly Woman: Were you sent by those slick merchants?

• Elderly Woman: If you want something from us, be prepared to pay in full.

• You: No, you misunderstand.

• I shake my head and hurry to explain.

Craftwork

• You: Madam, the baskets you're weaving are so beautiful!

• You: Do you sell them at the market?

• The old lady skillfully ties a knot then lifts her head to look at me and Kahir.
• Elderly Woman: You're wasting your time if you think you can buy these.

• Elderly Woman: We sold out of baskets during the Manna Festival. These baskets are for our own use.

• You: You misunderstand me. We're not merchants.

• You: We're here looking for someone who lives in the area.

• Kahir: Do you know a poet named Idris?

• Elderly Woman: Idris? That unfortunate man! Yes, I know him.

• The old woman's raised voice attracts the attention of several passersby.
• Young Woman: That man wears the same clothes all year round, and you can smell his unwashed odor from alleys away.

• Man: Isn't Idris that sickly scavenger?

• Man: It's a shame he couldn't find a decent job. Now he's always blabbering on like he's lost his mind.

• Elderly Mna: He hasn't lost his mind, but he does have a mighty temper.

• Kahir: Please don't be unkind. Idris is a brilliant poet.

• Kahir: He's unkempt because he's ill and poor.

• Kahir: The royal family hasn't shown enough care if people around here are still suffering from poverty.

• Elderly Woman: Alas, young man, I see you're a kind-hearted soul.

• Elderly Woman: If you insist on seeing him, his house is the dilapidated one at the end of this road.

• After thanking the old lady, Kahir and I head down the narrow alley.
• We only walk a short while before we hear faint footsteps behind us.
• I turn around and meet a pair of clear, bright eyes.

• Little Girl: I heard you talking... Are you looking for Idris?

• The little girl timidly looks at me and Kahir.
• Little Girl: He's sick. I feel bad for him. Please don't kick him out!

• You: Kick him out? Why would we do that?

• You: You misunderstand. We're here to visit him.

• Kahir: We hope to help Idris.

• Little Girl: Really? You're not going to send him away?

• Kahir: Of course not.

• Kahir gently pats the little girl's head.
• Kahir: We're great admirers of his poetry. He's a talented writer.

• The little girl's face instantly brightens.
• Little Girl: Yes! He tells the best stories. Much better than the ones Mom or Dad or Grandma or even the big kid next door tell.

• Little Girl: He even made a nursery rhyme for me.

• Little Girl: But the other kids make fun of him and call him a "limping monster," so now I'm afraid to go near him.

• The little girl lowers her head.
• You: (A child's heart is such a delicate thing.)

• You: Don't worry. We'll do our best to help him, and we'll tell him how much you enjoy his stories.

• The little girl leads us all the way to Idris's house. She looks nervously at the open front door then leaves.

• You: The little girl leads us all the way to Idris's house. She looks nervously at the open front door then leaves.

• When no one answers, Kahir and I push the door further open.
• The house has no furniture, and the roof is a tattered mess.
• The wall has many crooked and illegible words carved into it.
• You: Oh...

• I see a figure huddled in a corner.
• He's shivering, his thin figure barely covered with sheets of verse.
• ???: Who's there? Go play somewhere else! This isn't a funhouse!

• Idris lifts his head and speaks breathlessly.
• Kahir: We're sorry to disturb you, Idris.

• Idris: Have you come for the rent? Because I don't have it.

• Idris: This windchill is killing me. I'll move out as soon as I'm warm enough to get up and out.

• Kahir: No, no! We're here to visit you.

• Kahir: You look like you could use the help of a doctor.

• Kahir: I can get one for you, but...

• Idris: I don't know you, and I've done nothing to deserve your help. What do you want with an old scavenger like me?

• Idirs: Please leave... *cough, cough*

• Idris turns away from us and leans into the corner.
• You: (He's probably used to people mistreating him and is accustomed to turning people away.)

• I must think of a way to convince Idris to let us help.

Tell him I'm a friend of Sinbad

• You: Idris, we're friends of Sinbad.

• Idris's body stirs at the mention of Sinbad's name.
• You: Sinbad has repeatedly mentioned your talent.

• You: We found your poetry at the Manna Festival and were greatly impressed with your work.

Talk about the poem at the Poetry Fest

• You: We're here because we found your poetry at the Manna Festival and were greatly impressed with your work.

• You: "Both my tongue and my sword are incredibly sharp..."

• As I recite the verse, Idris coughs dryly and shifts his huddled body.
• I walk over and squat down beside him.
• You: If you allow your tongue to weaken in the windchill, it won't be able to pierce what the sword cannot harm. Let us help you, Idris.

• Idris: *cough, cough* Nothing but a few demented words.

• Idris's tone softens.
• Idris: What talent do I have?

• Idris: Half a lifetime of wandering, and all I'm left with is sickness and debt.

• Idris: I have nothing... I am nothing.

• You: I disagree. Your poem is unique, and you're a talented writer. Listening to it allowed me to see a world beyond the desert.

• You: Your words have moved Sinbad, and me, and that shy little girl down the street.

• You: She says your stories are better than anyone else's.

• Idris's back stiffens. With some trouble, he slowly turns around.
• Kahir: Idris, we're here because we were moved by your poetry.

• Kahir: Please let me call a doctor for you. You allowed Sinbad to help you in the past, so why not let us help you now?

• Kahir: In return, you could write me a poem. How's that sound?

• Idris tries and fails to speak.
• Instead, he silently nods.