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The Feast of Liars

The Story

In the past of Agartha, within the titanic World-Mountain, there lived a family of liars.

They did not lie out of malice, mischief, or monetary gain, but they lied all the same for one goal: to keep the peace. They were never annoyed at their neighbors, they couldn't possibly fathom dear Miss Barclay looking bad in her new dresses, and they always had a good reason to miss little Duggie's clarinet shows. Of course they did, for they were pillars of the community, and what would be says about them if they didn't clothe themselves in white lies?

There was one who didn't lie in the family, the eldest daughter. Her family said that her eyes, bright and golden like the midday sun, scared of Guail-Màthair, for as a child she had no skill in lying and struggled to grasp the concept, and as an adult disparaged the idea. She despised lying, and certainly found the sylkwyrm web of falsehoods her family wove to be extraneous at best, and lunatic at worst. But whenever she attempted to speak the truth and cut the Iarann Knot, she was treated as harsh and in the wrong.

One day, the Liars had been tasked with hosting a great feast for their neighborhood, and a bounty to match the finest tastes of the community was promised. In their defense, that ostentatious claim was meant to be the truth, as the matriarch and patriarch alike rushed to make sure they had the best food, settings, tapas, and drinks they could find. However, as the midday passed, they found that the wine they had been wishing to serve was nowhere near ready. Their daughter, ever the pragmatic one, simply suggested they be honest about the understandable misfortune, since they had plenty of ales and meads to whet any whistle. This was, of course, shot down, as the heads of the family claimed that if they were found to be fibbing about this, the community would doubt the validity of their past claims! Knowing that her parents would not understand the fact that their constant lies led them to this circumstance, the daughter merely sighed and added fine wine to her final shopping list, and departed the house.

In the market, keeping her mouth tactically shut while passing many would-be guests voicing their excitement for the promised libations, the daughter wove through and began to be worn thin at the lack of fine wine to be found! On a standard day makers all over the mountain would peddle some new cask, but when she needed them most they had nothing to provide. That was until she heard a dry cackle.


"My, my, dearie. Why do you look so down? You gaze as if a piece of coal is stuck in your throat!" An elderly woman asked. The daughter could not see her body, but her hands were wrinkled, with long-claw like nails, and she was covered in robes the color of parchment her flowing like silk, with stains like ink all over them. "Don't you know? There's a grand feast to be had tonight!"

"A grand feast without good wine by the looks of it." The daughter sighed. She hadn't planned to say it, but she could only hold it in so long. "My family, too proud and foolish to give way to honesty, lest their own failings fall upon them, have forced me into a pain of a situation, with no wine fit for our needs in the whole bazaar!"

"Wine fit for your needs? Hmm," the woman stroked her wrinkled chin. "I believe I have something to aid you, dearie!"

"Truthfully? For you look as if you haven't as much as inhaled a copper piece. Ah, but I speak of what I see, not as judgement."

The woman merely laughed. "A golden, truthful soul indeed. I see why your task burns at you, but a woman has many secrets hidden in the world, and I have many talents to help a woman in need. Go, finish your shopping, and return to me at the end, I shall have your answer."

Having nothing to lose, the daughter paid her instructions mind, and finished the rest of her tasks before returning to the quiet alley in which she had found the woman, who now cradled an amber decanter in her hands, with the pattern of a snake carved on it.

"Ah, the truthful dutiful daughter does return! Here, I have your bounty for you! Come, come, allow yourself a whiff." The woman bade her closer and slightly opened the topper. The daughter worried she'd smell something rancid and bodily in the decanter, but instead was hit not only with the scent of a full bodied wine, but with sharp spices she couldn't even name. From just a lingering smell, she could taste it rounding the whole of her tongue, and her heart felt warm and light.

"I do hope it's to your liking."

"Mother's above, that and more! Name your price, my lady." The daughter exclaimed, but the woman laughed her creaking cackle and held her hand up.

"I need not any coin from you, dear. I am a maker, and from making I find life."

"Then what is your conditions? Nothing is free."

"Dutiful and wise as well! You would serve your family well, if only they could serve you first. I only ask two things of you," she began, holding out two of her long, wrinkled fingers. "First, save me a seat at the feasting table, best to watch the festivities. Second, pour my glass first, no matter what."

The conditions were odd, she wasn't even sure if a beggar woman would truly be invited to a feast, even at her parents most altruistic, but she knew better than to turn down free wine of this quality. "They shall be done, my lady. I shall see you tonight!" She said with a bow, before returning home to prepare.


As the party began, and the feasting table was set, the daughter heeded the words of the strange old woman. Although she had to endure many questions, and many more interruptions, as she left one seat empty despite the two-score guests. She didn't lie to them, of course, she merely told the truth, "There is another guest coming, and I have been given direct instructions."

When the time came for the drinks to be served with the smorgasbord of delectable food, the daughter broke tradition, filling neither the cup of her father, her mother, nor any prestigious guest first, and kept her word to fill the strange woman's glass even without her presence. It was then that the daughter noticed that no matter how much she poured from the serpentine decanter, the liquid didn't seem to get lower. Sure enough, even after giving each guest a generous glass full of the spiced wine, it was as full as it was when she opened it. Now, for certain, she knew she was right to follow the woman's instructions.

This was further proven just a second later, when cheers rang through and the wine was finally sipped.

"Oh my, this is delectable!" One guest began. "Unlike the last batch you served, that tasted like dog water!"

Silence fell over the gathered party, save for a stifled snicker. "W-Why, I never thought you'd stoop to such unnecessary comments!" An older man chimed in. "Especially since you couldn't brew to save your life!" He threw his hands over his mouth, but the words came out perfectly clearly regardless.

While the two began to argue, other guests attempted to hold their tongues, but found the words burning hot in their throat. Then, from a diminutive grandmother, came a belch, and a torrent of ephemeral flame carrying the words "You're both whiny little children!" She was the first, but she wouldn't be the last, as flames erupted over and over again, secrets, hidden opinions, and kept truths spewed from almost all of the guests, one after another, all save for the daughter who detested lying.

Even the daughters parents, so dedicated to their web of affable lies, couldn't help but speak their displeasure at the ungrateful crowd, and the most snobbish and judgemental among them. However, despite the daughter taking pleasure in the dissolution of false pretenses, the fever began to pitch to a heat she started to fear. Luckily, the arguing and chaos would soon be cut by a scratchy, aged cackle ringing through the room.

From the still-full glass in front of an empty seat, came that echoing and resonant cackle, silencing all argument in the room as out from the glass came the figure of the elderly woman, wrapped in her ink-stained robes of paper, clutching her stomach as she laughed herself sore.

The daughter knew that she had messed with someone seriously magical, but it wasn't until the most pious of the crowd began to bow and clasp their hands in prayer did the full truth of the situation become known. The woman who had aided the daughter in her time of need was none other than Suaip, daughter of Guail-Màthair and Goddess of Lies, Transmutation, and Fair Trade. But, even though Suaip is the Goddess who rules over lies and liars alike, know that she too is a dutiful daughter that detests lying, and so to invoke her name is not to ask for her aid in maintaining a lie, but to uncover them.

"All lies are laid plain with the right application of wine, one could say, and yet to burst them forth so easily! Even my greatness could not have seen this coming!" The goddess laughed in her mortal incarnation, stopping only to refresh her throat with the wine she had made.

"H-Honored Suaip-Irinn," The patriarch asked, his own throat sore from truth-telling, "T-To what do we owe your presence?"

"Hmm? My presence? Nay, you had my absence, as your daughter saw to! But to transmute absence to presence is as easy as to make lead into gold!" She cackled further. "If you must know the why, know it was your own lies that drew me closer in! A spiders web may catch flies, but a thick net will catch larger prey as well. Also," From the shadows of her paper robes, now clearly pages upon pages of alchemical formulas and secrets, a single eye, as bright and gold as the midday sun, looked towards the long-suffering eldest daughter. "An honorable soul did call for me, even if she did not do so intentionally."

With a snap of her aged fingers, sound was transmuted to silence, and she ended her prank. "Hear me now, all ye gathered around. A white lie for the greater good is no ignoble thing, certainly compared to an inken lie of malice. But, to weave a shawl of them, thick enough to smother the truth? Even if not criminal, such is insanity! Thicken your skins, gird your emotions, and let honesty ring forth, lest you all tie yourself in nooses of falsehood once more."

Silence, embarrassment, and shame came across the silent gathering, until the Goddess snapped her fingers once more. "With the lesson learned, and painfully ingrained, come and feast once more! My Mother's Night should not be wasted, after all!" She said, leading the party into a revelry of honest mirth.

Once the night came to an end, Suaip left as quickly as she came, leaving only a now-emptied decanter as a parting gift for the daughter who called her, and while the neighborhood took some time to find balance between pure, unfiltered honesty and the web of lies they spun before, it would come to settle into peace in due time, as Suaip never had to return to teach her lesson twice.

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Historicity

The Feast of Liars is a mostly comedic, often satirical tale, so arguments of it's historicity are few and far between. That being said, claims are made that it did happen, or that it was based on a real political event in the pre-kingdom years of Agartha. Any attempts to pin the story to one event or another have proven futile or immensely stretched, however.

Narrative Mutations

Given it's nature as a more comedic myth, many tellings either acted or written will include satirical references to ongoing public arguments, or the author/actors stance on certain issues. Some writers, however, take the base story of The Feast of Liars into a far more grim telling, with Suaip sending the party into further madness rather than the educational revelry of the common tale. Furthermore, some tellings remove Suaip's lesson entirely, instead having the ephemeral fire be literal, punishing the party goers for every lie, leading to a bitter end for the eldest daughter.

Significance

Suaip-Irinn is not the most influential Goddess of the Pantheon, as the daughter of the oft-maligned Guail-Màthair, but she does often show up in trickster roles in comedic stories such as these. However, in the modern day, her exact presence has been reduced to a less deified character, likely to include her in stories that would be messed up by throwing an entire Goddess into, known as Granny Swap. This mortal reskinning has gone through deviations of her own, leading the lines between her and the Goddess she once was to grow wider with each retelling. However, as the Goddess does still remain worshiped to some capacity, one must imagine she enjoys seeing the character live her own life.

This story also made Fire-Licked Wine, a heavily spiced sweet wine, into a thematic product. Aside from being enjoyed in the winter or alongside savory meats, it has gained a connotation when served that some truth needs to come out, or conversely that everyone can speak truthfully. Many servers at luxury diners and taverns fear a stern-faced woman ordering the wine for a nervous male compatriot, and pray that they aren't about to lose dishware to a fit of rage.


Comments

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Jun 30, 2025 13:34 by Keon Croucher

Now that is a well woven myth. It hits all the notes, and drew me in. The wine, an elixir of truth some might say, a wonderful touch. And the story itself, the lesson, one might say the moral of it, the lessons it offers are strong ones, and ones well worth learning.

Keon Croucher, Chronicler of the Age of Revitalization