The world was no longer contained in a single small area. With the dissolution of Octavian’s empire, people began to trickle away from the birthplace of man. New kingdoms were founded and new kings crowned. In the furthest reaches of the domains of man there was a small kingdom. Every facet of life in this kingdom was based on the idea of obedience. The shamans obeyed the stars and the kings obeyed the shamans. It was an intricate trickle-down, and it permitted no disobedience, no responsibility, no identity. That's why the man who forged his own was so fascinating. All I have of him is his journal. He caused no great waves, made no great changes but he did accomplish something miraculous. He said no in the face of absolute authority. If only I could do the same.
The Kanu’tak kingdom was a peculiar place. Obedience was elevated to such a level that identity itself was a far-off dream. They were puppets dancing to the strings of the lifeless stars. I didn't like them. They reminded me too much of my earliest failures. Emotionless and slow. Jaul was born a prince among them and grew up in their empty palace, full of empty people. But he was not empty. He dreamed and he thought and he spoke. And he was silenced. A kingdom of obedience had no room for new ideas. Obedience was conditioned in him, same as any other citizen, but he had a personality of his own, a path. Perhaps that's what made me so interested in him. Humanity is a social creature, prone to following the lead of others. Manifesting the nature of one's soul and finding one's path is incredibly difficult, even in civilizations that actively encourage such things. To even approach such a thing in a society that suppressed individuality and freedom was an impossible feat. Jaul’s path wasn't grand like Micheal’s nor endless like Adam’s. Instead, it was one of simple gardening.
He would walk among the farmers, learning their craft.
“Why do these plants grow?” He would ask.
“The will of the Stars, my prince” would come the reply.
He found the answers unsatisfying and embarked upon a great journey.
The creation of his own garden.
He loved his garden more than life itself and he would experiment with crossbreeding plants long before anyone else discovered it was even possible. He recorded every experiment in a ragged journal he had found, and he recorded his life. The boredom of living with only hollow shells, the excitement of finding a new plant, the beauty of the rising sun. I watched as he sweated and worked and celebrated.
One day, Jaul went outside to his plants, same as always, and immediately froze. Immediately before him one of the palace servants was curiously poking at one of his plants. She was around his age, with short black hair and coppery skin to match his own. That was where the similarities ended. She had pale blue eyes, to his rich earthy orbs, and was missing part of an ear. Most importantly, he saw the spark in her eyes, that glimmer of life that was buried so deep in the rest of the people here.
He was still gaping at her when she saw him. Immediately her demeanor changed. The spark retreated and she quickly moved to bow to the 7th prince of the Kanu’tak.
“How may I help the lord?” She recited mechanically.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Jaul managed to sputter out a choked “What are you?”
“My name is Spenca, my lord.”
“No, WHAT are you? You are not like the rest. You’re…like me”
Icy blue eyes met coffee orbs and two paths intertwined.
For that day going forward Spenca and Jaul were inseparable, gardening and talking for hours basking in each other's company. I watched with curiosity as two souls danced through an infinity of puppets, defining themselves among nothing. It was fascinating. Over time, as was natural, love began to develop between them, a romance of soft kisses and hidden embraces.
One day, as they held each other, Jaul spoke,
“I want to get married”
Spenca immediately broke his grasp and stared at him with wide eyes.
“I know the difference in our stations” Jaul continued “but how could I live without you? Tomorrow I will ask my father.” He paused, “...If you want to.”
Spenca gazed at him uncertainly, “Are,” she swallowed, “Are you sure?”
Jaul raised her face to his, “More sure than I have ever been.”
Spenca’s uncertainty melted into a radiant smile, an expression of pure joy,
“Yes. Yes, I want to.”
The next day found Jaul leaving the throne room, a distraught expression on his face, the final words of the king echoing through his mind.
“No.”
Jaul returned to his garden and mechanically went about tending them. I watched him, his lifeless eyes, stiff movements, and the slow tears that ran down his face. He looked like a man who had given up, but I knew better. Those tears were not for Spenca. Inside a battle raged. The perfectly synced laws of obedience clashed with the vibrant life of plants. Law and authority pressed down upon them, assuming the mantle of divine fate itself. But life always found a way, evolving and growing to meet its new challenge. Man frequently thinks himself good, without understanding the meaning of such a statement. He states that he would cling to the same principles, no matter the situation, never pausing to think where he got those principles from in the first place. To be good is a measure of conformity. Few realize how much power their upbringing holds over them. And fewer still break those chains. Within his very soul, Jaul fought for his path. Life and growth fought with the obedience that made up his world. Evolving and growing to shatter the chains of civilization itself. Hardly any realize the magnitude of such a struggle, the bleeding rents it leaves in souls and minds, yet here was a young boy ripping his very soul to shreds for the woman he loved. Finally, the chains began to falter as understanding dawned on Jaul. He looked at his filthy hands, caked in dirt and fertilizer.
“Life obeys not the whims of man” he whispered, “Why should I obey the commands of the celestial?”
He looked at his garden with new eyes, seeing for the first time the disorder within its orderly rows. Reflecting on his incorrect hypotheses and his failed experiments. His path crystalized, a winding road of twists and turns, of life and death, of parents and children.
“The plants bow to nobody. Neither shall I”
It was remarkable how just his plants alone granted him the insight to shatter the fetters of man.
He lived true to his path, embracing life, in all its twists and turns. The spring bloom that brings life to the earth and the winter storm that scours it away. He married Spenca, and that night they danced through his garden to the blooming of the spring flowers. The next morning, the winter storm came.
Both Spenca and Jaul were executed for disobeying the king.
Actions have consequences and while the chains of civilization restrict man, they also ground him. Obedience is the essence of organization and it condemns those that know themselves.
I spread Jaul’s path into the plants he loved.
The shackles of society bind the wills of the free.
But life always finds a way.