Observation and Lamentation

The sapphire light of the sun was beginning to dwindle, hiding away in the north behind the volcano, as humans of all sizes and creeds began to pack up their shops and head inside the shining city walls.

Wanderer watched them scurry like ants, rushing to pack up their goods or take what they had purchased home, as if scared of what the night may bring.

“Perhaps they are”, Wanderer realised, thinking back to how the zebra reacted when they were faced with the view of the lights in the desert.

“That's why the walls are so high”, the Golem discerned, “they are protecting themselves from the aurora”.

Proud at having worked out the purpose of the peculiar city structure, the Vessel tucked themself under the lip of a nearby dune and watched the humans, hoping to find some secret to sneaking inside undetected.

That secret did not reveal itself, or perhaps it would have if the Golem didn't immediately get distracted by something they noticed in the crowd of diversely dressed humans.

Amongst the many people, there seemed to be three groups, slaves, slavers and those who aligned with neither.

Wanderer's soul rebelled at the sight of the many slaves in the crowd, most with dark skin, marked by their tattered clothes or their resigned obedience when faced with the barked orders of their “masters'', some even carrying great chains around their necks.

What crushed Wanderer's soul the most, however, was their quantity, for every human scrambling around the marketplace, there was a slave as well.

And of course, where there were slaves, there were slavers, seen in comparatively luxurious clothes and with often more harsh dispositions.

The Vessel watched as a small, light-skinned man assaulted a slave almost twice his size with a ferocity that one would assume was accompanied by a crime of the highest order, when the slave had merely dropped a pouch full of dull coins on the sandy floor.

While the sheer cruelty of that particular man was certainly the exception and not the rule, none of the more moderate citizens nearby made to help, some even managing to ignore the incident entirely.

At first, the Golem assumed that the cruel actions and careless treatment by the slave owners were just how they treated everybody, yet this view was shattered only moments later.

Wanderer saw a human who had been verbally abusing an old man with a chain wrapped around his neck, immediately turned around to speak words of endearment and love to a little girl following along behind him, as if there were no inherent contradiction in his actions.

It perplexed the Vessel, “How can they be so kind to some, yet so cruel to others?”

As expected, their Spirit provided an answer, drawing upon the scene they had just witnessed.

When the little girl was shown the man being abused by someone they obviously trusted, it taught them it was okay, allowing them to go on and abuse in much the same way.

“But why?” the Golem asked, “What difference is there between a slave and a slaver”.

The Spirit could not answer that, they did not know.

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Distressed by the lack of closure and wishing to no longer stare upon the heart-breaking scene, Wanderer inspected the final group they had noticed.

Naturally, when faced with such a binary power dynamic as slavery, there were some who rejected it entirely, and this is what Wanderer saw in many within the crowd.

A good portion of the gathering of frantic humans, many of whom were the merchants that were selling their final wears, wore the more refined clothes and comfortable faces of those who were not crushed under the weight of servitude, yet they themselves also rejected placing that burden upon others.

Despite the fact that they had the apparent empathy not to subject others to the imprisonment of slavery, for whatever reason that may be, none among this minority ever stood up for those who were robbed of their freedom.

While most completely ignored the happenings around them, at best sparing a regretful glance at those being punished or assaulted, Wanderer’s vision did happen upon one who was not so callous.

He was in a similar garb to the man who saved his life back in the caravan tent, differing only in the colour of their clothes, while their taller saviour possessed brown and green clothing, this man's was a lighter tan with deep blue highlights.

Even without this clear distinction from those around them, Wanderer could tell they were a foreigner merely by the look of utter overwhelmment they possessed at the yelling shopkeepers and bustling hordes.

“They must come from a more relaxed place”, the Golem thought.

The foreigner was being escorted by two people, a man with heavy, regal clothing guiding to the front and another human in a dark stone mask following alongside, spear in hand.

While the guard followed with an imposing gait, the leader seemed to be absentmindedly explaining the surroundings, indicated by how they would occasionally lift a hand in the general direction of some point of interest.

At that moment however, the recipient of this tour was not engaged in the words of their guide, instead focusing on the same, small man from earlier who had resumed his unfair beatings.

The colourfully robed human was visibly disturbed by the scene, and for a moment looked like he was about to speak out against it.

Yet their guide seemed to have sensed their uneasement, and with a pointed look, raised an eyebrow in question.

Cowed, the foreigner shook their head to rid themself of the notion of questioning the brutality, and continued on, doing their best to draw their attention away from the injustice.

If Wanderer’s soul was crushed before, now it was nothing more than a fine powder, despair settling over them at seeing one so close to having stood out for the poor slave, only for them to back down at little more than a look of disapproval.

“Why did they do nothing”, the Golem lamented.

Their Spirit answered, bringing to attention that the man did nothing for much the same reason the Golem did, fear of consequences.

The truth hit the Vessel like a boulder.

“But I would be killed if I went down there”, Wanderer justified, yet they knew it was a feeble argument.

Their Spirit rebutted, bringing to attention that the Golem had no knowledge of whether or not the man would face the same, and even if he wouldn't, the consequences could still be incredibly severe.

“ I should have gone down there”, the Vessel conceded, the total weight of guilt descending upon them, knowing they could have stopped the poor slave’s suffering.

Yet their Spirit replied with something they did not expect, disagreement.

Bringing up Wanderers own argument, they agreed that if they had gone down to the market they would have been killed, pronouncing that they could not free any slaves if they were dead.

The Vessel made to bring up a thought of confusion, but their guide was not finished.

Contrasting their earlier statement, they showed the difference between the man and the Golem, the man was easily stopped, scared of the consequences on their livelihood and comfort.

But Wanderer was not the same, they would not be cowed, and when they could, they would free the slaves, of this the Spirit was certain.

At their companions' message, the Golem’s guilt turned to resolve, and with determination they decided to wait and watch, and when the time was right, they would rescue them.

Yet their mind turned once again to the actions of the children back in the canyon, how unwilling they were to accept any help, even in the face of the abuse they took.

What could the Golem do if once again they were turned away, how could they convince them?

“Surely not everyone could be happy with their treatment”, the Vessel thought, “All I have to do is find someone who is discontent”.

And so, with a plan now in mind, Wanderer waited for the sun to set and the people to disappear, before setting off to sneak inside.