After months of preparations, our plan finally came into fruition. For years, our government had oppressed our country, forcing our people into an unjust fate.

We lucky few who weren’t blinded by their sweet words had bided our time, gathering connections and resources to reclaim power from those blackguards. Then, in a stroke of fortune, a great famine racked the nation.

The leader of our group, seeing the writing on the wall, decided that now was the right moment. He rallied the disgruntled masses and marched on the capital with their support.

It should have worked.

It had to work.

However, unfortunately for us, they were prepared. Whether warned or through rumors heard didn’t matter at that point; it was the same in the end. Their forces mowed us down like ants, and we, along with our supporters, were forced to flee. Some of our group escaped; most didn’t.

Then the most peculiar thing happened.

~ ~ ~

Now here I was, boldly facing the opposition.

With but a singular thought in my mind.

“I’m screwed.”

This was supposed to be the easiest part.

After years of hiding, our efforts were meant to amount to something more substantial than this. But now, seeing my comrades being detained one after the another, I felt my prospects were becoming more grim by the second.

I probably should have thought more about the fact that I was never really much of a fighter before charging in. In hindsight, our sheer numbers replaced all sense of reason within me with an irrational zeal. Although even if I wasn't alone, I really doubt that they could do anything to stop the two hundred pounds of pure muscle storming towards me.

I instinctively closed my eyes, raising my hands in a feeble attempt to shield myself from the blow.

I braced myself for the hit.

But nothing came.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself in the middle of what appeared to be a rural, agricultural community. This was a surprising change of scenery compared to the imposing, grand figure of the nation’s capital. The street were filled with people and sounds that were entirely divorced from the setting where I was previously.

“What?”

“How?”

I thought to myself as I scanned the nearby surroundings.

I appeared to be on a dirt path which bisected the settlement, along which various stalls selling were wools, meats and other various agricultural products.

As I regained my bearings, I felt the weight of a few curious stares from the people around me, adding to my growing confusion.

My tan complexion and modern clothing starkly contrasted with the more mediterranean complexion of the onlookers along with their tunics and robes with a more ancient design.

Despite the clear difference in attire that made a distinction in time period between me and them, I thought at first that I had been sent to some kind of concentration camp for political subversion.

Closest to me, I caught a glance at a man in his thirties staring at me with a bewildered expression on his face. I thought to ask the man in English “Where am I?” in an attempt to glean some information about my current whereabouts.

This question seemed to have puzzled them. I didn’t know what about the question would puzzle them, because it seemed pretty basic to me. Even if he didn’t understand the question at least he should have recognized that it was indeed English.

However, in response, they answered my question with another question, one that confused me instead.

It wasn’t because of the content of their question, because I couldn’t understand a word of what they said. But rather, the language that they used to ask it.

I’d like to say that I’m decently versed in the languages of the world. If I can’t recognize a language, I can at least take a guess at where it’s from.

However, the specific language which the man used to speak was beyond me.

I couldn’t even begin to guess what language it could be.

To the untrained ear, it could be misconstrued for Arabic but it felt less guttural and used more consonants than it normally would. It also shared some similarities with Hebrew but the language the man used felt less fluid and more clipped compared to what I would expect.

Despite its few similarities with more recognizable languages, I could confidently conclude that it didn’t belong to any that I knew of.

Feeling the pressure of the small crowd that had formed around me, I knew that having their attention for too long wasn’t to my benefit. Knowing this, I walked quickly into a dark, quiet, nearby alleyway wherein I could regain my composure.

Away from the town’s prying eyes, I had time to ponder my current circumstances.

Where am I?

How did I even get here if I’m sure that I didn’t lose consciousness at any point?

I could not answer these questions, and they instead just resulted in even more panic for myself.

Realizing the futility of this line of thought, I put it off for later.

Remember what they taught you, what do you need to do now?

In an effort to keep my thoughts productive, I recalled what I needed to do in times like these.

First, I need to find a source of food and drink. It wouldn’t do me good to starve before I can figure out where I am.

Second, I need to find temporary housing. I can’t afford to get stabbed or mugged while I’m here.

Not that I have anything anyway to be mugged of at any rate.

Once I do those things then I can focus on getting my bearings.

How exactly will I do those things?

I stroked my chin as I pondered for a moment until a thought popped in my head.

Oh, it’s pretty obvious but I know what to do now.

I need to find a job.

I realized that the most reasonable course of action was to find a job for myself. This would hopefully enable me to have both shelter and a source of sustenance.

The only marketable trait I had with me was my knowledge. So I needed to leverage this in order to make do for myself. Though this was predicated on the biased assumption that I had more useful knowledge in a specific area compared to everyone else.

I don’t think basic chemistry or physics knowledge would help at all here.

I don’t know how to make medicine so that’s out.

Maybe math could help someone? Provided that they aren’t very proficient with arithmetic or algebra, I could work for someone who needs it.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

It’s better than nothing, I guess.

As I stood up, I decided on a course of action. I would try to get a job wherein I could use my basic mathematical prowess to work for an employer. Based on my what I predicted, the plan would surely work as intended.

If I could communicate it properly, that is.

Standing in a nearby alley near the main street…

Two figures cloaked in shadow were preoccupied with conversation.

“You sure you saw where he went Qaton?” asked the taller of the two men as he narrowed his eyes. His sturdy build contrasting with the thinner, more lean figure adjacent to him.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Qaton replied as he racked his mind thinking of any details he may have overlooked.

After some thought, he said “He went running into the alley next to the wool merchant.”

Despite the obvious power imbalance, they seemed comfortable with each others’ presence and both spoke in a trusting albeit somewhat panicked manner indicative of their bond.

Darat, puzzled, inquired further.

“Where’d he even come from anyway?”

Qaton responded

“Honestly, I don’t know. I was talking to one of our associates, you know him right? Shur, I think his name was. Anyway I was talking to him and one moment the street was normal, the next I saw a strange looking boy with people gawking at him.”

Darat frowned. “Do you think he’s one of those Zi that are looking for us?”

“There’s no way.” Qaton dismissed.“He looked way too different to be one of them.”

Darat scratched his chin and said “There’s always a chance he’s one of their spies from the North.”

“Maybe that’s true, but we have no real way of knowing for sure where that Hamet(foreigner) came from.” Qaton reasoned.

”Then maybe we should ask him ourselves why he traveled all the way here.” Darat suggested with a dangerous grin.

Qaton groaned, clearly seeing where this was headed. “Oh, not this again.”

The two men then set off seeking to give the Hamet a little “chat”, a plan which the man Qaton begrudgingly agreed to.

In the main street….

I don’t think I was in my right mind when I thought “Wow I’m so smart I should use math”.

I unfortunately realized early on that the plan I came up with definitely can’t work when all I can do is gesture vaguely with my hands.

I seemed to be in a rather arid village, as dry as it was quaint. It had at most two-thousand people living within its borders. And if I were to guess, one could walk from one side of the village to the other in at most forty minutes.

I don’t think this town is very welcoming to outsiders, seeing as most of the people I’ve “spoken” to just spoke in a hostile tone and brushed me off. Though, I can’t help but notice that all of them used the word “Hamet” at least once while they did so.

I’m guessing it’s probably some derogatory word or something.

I tried to pitch my “math” idea to several vendors who looked like they could help. They all dismissed me like was said previously, but the latest one had the most memorable reaction.

The man I tried to deal with is a burly man who was some sort of butcher based on the various meats and sausages located around his stall. His face flushed red, veins bulging as he yelled at me to leave.

His anger could probably be attributed to the fact that most his customers were weirded out by my presence and went elsewhere.

Most of the people I’ve dealt with simply ignored me and just gestured to leave when I tried to advertise myself. But this man’s short temper, in contrast to the rest, made it so that his reaction was to throw a fit when I tried to get my point across.

As I tried to reason with the man, out of nowhere he clenched his fists and threw a punch at me.

My immediate reaction was “OUCH THAT HURTS”.

His punch in the face sent me flying to the ground and gave me a throbbing feeling in my forehead. As I quickly put my hand to my head in pain, I could feel that there weren’t any bruises or fractures at least.

Based on his fit of violence and his hateful expression, his intent was quite clear.

“Leave now or else.”

I walked away but while his head was turned towards another customer, I quickly slipped a few coins lying on the counter into my pocket and beelined out of there.

You may judge me for it now, but in the heat of the moment I felt that he had it coming after the punched me out of nowhere like that.

Unfortunately for me, it was not long after that when he noticed what happened and started yelling which caught the attention of a group of six people who I could only describe as knights walking by.

The strangest thing about them was their armor, based on how it curved it looked about as flexible as leather armor. The thing that made it strange though was how its color was as metallic as plate armor. The men were dressed in the stuff from head to toe with only thin slits giving them the ability to see.

Even before anything happened, they stared at me probably because of my strange attire. Then when the man started yelling in my direction after noticing the theft, they looked at us both and then charged at me with murderous intent. I’m not sure if they were the equivalent of police officers in this town or just vigilante citizens but the only thing that I knew for certain is that I needed to run.

Before they reached me, I swiftly located a stone I could throw to delay them. However despite the rock looking like it would at least faze them temporarily, the armor made a clunking sound metallic clunk as the stone shattered into tiny pieces without causing any damage.

Realizing my attempt failed, I frantically dropped the coins in an attempt to stop them from chasing me. Unfortunately, this did little to convince them to stop going after me but instead it attracted random passersby who scrambled to pick up the fallen coins, inadvertently blocking the path for my pursuers

That lucky distraction gave me a small head start, and I bolted into the narrow passageways between the buildings, hoping to lose them in the maze-like alleyways.

Five minutes later…

They are right behind me.

Though I had a sizable lead on them when I first started running, my unathletic body was no match for their agility and speed.

Now, I was on the precipice of falling into their grasp with only a few minutes more until my legs tired completely and I would collapse.

“At this point only a miracle could save me.” I thought.

Just as I was thinking this, the strangest thing happened. A lot of strange things happened that day, but what happened next might take the cake.

I ran into yet another alleyway with the only difference being that this time there was a rather slender man holding what looked to be a blowpipe leaning on a nearby wall.

I ignored him and continued running but suddenly reached a dead end.

As I came to terms with my current situation, I realized I had no hope of escaping now.

Then, the men quickly caught up to me and I was subjected to a multitude of brutal punishments.

The end.

That is, at least, what I thought would happen.

Instead of that, the slim man placed the pipe he was holding to his mouth, and with multiple quick breaths shot six darts one after another at the men. As they flew by I noticed a sort of silvery liquid, not unlike the men’s armor, attached on the darts themselves.

I looked back and I saw that the darts had somehow cut into their armor like butter, after which the men groaned in pain and then quickly went unconscious.

I tried to gesture to the man as a symbol of thanks, but his eyes were focused on something directly behind me. When I looked where he was, I saw a giant hulk of a man, one who looked like he would be right at home in a wrestling ring. At the same time that I turned around and looked at the large man, I felt a sharp pain in my back coming from the man behind me.

The stabbing pain quickly faded amidst a growing wave of drowsiness taking over. Then after a few seconds I eventually succumbed to a state of unconsciousness just like the men I had just seen.

A few minutes before, on the main street…

What is he doing?

After he and his companion split up to find the Hamet , Qaton chanced upon the boy, tailing him from a distance and wondered what his plan might be.

He watched as the boy tried to communicate with various stall-owners and watched as he desperately tried to use hand gestures while mumbling in an incomprehensible tongue. It all just baffled Qaton who wondered where he came from.

If his plan was to piss off all the people he talked to, then he was succeeding. Otherwise it seemed like he was having difficulty in whatever he was trying to do.

One thing was clear to him at least, the boy definitely wasn’t a spy or at least wasn't trained to be one. The job of a spy was to gather information while remaining as inconspicuous as possible, the boy failed on both fronts. If he was a spy, he was definitely the worst of them.

After around thirty minutes had passed since he started watching, he curiously observed the boy as he interacted with a man selling various meats. After the man’s customers began to leave the butcher started yelling about how competition had lessened his customers and how the Hamet was discouraging business.

After the Hamet ignored his warning to leave and instead continued making hand signs, the butcher then threw a quick jab which caused the boy to spiral to the ground.

The boy finally got the message and started leaving, but not without stealing a few coins on the counter in a show of spite. This angered the butcher who started yelling at the boy to come back and return the coins. Which, in turn, spurred nearby Zi foreigners, who were investigating local crimes, to chase after the Hamet. The same Zi forces that were looking for the smuggling ring that Darat and him were a part of.

Being a local, he knew this town better than the Zi and the boy they were chasing. He knew that if the boy continued on the path that he was taking, he would eventually end up in a dead end. Fortunately, Qaton knew a shortcut. By climbing a nearby ladder and running across the rooftops of the buildings, he managed to get to the dead end before the boy and his pursuers did.

He got seven darts from a pouch tied to his waist, dipped them in a silvery liquid and placed them in his pouch for the time being. He waited for a bit and sure enough the boy and the Zi that were chasing him appeared, he reached for the darts and one by one the Zi fell and went unconscious, the silvery liquid allowing the darts to glide through their armor and inject the tranquilizer that was built in to the darts.

The Hamet tried to make a gesture of thanks to Qaton. Just then, his partner arrived. And as the boy turned to face him, Qaton took out his last dart and shot him.

The boy’s body slumped on the floor and his partner walked up to Qaton

“How did you get here so fast?” Darat asked with a note of disbelief.

Qaton pressed a finger to his lips and whispered “It’s a secret”

Darat, clearly frustrated, replied, “Maybe you could share this secret sometime. I saw the Hamet being chased, and I had to run all the way here.”

Qaton responded with a hint of sarcastic sympathy, “Poor you.”

“Anyway, so you brought the pipe darts with the Alham and mercury?”

Darat inquired

“Yes, I did. Just in case”.

Qaton replied

Darat looked at the unconscious mens’ bodies with concern and asked:

“You sure they are fine? “

Qaton reassured him, “I’m sure, mercury alone can kill but when mixed with a bit of Alham, it’s harmless.”

Darat nodded in understanding, “Alright, alright. I’m guessing we need to bring them back to the compound.”

“No, just the boy.” Qaton specified “We just need to know why he’s here. Taking the Zi would garner too much suspicion.”

“Sure, let’s go.” Darat agreed.

“Throughout it all I am left with one question:

Who is this boy?” Qaton wondered to himself.

Last edited: 16/09/2024