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Haja, A Merchant's Apprentice
Chapter 11: Reason d’etre

Chapter 11: Reason d’etre

Why is Kasanova Rojora still in Medalia, you might ask? It is because of his son.

December 24th 330 RPT was the day, that Imogyeran Ashenwald ‘lost his life’

Kasanova might not be a good guy, but he did not hide his life from his own children, which is why

Kasim learned of Imog’s ‘fate’ a total of two months ago. The Rojora-family did sent out a few search

teams, that scouted out potential places, where a human could survive at for a couple of days, but they

were without luck.

Kasanova also made sure that any sightings of the boy within these two months would immediately be

shared with him. In his experience, the most dangerous kind of enemy was one, that persisted even

after one thought, that they killed them.

It was Kasim’s reaction, that surprised him.

*SLAP*

His own son slapped his father’s face in the middle of dinner and left the room without a word. Kasim

went back to Medalia and did not return.

When Kasanova traveled there by himself, this is what Kasim told him:

<<7 years. You took the culmination of 7 years of life away from this world. The least I can do is repent

for those 7 years you took away. Now go away and do not show yourself in front of me for a while.>>

At that time, the seasoned veteran and father had been shocked. His own flesh and blood exhibited an

honor and pride, that he had never thought possible of him.

But simultaneously, there was another thought inside his head.

Was it truly the act of repenting for his father’s mistake? Or did he possibly think, that the boy had

survived the fall?

Whatever the case, Kasanova Rojora decided to take accountability for his actions. He temporarily

sublet his position as leader of the Rojora clan and settled down inside of Medalia village, outside of

Kasim’s eyes.

Both warriors dedicated these years of their life to the sword and nothing else. One to repent for his

father’s mistakes and the other to respect his son’s decision.

While Kasanova lived as a single inside a small inn, Kasim lived together with his childhood friend

Kassandra Klefaria. Both of them were getting along really well and there was a clear, romantic

relationship between the two of them. It was also becoming clearer and clearer, who in this relationship was calling the shots:

*Whip*

Kassandra was the one giving out the orders

*Whip*

While Kasim was happily receiving them.

Even for this time period, their relationship was definitely outside of any social norms. But hey, as long

as they enjoyed themselves

*WHIP*

nobody would dare to interfere with them.

Due to his special ‘training’ Kasim developed a well-toned and pain-resistant body capable of dishing

out strong sword-strikes and pivoting his entire weight into each step.

His rapid growth was also directly attributed to the frequent sparring matches between himself and the

one-in-a-million-genius Kassandra. Her style of fighting using thin threads to control her enemy made

the girl a strong opponent for the normally simplistic fool of a swordsman. Typically, she liked to use

thicker ropes in their sparring matches, because her thread techniques were specially designed to

mutilate her opponent, which in itself is not the best way of sparring with someone.

Their sessions (during daytime) became a spectacle for the Medalian residents making them popular

fighters of the village.

Kasim later went on to win the next three Insigniae in his age group. From time to time he would also

fight with against the newly spawned Hablamak, the talking monster, though, after a certain point in

time, Kasim did not win a single battle against this beast of a giant.

It’s skin was simply harder than his sword and he eventually settled down trying to challenge the

monster in earnest. Honestly speaking, Kasim enjoyed the life advice, that Hablamak gave them.

They ranged from existential questions down to practical application of techniques discussed in minute

detail. Every time Hablamak opened his mouth (not really a mouth, but that’s besides the point), he

would never just give out straightforward advice. All his advice was clothed in a layer of language and

two layers of wisdom. This year, Hablamak has become immensely popular and many warriors

intending to win the Insigniae Magnae decided to have a match with him. Hablamak did lose the

occasional bout against people, that were exceptionally strong or exhibited especially disadvantageous

fighting styles, but with each battle he fought, people could feel his rapid growth, both in wisdom and

in strength.

There are even small fan clubs admiring the giant’s power.

Today is a day like any other. Kasim just got up and healed some wounds from yesterday’s ‘battle’.

After clothing himself in some comfortable clothing, a black combat-suit with a silver neck-protector,

Tight-fitting leather pants in light brown and dark-wooden boots, that look extremely uncomfortable

from the outside but are designed with utmost interior comfort. Everything is covered in five layers of

friccicos.

Wearing a small wooden hair-holder, his hair is neatly tied into a knot, giving him a feeling of maturity.

The 13 year-old young man is ready to fight another battle with Hablamak and ready to be beaten to a

pulp. Looking back, he sometimes wonders whether something went wrong inside his head regarding

his affinity to tasks that cause pain in various forms, but he disregards this thought fir now.

Taking a leisurely stroll through the main entrance of Medalia and slowly making his way towards the

Canyon bridge. Every step he took strengthened his focus like a knife being sharpened. Slowly but

carefully.

100 steps left. Like a bow being put under extreme tension. This type of style is the result of Kasim’s

years of focusing solely on the sword. It is almost like a ritual before battle.

50 steps left. Hablamak typically recognizes any noise, that is this close to him. Kasim’s steps lose their

weight. He is now a feline predator, waiting to pounce on his prey. A bent back, tense neck and a sword

in each hand. His left hand is holding a small, sparkling dagger, while the right hand is using the same

sword he has been using since 4 years ago.

*Toss*

Kasim tosses the dagger into the air and immediately hits it with his sword like a baseball being hit by a

bat.

*Ka-Clank*

The dagger flies into the air, reflecting the sunlight and sparkling like a Christmas-tree.

Simultaneously Kasim starts his sprint. Feet are kept afloat, balancing on each singular strand of grass

like a large plateau to walk on, Kasim takes a detour around the bridge area and tries to covertly and

swiftly attack from behind the enemy’s attention.

20 steps left. The enemy has not noticed him, Kasim can feel Hablamak’s gaze on the dagger and he

can hear the prepared attack, that is going to snatch his dagger out of the air.

His pace does not slow down. On the opposite, it only seems to increase!

10 steps left. Hablamak must have noticed his approach, preparing to change the landscape beneath

their feet to stop Kasim’s stride.

4 Rock formations sprout from the ground, lining out 5 potential paths he could take, down to the exact

curvature. But Kasim is aware: These Rock formations are a double-trap.

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Using the path predetermined by Hablamak will lead to your doom. Using the Rock formations created

by Hablamak as a path will lead to your failure.

Kasim strengthens his calves and legs, focuses his mind on the stride he originally wanted to take and

keeps his trajectory, smashing through the rock formations in asymmetrical fashion. Simultaneously,

his sword is dragged along with him, creating a whirring sound. The young warrior has etched several

holes into the sword, making the wind pass through them and controlling the wind to boost his reflexes

for a stronger swing. This technique is based on spirit-channeling, which makes it hard to use in excess.

The swing whirs through air like a deadly gale, erecting barriers at this distance is not possible. But

Hablamak does not try to retreat or evade.

Hablamak’s giant body forms a giant fist on his still turned back and stretches it out onto Kasim’s

sword.

*CLASH*

A clashing sound like a chainsaw clashing on pure Mercury can be heard!

The result of the clash was obvious from the beginning: Kasim’s sword’s upper half breaks in half.

But instead of being discouraged, the warrior continues following through with his attack, ducking

beneath the giant fist and regrowing his wooden sword while advancing forward. This maneuver will

only work once before his mind cannot keep up with the strain of doing that. It’s do or die!

While expertly dodging the dangerous rock formations on the ground and rushing through the softer

ones with relative ease, Kasim brandishes his sword once again, now shaped like a rotating disk,

similar to the chains of a chainsaw.

The impromptu construction must have been practiced countless of times seeing its complexity. Raising

his sword overhead for a last attack, the new sword-arm takes in the momentum of his stride and the

wind around it to accelerate into a spinning motion, like a modernized stone-cutter a loud whirring is

heard, Kasim’s boots create sparks as he shifts his entire weight into this one attack!

A cutting sound!!! – is not heard!

Hablamak uses the debris of destroyed rock formations to disrupt the new tool’s air-ways, stopping it

from taking in enough momentum. Simultaneously, two new hands sprout out of the giant Golem’s

body, blocking the paths of retreat. The residual stone debris is used to slowly block Kasim’s path of

retreat and he has no other choice than to still gamble on this last strike!

*CLAAAANG*

The force with all his weight behind it strikes Hablamak’s body with a power of a hundred horses and

the blade once again breaks against his solid body!

The duel is over. Kasim has lost.

<

prepared for you. Yet you instantly recognized my attack’s weakness before it could land.>>

<

better choice?>>

<<… >>

Kasim kept silent. This was Hablamak’s teaching time and if you did not know how to answer, it was

correct to keep thinking until you could think of the answer yourself. After a while.

<

concerned about these two parts, whereas a tool needing a thousand parts needs a lot of work to work

properly when it has to. Am I right?>>

<

thousand times. Humanity after two generation has proliferated that much less. Which is the better

choice?>>

<<… >>

Once again Kasim kept silent for a while. If you compare the technological development of humanity

between generations, it should be obvious that the more highly developed generation would win.

But at the same time, the emphasis laid in the word ‘proliferation’, meaning, that you should take the

numbers into account as well.

<<… Even after procreating for a thousand generations, I think that humans would not have as much of

a numerical advantage over the ones after two.

Humans are too greedy to just let each other grow and multiply without their own benefit.

That said, they should still outnumber them by number and power. Due to technology.>>

<<… >>

It seems, that the lecture has ended. What Kasim has to do now is project this piece of knowledge onto

the problem with his sword and fighting style.

Kassandra is going to have to help him a lot, now. Last fight against Hablamak, it took two week for

the two to understand the advice.

Typically, what should happen now is that Kasim should go home and Hablamak would simply stare at

the sky. But today, something unusual has happened.

<>

Hablamak starts holding a monologue.

Kasim freezes on the spot, sits down on his knees and listens to his (kind of) mentor.

<

Like a fish not seeing the river that gave birth to it.

Like a newborn not understanding the mother’s painful throes of agony before birth.

Anxiety, Loneliness, Anticipation. Are these feelings of the creator or the projection of the created?>>

<

without a reason but still desperately searching for the reason of said love. A thousand units pass and

another thousand and another thousand. Yet it is the same as though only two units passed.

Is every unit worth its worth only when every unit proves its worth? To what degree? To what respect?

In the end, only two units matter to me. Because I am the result of these two units of mine.

Could it have been three? Four? Or perhaps Five? It doesn’t matter, because I have dedicated myself to

these two units. Contained inside, I have been nourished by these two truths for this very moment.>>

Kasim was late to notice it, because he was entranced by Hablamak’s poetry, but Hablamak started to

crumble. Over his large body, tears began to appear, slowly *Crack* but steadily *Crack*, one after the

other *Crack* it looked like Hablamak was falling apart.

Kasim immediately jumped up and tried to do something, anything, but he was interrupted by

Hablamak’s speech continuing.

<

units, as color starts fading, mixing together and mixing together, as the body of earth enveloping us,

like a marble of dirt keeps existing.

As the sky starts feeling humid, dry, humid and dry, as the seas start becoming the sky, the sky becomes

the earth and as the earth becomes our sea.

As we become bird, fish or mammals wanting nothing but keep to our origin like a mother mothering

its craving child.

I have waited for you, my creator. What is your reason?

What is your reason for centering my world, your reason for robbing my reason, your reason for

bestowing love, hate, anger, happiness and sorrow? What reason could you have? Cut off a piece of

your thoughts to prove the existence before you. I do not demand. I do not request. I simply ask.

Why was I born, Creator?>>

*CRACCCK*

As more and more cracks started appearing in Hablamak’s body, Kasim finally realized, what was

going on. He turned around, slowly. His gaze being guided by the splintered rocks, forming a path

ascending to the top of this canyon.

On top of the path, there was a single existence, slowly walking down like a being of a higher origin.

Small in stature, discolored feet, bruises on its entire body, malnourished to the bones through flimsy

racks of clothing. Through the dirt, grime and ugliness of nature, a pair of red looked down upon them.

A red like an abyss, cold and detached like a being above their understanding.

Wearing a smile on his lips, he descended from heaven.

*Step* *Step*

Every step was light like a feather but filled with a weight that seemed to crush Kasim under its feet.

*Step* *Step*

The boy did not pay him any attention whatsoever. Smiling coldly and warmly at the same time, the

man continued on his descent while eyeing his creation.

<>

Arriving at a point far below Hablamak’s eyes, Imogyeran Ashenwald sat himself down on the stone

path and started speaking.

<

give birth to me? You must have had a similar experience to me.>>

As he spoke, tears started dripping from his still smiling face.

<

about her, so I do not know why she gave birth to me. My father. My father was the one, who raised

me. He did some terrible things to me, which I will never forgive. But one day, my father decided to

take his own life. It was at the same place, where I laid asleep. I thought it was a dream at first but after

a few years, I started remembering it again and again. The last words of my father. “I love you.”>>

The boy, that descended from heaven, started shaking violently in resonance to Hablamak’s

deterioration.

<

say, that he loved me? Was I born as a result of love? Was I loved when I was born?

Or was there anything else? If I could ask my parents one question, it would probably be this. Why?

Nothing specific, just why?>>

The gigantic Golem had already fallen apart, leaving something in its core, a pair of eyes, looking at

Imogyeran’s face. An emotionless face. An emotionless cry. Creation and Creator share a striking

resemblance in that aspect.

<

throw you away? Why did I love you? Why?>>

<>

Imogyeran broke down crying, while keeping eye contact with the being in the rubble.

<

Object! You Were Not Special! WAAAAAHHH!>>

He could have chosen many answers. “It’s because I loved you.” “Because I wanted you to be strong.”

“Because I wanted to see you be different.”

Imogyeran said none of these things. He told his creation the words, that he had wanted to hear, no

matter what. In a sense, Imog told this being his own truth.

<

Sorry!!!>>

Kasim decided to retreat on his own. After being gone, Kasim made a contract with himself, which

deleted all the memories of what happened at this place ever since he attacked Hablamak. Kasim did

not possess the right to hear this story. The only thing he kept inside of his head was this:

Imogyeran Ashenwald has returned.

Hours pass as the group of beings remain stationary within the canyon.

Dogogo, Yunran, Gondo and even the evolved ‘Aran’ all gather together to create a safe space for the

two people to talk.

<>

A voice came out from where the two eyes were located. The voice was high in tone and elongated in

frequency, like a croaking frog. But at the same time, there was something capturing the listener’s

attention within his voice.

<

falsehoods they have had. My life has been a series of truth, falsehood and indiscernible facts.

They shine in unison, creating a constellation. Each constellation stands for a different part of me.

The entirety of those constellations is what makes a person themselves. Their trajectory decides how a

person develops, while their proximity to other people’s constellations and these collisions decide, how

people will change each other.>>

A figure walked out of the rubble. Smaller than Imog’s arm-length, build out of glistening rock. One

could make out rough, rectangular feet, uneven legs with a hinge-like structure at the presumed knees’

back, a torso, that slightly protrudes to all sides, arms made out of the same, slightly shiny material in

three separate parts each. A hand crafted out of 18 separate joints combined together. A short and fitting

neck.

On top, a small, bald head with black marbles for eyes and a black mouth without lips or tongue was

staring at his creator.

<

heart with my life. I have seen what I wanted to see; I heard, what I wanted to hear and I will say what I

want to say, the primal and sole truth, that I decided to live my new life on.>>

<>

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..

..

<

your name. Now, you are in need of a new name. I hereby name you Raulo Raolu, short-form Raul!>>

(Raulo Raolu: Ra-u-lo Ra-o-lu , Raul: Ra-ul)

Hablamak has been his name given to him by the people. ‘Raul’ has been his name, given to him by his

creator. Now, he has been given a new name. Or could it be that his original name has been given a new

meaning? Anyways, this were Raul’s first and most important words for the future:

<>