“It is something no man has ever been able to describe. No scholar, no saint, and no poet has ever truly portrayed it well enough. It is the exact thing I will try to explain, no matter how much of my life it will consume.”
-
Sedulous attention is required to navigate through these streets on such a crowded day. The market, which occurs every Saint’s Day, fills the streets of Tor Zumna and leaves a compact amount of room for those who wish to trek through. This weekly adventure should not be as foreign as it is for me, but I am met with the same throbbing heart in my throat, pushing me to make my way through the market without a word. I repeat the same steps as the prior week, the same schedule I follow every day. Once I leave my home, I must go right. I follow the tree-lined Vikranna Street until I reach the inner-city gates, from there I turn left. As I move along, I must sharply turn right and descend down the precipitous staircase. I then will hug the wall, going left, until I reach the clinic. For such a prestigious and famous clinic, the outcast location, shadowed by the towering governmental buildings nearby, has always been a shocking-factor for me.
On days like these, days of the market, these carefully planned steps are forgotten. I only have one mission: get to the clinic in one piece. Whether it be the dismal weather or the proximity of the King’s coronation approaching, the population of the market was minuscule compared to most on this day. While I still found myself weaving through the individuals, I did not feel as claustrophobic as usual. I followed along the weathered stones that created the road beneath me. Turn left. I attempted to ignore the loud shouts from desperate local merchants. Turn right. I found myself slowing down, walking behind an elderly elf and what seemed to be her grandchild. Turn left. I quickly passed the duo, allowing myself to descend the staircase and arrive at the clinic. It had an open-air entry, but the air always seemed to grow colder once I stepped in and the humidity quickly depleted. I pursued my way to the basement entrance, collecting a branch of grapes from the staff counter as I paced my way.
“What are you in such a hurry for?” A familiar voice called, but shivers still rippled down my spine. Upon further glance, a slow turn, and a final loud swallow of my first grape, I saw it was my mother; Solana. Most greet their mothers with a smile, or even a hug, I often greet mine with a nervous and awkward posture. Ever since I became a young man, I have spent countless hours perfecting the understanding of our local flora, yet this leaves solemn time to interact with my family. I can often be heard excusing myself for missing out on family dinners, family ventures, or even apologizing for forgetting important dates. I gently cleared my throat.
“Just trying not to be late, mother.” I quickly blurted out.
“Your shift does not start for another five hours dear.” Solana added, pacing herself closer to me. I stared up at her height, something so impressive, yet something so common for me that I rarely make note of it. Her hair fell so kindly onto her shoulders, waving itself down to her hips. She could never harm a soul, but when she speaks to me like this, I swear she could.
“I know, I am well aware of that.” I caught myself, trying not to completely talk back to my own mother. “I only needed to check on my research.”
“Is it research if the data you are searching for has already been found?” She added. I hated when she mentioned this.
“It has not been found- at least not in the correct-”
“Do not talk back to me dear.” She softly said, exactly what I was afraid of. “Simply answer the question, I need not hear your excuses.”
“No, the data I want has not been found.” I simply said after a splinter of silence. She soon was an arms length away from me, placing a soft and gentle hand on my shoulder.
“Just promise your mother and I that you will be home for dinner, we have important news to share.” She offered a small smile, much different than the prior look that threatened me.
“I promise”
“Thank you dear, now get to work.” My mother concluded the conversation, offering a small grin to let me know that I was in no real trouble, but she meant it whole-heartedly. I swiftly turned around and marched my way down to the basement.
Futile flora offer no means to me when I am in this room. You will find not one strand of grass, not a single calyx of a flower, and not one other thing that you would ever find in your average garden within my basement. The cracks in the stone walls allowed for plenty of moisture and humidity to leak into the room, benefiting the plants and annoying anyone else who enters. The barred high-windows facing from the front of the clinic offered an ample amount of sunlight to the verdant life within the cellar, shining directly on them whenever the sun rose. Due to the early hour, the sun was warmly embracing the herbage that inhabited the many rows of brimful wooden boxes and vases. I made my rounds, watering many of the plants, inspecting others, and taking note of many. Whilst we used many of the herbs provided in the basement in the clinic, their various other uses were unknown.
As I made my way down the row of flora, I finalized my tasks at the last plant, the Black Jhandra. The black-leafed plant with a red apex visible on every leaf has received a bad reputation within the world of Amarian, believed to have been used to poison enemies of noble families across the region. I always watered it from afar and kept an eye as to not accidentally touch any of the seven leaves it possesses. Donated to the clinic after one of the Queen’s voyages, it is believed to be the only Black Jhandra surviving to this day. While many protest the idea of having such a deadly plant in a facility that is symbolized by health, wellness, and life, it is also believed that the plant possesses some kind of medical beneficial factor, one that I will attempt to extract once I find the way.
-
In order to work and maintain your composure after an oversized and rushed shift at the clinic, you must be a god, this is why I believe my mother to be a god. As I am still a learner of the skill and practice, I simply sit myself in the corner as my mother performs various operations and I silently observe. While I could spend my hours watching how she threads skin back together, removes arrows from wounded soldiers, or even clears the questions of the medically concerned, I would much rather pay attention to how gracefully she conducts all of it. She will return home tonight in the same condition she had left the house this morning in, with the same warm glow and the same piercing smile. I often find myself observing these details for hours, until I am instructed to go home.
“Zuriel, dear, you may go home now. I wish not to keep you any longer. I will catch up, do not leave your other mother waiting, do you hear me?” My mother spoke as she rinsed her hands in a nearby pale of water. Without a word, I would quickly nod and find myself pacing outside of the clinic, back into busy, albeit calmer, streets of Tor Zumna.
Once I found myself outside of the market, I could hear light footsteps quickly approaching behind me. Guessing that it was some child asking for a Roso to purchase something from the market, or a greedy merchant attempting to stop me to buy their product which couldn’t possibly be like any of the other products at the market, I quickened my pace. I was soon pushed, rammed into by a larger figure from behind and nearly losing my balance. After I straightened myself, I would sharply turn around with furrowed brows. A recognizable girl stood in front of me. It was not her dark skin, it wasn’t her tall frame, nor was it her bright auburn eyes that made me realize who she was, it was her voluminous dark red hair that made my eyes widen. The same hair that accompanied itself throughout my childhood and even into my own contemporary times. It was Elyon.
“Did I scare you?” She said as she collected her breath, making it evident that she had been trying to catch up to my pace for quite some time now. She flashed a smile at me, showing off the absent front-tooth that has been missing ever since I met her as a young boy, I suppose it has never had a chance to grow back.
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“No- no worries Ely.” I simply stated, still collecting myself. I have never been one built for such a scare. I leaned towards the street, indicating to her that we should carry this conversation while walking. After some dramatic hinting, she finally got the idea and paced alongside me. The air was awkward around us, likely being caused by many years of absent conversations. Ever since we grew, we had drifted apart. “You must inform me, where have you been?” I Asked.
“I could ask you the same thing. I used to see you scurry up and down these streets constantly throughout the days, but now you seem far too cooped up with your work.” She said with a bitter but nearing sad tone, to which I offered her squinted eyes and an upset expression. “Tell me that I am wrong.” She quickly stated.
“And what if I am? Now, answer my question before we truly start arguing like children.” I threatened, not sure who would start a quarrel first.
“I have been training with the King’s guards.” She folded her hands atop one-another, resting them in front of her stature.
“That is great Ely!” I snickered, knowing she had always wanted to be a fighter of some sorts. I pointed towards a light scar on her right arm, one she had obtained when ourselves, along with a few other juveniles, were fighting with swords in the woods long ago. “That was worth it, was it not? It made a warrior.” I chuckled. Her expression did not change.
“It was not. They said I am nowhere near fit to be a guard.” She offered a small sigh. “They said I would make a better baker with how gentle my hands are.”
“I apologize…” I dipped my head and frowned for her before I continued, still making a hasty pace as we continued down the boulevard. “You could attempt to be a guard in another kingdom, could you not? Rondheim is always looking for any guard, you could start there?” I offered, to which she responded with another sigh.
“As a Halfbreed? Zuriel, they slaughter Halfbreeds in Rondheim nearly every day, I could never.” Elyon responded. She was right. Her father being a Tarfolk and her mother being an elf made her both a Halfbreed and an enemy of Rondheim. For what reasons? It was unknown, only merely a belief I assume.
“I fear that you are correct.” I nodded once more, eventually approaching the large blue doors that signified my parent’s house. The rowhouse was tall, three stories in height, with white moss-covered stones lining the outer-walls and large water-stained windows, along with many flowers being apparent in the patches of dirt in the front. The door was wide open, with my mother, Phi’hara, waiting whilst leaning against the door. Her expression was stern, quickly eyeing Elyon as we approached. My mothers had never been the biggest fan of Elyon. Whether it be her Halfbreed status, her family’s wealth, or the trouble she had caused for me as a child, I never quite understood it but I never dared to question it. Phi’hara only jolted her head to greet Elyon.
“Elyon.” She said, returning her eyes back to observing the girl.
“Phi’hara.” Elyon nodded back, then returned her attention to me. “I will leave you now, do stay in touch Zuriel, I beg of you.”
“Likewise Elyon, farewell.” I offered a small smile, something she returned before she quickly hurried off. I would turn myself, facing my mother as I paced myself past her and into the house. “Why are you waiting outside of the door, I have never seen you do such a thing.” As I found myself inside, within the entrance room which we used for dining, I could see the small dining table covered in candles and a beautifully cooked meal. “What is this all about?” I turned to question Phi’hara.
“I believe your mother informed you, we have something quite important to discuss, something I do believe to be exciting.” She muttered. I have never heard someone mutter the word ‘excited’ so it caught me off guard, not understanding if sarcasm was mixed into her dialogue or not. I simply responded with a soft hum, before she soon interrupted. “How is Elyon?” I was shocked that she asked.
“Questionable. She got denied a position as a guard for the King. It has made her upset but that is understandable, is it not?” I swiftly grabbed an apple off of the table, taking a firm bite into it before my mother responded.
“So I have known. I informed the King to tell his guards to give her an extra strict time. It serves no use if a non-elf is able to easily enter the Court of Guards, what would that say about our kingdom?” She closed the door behind her, quickly making her way into another room but her words were loud enough to follow me. I was offended by what she said, but I wasn’t one to spoil a surprise like the one I was about to receive. Phi’hara has also commonly been far more strict than Solana, so I feared her more. Fear and love are far too similar, and that is something I have always disliked.
“I am a non-elf, you do know that, do you not mother?” I questioned with as sweet of a voice as I could make, as to not argue with my own mother. She soon returned to the room with more candles.
“I know that, I was the one who convinced your mother to get you in the first place.” She placed the candles on the table, speaking of me as if I was some adopted pet. “Tor Zumna is an elf kingdom, Tarfolk have Valitia, orcs have Rondheim…” She paused for a moment, observing if I was upset or not. I was. “You get my point child.” She ruffled my hair, not even smiling as she did. I was not a child, so I have always assumed she has called me as a verbal souvenir, to sulk in the moments of when I was younger, and didn’t argue nearly as much. I only sighed, seating myself at the table. Soon enough, rain would pound itself against the doors and windows of the home, merely a few seconds before Solana arrived. She would enter, embrace her wife, and soon sit down. She was covered in rain on the outside but scattered with nerves on the inside, offering me a nervous and shaken smile. She tore off a piece of a large loaf of bread, passing it around the table. Once it reached me, she began to talk.
“You must be overly curious as to why we are having such a dinner, are you not, Zuriel?” She questioned, her smile only growing.
“I am dying to know.” I joked, half-full with sarcasm. The discussion with Phi’hara kept a sour taste on my tongue, and it prevented me from being fully excited for what was to come from this dinner. Soon enough, my mothers exchanged looks, seemingly discussing who wanted to deliver the news. It had obviously landed on Solana. She finished her piece of bread, eating a raspberry as well before she continued.
“We have found a suitor for you.” She said quickly, jumping up from her seat. She paced herself to me, wrapping me in a tight hug. It was the kind of motherly hug that embraced every part of you, especially your heart. But I was not excited to receive this hug, I was confused.
“What do you mean?” I questioned quickly, to Phi’hara stood up, walked next to us, and answered.
“One of the finest King’s guards, he has offered to marry you. It is a great honor.” Phi’hara said. It did not feel like a great honor, it felt unplanned and rushed. Planned marriages were not common whatsoever within this kingdom, or even in most elven customs. It has been seen in many noble or royal families, but we were neither of such. I cleared my throat, trying to seem excited after seeing the joy it brought to my mothers eyes.
“What is his name?”
“ Ivaran Neritris. He is your age, you often played in many social circles together as children, do you not remember him?” Solana questioned, still beaming a wide smile and still wrapping me in her long arms. I assumed this was from one of the many infant-social events my mother took me to as a baby, something I could never even attempt to remember, but I would nod my head in order to please both of my mothers.
“I do, I absolutely do remember him.” I lied. The only thing I recognized about him was his surname, a name of one of the few noble families within Tor Zumna.
“He was in the clinic the other day, and how dreamy he was!” Solana fawned. “He mentioned he was looking for a spouse, and I quickly offered you. I hope you do not mind dear.” To which I shook my head.
“I do not, mother, do not worry.” I lied once more, remaining in her hug before she eventually let me go. This all felt foreign to me. Yes, I am 22 years old, but I wish not to rush into my adulthood as quickly as this. My mind spiraled, I did not know this man and I was destined to wed him? I felt nauseous, close to vomiting.
“We will arrange for you two to meet, but you must represent our family well. He is of noble blood, I do hope you know that.” Phi’hara added, staring down at me.
“I understand… I understand.” I repeated, holding onto my stomach as I nodded. I quickly turned, my heart racing as I did so. “I shall go to bed, my stomach is in knots… I am just so excited to meet him!” I lied. “Thank you both, I will not disappoint our family.”
“Goodnight dear, tell the stars how you wish to see him soon!” Solana exclaimed, a callback to when I used to pray to the stars as a child. This reference was commonly used within the Wysalynn house, and it only annoyed me even more time after time. After I wished both parents goodnight, I made my way up the stairs. My room, the first door on the left, was still the same as it was when I was a child. The inner-walls, painted a dark blue with many yellow stars scattered across, and the outer-facing wall, the same white stone that showed on the outside. Although it was messy with plants covering almost every open area I could find, it still found a way to represent itself as neat. I sat on the bed, catching my breath and pinching my skin in order to slow my heart. Would I no longer be Zuriel Ramara Vitally-Wysalynn? What if I found myself not to like him? What if he was far too entitled, as most nobles in this city are? I would continue to question myself with these thoughts throughout the night, not once receiving a solid hour of sleep. Will it ever be the same?