Chapter 1: Humble Beginnings
Standing in what seemed like an endless queue to enter through the north-western gate of Guarai City was proving more challenging than expected. Not because of the hot summer sun beating down on my back, which curiously made me feel more rejuvenated with each passing moment, but because of my fellow travellers in the queue.
A large array of differing types of beasts of burden pulled all sorts of carts, carriages, wagons, and occasionally carried saddlebags. People from all walks of life were in the queue, and I even spotted the occasional demi-human among the crowd.
The cacophony of noise from the increasingly restless rabble was setting the guardsmen on edge. Although calling them ‘guardsmen’ was a bit of a misnomer in this case, as I had yet to see a male in the guardsmen armour.
The crux of the issue was no one else was dealing with the summer heat as well as I was. They were all sweaty, tired, and irritated, which wasn’t doing their tempers any favours. It was compounding an already tense situation.
Seeing the guards struggling to maintain order, though mildly amusing, indicated that dealing with such a large and unruly crowd was a rare occurrence for them.
Even the preferential treatment I got for being a ‘noble’ wasn't much help in this case as the fast-track queue I was in had huge carriages encircled by umpteen number of private guards. While the checks here were much laxer, it was by no means any less laborious.
‘Should have waited for the morning rush to disperse.’
Being a rather small city, Guarai didn’t have the resources or a large enough guard force stationed at her borders to properly police them around the clock. That meant the entry gates were shut at dusk and only opened again at dawn. There were obviously exceptions to the rule, but they were few and far between.
I had managed to make it to Guarai’s perimeter wall by nightfall yesterday but then found the gates to already be shut by that point. I had briefly contemplated trying to find alternate, less than legal means of entry. But I had decided to bury that idea.
If I started disregarding the rules just for convenience's sake, I would bring dishonour to the values instilled in me during my upbringing.
I had had a restless night out in the open, camped at an old, deserted campsite. It had probably been used by the less affluent travellers to the city if they ever needed to wait for entry. Smart of them to abandon this particular campsite though. Its location next to a gentle stream, although a great site for access to fresh water, was also an ideal site for the breeding of mosquito and drak fly larvae in the summer months.
Needless to say, sleep remained very illusive for me being surrounded by a buzzing, biting swarm. Dawn could not have come any sooner.
Curiously, even though I had gone nearly a whole day without food I still wasn’t actually feeling any hunger pangs. Small mercies indeed. The night hadn’t brought much respite otherwise. Not from the flying parasites and definitely not from my own thoughts.
I had tossed and turned trying to find a moment's rest, but it wasn't meant to be. My memories had kept revisiting the times when I had competed in blood sport arenas ostensibly as a means to earn enough money to support myself and my aged father. But in my heart of hearts, I knew the truth.
I had always had a talent for violence. What had initially been a desperate gambit to earn a few coins had been transformed into an exhilarating ego-stroking exercise after I had tasted easy victory after easy victory. I had known instinctually I was physically superior to most of my peers. Those early matches made me realize just how big the gap actually was.
All my life I had been made to feel like an outcast, like I didn't matter. But in the arena, surrounded by the cheering masses, I felt important, superior even, almost like a king. That heady sensation was addicting. I would have continued along this trajectory if my newfound fame hadn't reached my father's ears.
I had broken my father’s heart that day. He hadn’t needed to convey his disappointment with words or actions. I was so ashamed that, in penance, I had sworn an ‘oath of silence’ on the spot. I spent three days kneeling at the entrance to his room in our dilapidated home, without food or rest. Despite his efforts to stop me, I had remained resolute, determined to show him how deeply sorry I was for having disappointed him.
After recovering from my self-inflicted ordeal, my father sat me down and shared his past in greater detail than ever before. He had been a gladiatorial slave for most of his life, witnessing the worst of humanity and reluctantly embracing it to survive. When he finally earned his freedom, he swore to seek redemption.
Finding me had almost seemed like divine providence to him. His one chance of achieving salvation through me. By providing me with an opportunity to be a better man, something he had been denied most of his life. My ears had burned red with shame. The life father had shed blood, sweat and tears to escape I had accepted with open arms because I had found it convenient.
I was jolted back to reality by a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I saw a pair of knights guiding their war horses on foot, motioning towards the queue. It had moved a few feet in my distracted state.
Nodding in understanding, I moved to catch up. Deciding to strike up a conversation, I turned to face the knights. “Is it always this crowded in the mornings, sir knight?” I asked, my tone deferential.
The knight on the right shook his head replying “The line for the nobles is usually much shorter. It's always like this around the time of the parade’s arrival.”
Seeing my non-comprehension, the knight elaborated, ”They’re here to suck up to the high justice leading the parade. Probably hoping to curry favour in some matter.”
‘Always a bigger fish to kowtow towards,’ I thought, feeling both impressed and disgusted by the behaviour of the cream of Eldorian society, all vying for the attention and favour of the powers that be.
“Wouldn’t they have an easier time going to the capital to meet him though? I asked, slightly bewildered by this rationale.
“You’d think so, but it's much harder to bribe and influence officials in the capital without attracting the attention of the crown," the knight replied, his tone clearly indicating his dissatisfaction with this state of affairs. He apparently took his oath very seriously, and turning a blind eye to blatant corruption was visibly rankling him.
The knight on the left, who had been silently observing me with a hawk-like gaze, finally spoke up. “You seem rather young to be traveling alone, squire. Where is your master?”
Oh, now I remembered whose clothes I was wearing. Although why I was dressed like a knight’s apprentice was still a mystery to me.
Hang on a minute, was I a squire to some knight? It would explain how I knew how nobility talked, but there were major inconsistencies with that reasoning. Weren’t squires themselves supposed to be nobility in most cases? Although, there were some rare exceptions, I guess. What vexed me most was my age; squires were supposed to be young. I wasn’t, even though I looked it.
“I was sent on a pilgrimage by my mentor, sir knight. He has judged me to be ready.” My continued need to lie made me squeeze my hands in agitation.
That seemed to pique the knight’s curiosity and suspicion “Why come to Guarai specifically, young squire? Only very small temples dedicated to the storm, the earth, and the sun are established here.”
I hadn’t known that. I’d managed to talk myself into a neat little corner.
“My mentor informed me that a great fire sage may soon visit Guarai’s sun temple for a time, sir knight,” I said, keeping my tone steady while internally grimacing.
Strangely enough, I knew I hadn’t misled them about the fire sage part. I was confident I qualified as one, even though I hadn’t been officially recognized. So, since I was planning to lay low for a time at the sun temple to gather my bearings, technically, I hadn’t lied.
Half-truths and obfuscations seemed to be much easier for me to stomach than outright fabrications.
I racked my brain, trying to remember—had I know Guarai had a sun temple? Yes, I was sure I had. So, had I heard about it from someone, or had I visited Guarai sometime in the past? This could potentially be very problematic for me as I was committed to this path. To be fair, though, I was sure I wasn’t overly familiar with the city.
“Oh, you have an affinity for the flame arts then, young squire?” the knight on the right questioned, his interest piqued by the direction of the conversation.
“Yes, sir,” I responded, glad the discussion was shifting away from dangerous topics.
“Not many places in Eldor can provide good instruction in mastering its advanced forms. The gods must really favour you.” He said, with an almost wistful smile on his face.
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I felt my heart skip a beat. For a moment, I felt something... something unpleasant, just like yesterday. The silence stretched on, and I realized it was becoming awkward. I rushed to reply, “Fortune is thankfully on my side for now.”
I tried to mask my unease, but I must have failed, as I saw the knight with the piercing gaze narrow his eyes. “Your master is quite well informed it seems, young squire. Which company did you say he is posted to?” he asked. It seems his doubts about me had only deepened.
As I was racking my brains for a satisfactory answer, the guardsmen called me forth to be searched for contraband and complete the formalities for entering the city.
‘Whew, saved by the bell,’ I breathed a sigh of relief.
Taking my first few steps into the city left me feeling a bit underwhelmed. The streets were narrow and meandering, with small, old buildings tightly squeezed together in a hodgepodge mess. The open drains lining the streets didn't do much to improve the ambience either. The hit of nostalgia I got viewing this urban squalor was something else though.
My first order of business was getting myself a change of clothes. While yes, the attire of a squire was better than anything I had worn before, and it allowed me to role-play as a noble, it was drawing a bit too much attention for my liking. Sooner or later, I’ll slip up. There were already too many close calls.
The added benefit of selling these garments was that they were worth a small fortune. I could use the extra coins to tide me over for a few weeks, which would be a godsend in my current circumstances.
‘Better to quit while I’m ahead’
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The bazar was a hive of activity, with the merchants loudly hawking their wares, creating a cacophony which echoed through the cobblestone streets. Brightly coloured tents and makeshift stalls lined the way, overflowing with exotic spices, fresh produce, and handcrafted goods. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, baked bread, and a medley of perfumes. Children darted through the crowds, playing a simple ball game, their laughter mingling with the shouts of the traders.
Navigating through this vibrant clamour, being careful to avoid the townsfolk who were mostly haggling passionately with the merchants and the occasional stray animal weaving between the legs of the crowd, scavenging for scraps, had been challenging to say the least.
For the better part of an hour, I had been trying to find a reasonable merchant who wouldn't swindle me upon realizing my dire circumstances. The problem was that merchants, by and large, were shrewd and opportunistic. Only the most ruthless and cutthroat managed to survive and thrive in their profession, after all.
I had tried to use my noble persona on a few merchants, only to be found out quickly. Still, most of them were more than willing to buy the squire's clothes I was dressed in, despite suspecting I had stolen them. The problem was, they all drove a hard bargain and wouldn't budge an inch. They recognized I was a soft target, desperate for money, who they could fleece with no repercussions.
If they were willing to deal with suspected thieves, expecting them not to exploit a stranger's desperation would be too much to ask.
“I’m sorry your, ‘nobleness’” the clothier said slyly while indicating towards the attire I was wearing “Five coppers and a new set of clothes is all I am able to offer you for those.”
This was the sixth merchant I had tried my luck with. As soon as they had an inkling, they weren't dealing with a real squire, all genial pretence vanished, and they started short charging me to the gills.
“You sir, are being unreasonable” I said, my frustration leaking through “These fine arteficed silks are worth at least a gold coin a piece.”
The merchant shook his head in an exaggerated motion “Ahh, but not just anyone will buy and wear those. I will need to find another squire to sell them to.”
“I may look young, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Scavenging the material from these clothes to make other attire is a relatively simple process. I am sure the tailors you source your merchandise from could do it in less than a week,” I challenged his assertions vociferously.
My poor upbringing had imprinted in me the fine art of haggling and identifying when I was being taken for a ride. The streets were a harsh teacher, but they taught valuable lessons.
The merchant’s face had gone an unhealthy shade of red as he snarled “Five copper coins and a change of clothes is my final offer. If you keep pestering me, I will need to have a little talk with the city guard to find out where your ‘nobleness’ acquired those clothes.”
I was shaken by the clothier’s threat, but I managed to keep my composure. It was vital I not let it show that I was worried about his threat in any way.
“You could do that, but I wouldn't recommend it,” I said matter-of-factly, holding up my hand towards him as tiny golden-red flames started dancing on my fingertips.
I belatedly realized I had not refuted his claims, which to his already burgeoning suspicions must look like a tacit acceptance of guilt on my part. Well, it was too late to go back now.
The merchant’s face paled rapidly as he realized he was not dealing with some petty thief. The smallest of sparks would have his entire merchandise, and hence his livelihood, going up in flames. Of course, he didn’t need to know that I would not follow through on my implied threat regardless. I was a better man than that.
It was still a deterrent I would have preferred not using in the first place. But I was feeling pressured, and I needed to get my bearings soon but if push came to shove, I would leave this city behind and try my luck somewhere else.
Seeing the clothier back down, I decided it would be best not to push the matter further. I had managed to cow him for the time being, but for how long, I couldn’t say.
Leaving the tiny shop on the main street of the bazaar, I was greeted with an almost festival-like atmosphere. The sun had lost some of its potency as the afternoon was on the verge of transitioning into evening.
I could see more families with little ones in tow among the crowds now. Many of them were crowding around the street stalls selling those strange flags and wooden standards depicting the samsara.
I wasn't sure what they represented and why they were being sold in such numbers, but I felt assuming it would be related to the coming parade in some way would be a safe bet.
After asking around a bit, I was directed towards a particular narrow alleyway where I was told I'd find a cluster of textile traders.
The main street of the bazaar had been a bust. No merchant here had been willing to deal with me fairly, and I was getting disheartened. I was loathe to try my luck in the side alleys, but it seemed like I had no other choice.
As I made my way through the narrow, winding alleys of the bazaar, I was quickly reminded me why I had been trying to avoid these seedier sections of the bazaar. I could see gangs of miscreants seemingly absorbed in a game of chess, discretely analysing me as I made my way past them, probably assessing whether I would make for an easy target.
My fake identity was my only shield against these hooligans. I'd seen my share of such people growing up—always eager to target the weak and helpless, but quick to turn tail at the first sign of someone who could put up a fight.
As I ventured deeper into the underbelly of the bazaar in search of a clothier or draper, my attention was drawn to a small crowd gathered around a speaker standing on a barrel like a raised dais.
"Hear me, friends, and heed my warning," he yelled in an impassioned tone. "Beware of the great scourge, whose deep black shadow looms over us all, for it shall be reborn by the actions of the sinners, and the heathens, and the adulterers. Their vile deeds and debauchery are a siren call for it and will lead it back from the deepest, darkest corners of the void."
Taking a deep breath, he eagerly scanned the crowd for their reactions before continuing. “The fell omens have been made abundantly clear: a blazing star with a fiery tail that scorched the night sky, followed by the sun being swallowed up by shadow, plunging the world into an eerie twilight.”
Hearing the agitated murmurs of the crowd, the doomsayer, in a soothing and magnanimous voice, said, “Fear not, friends. For I have journeyed far and wide, to the mighty ziggurat temples of the gods and the small shrines of the divine in far-flung corners of the world. I have met the saints and sages to acquire the knowledge to…”
I left the area in a hurry, not interested in the slightest in the doomsayer's pitch. These sorts seemed to ply their trade in smaller settlements where the major religions had weak sway over the population. They capitalized on the fear, anxiety, and insecurity they themselves stoked for making sales of knick-knacks. It was the oldest trick in their book.
Though I had to wonder what this bogeyman he referred to was, or if it was even real. Probably some half-forgotten local legend meant to scare children into behaving themselves.
As I delved deeper into the bowels of the bazaar, the number of establishments, stalls and foot traffic gradually dwindled. In step with that, the general upkeep of the area also worsened the further I travelled from the main street with putrid, clogged drains, broken roads, ramshackle buildings and a pervasive air of squalor.
Just as I was about to give up and retrace my steps in order to try a different branching alleyway, I spied a small textile shop tucked in the corner. When I got close enough, I saw a small group of what I presumed to be merchants sitting inside on carpets around a hookah, from which they were occasionally taking a smoke from.
Making my way into the shop, I was greeted by the most blasé display of indifference as they continued playing their card game, with occasional raucous laughter interspersed in between, completely ignoring me.
I audibly cleared my throat to grab their attention “Excuse me, is the proprietor of this fine establishment present here?”
After an awkward silence, a woman who looked to be in her middle age, with greying hair and sharp grey eyes, got up and approached me. “Need something, boya?” she asked.
I could see her scrutinizing me from head to toe. While I detected an interested gleam in her eyes, her expression remained unchanged, which was an oddity; all the merchants I'd encountered so far had been more than happy and even genuinely excited to deal with me until they realized they weren’t engaging with some money bags noble.
If I had to guess why that is, I'd say something about my mannerisms clued her in, or the fact that I had travelled so deep into the seedy underbelly of Guarai to find a clothier.
“I’d like to exchange these exquisite clothes I am wearing for a basic outfit. Please give me the remaining value in coin,” I requested, half expecting to be disappointed once again.
“I’ll give you eight silver for those and a change of clothes,” she stated simply, not bothering to inspect the garments at all.
It took considerable effort to stop my mouth from hanging open in surprise. “It’s a deal” I managed to croak out in a muted voice. I did not want to appear overly eager, but I was internally heaving a sigh of relief for not having to haggle anymore today. It was definitely not something I enjoyed doing even though it was a necessary skill in the larger settlements.
Still, something didn’t quite add up. Having grown up on the streets, I had never known a merchant who was so willing to offer a fair price for a product—and so readily at that. Merchants not trying to manipulate prices during the sale or purchase of goods was unheard of as far as I was concerned.
Without missing a beat, the clothier beckoned me over and said, “Follow me.”
She led me into the back of the shop where the male tunics and trousers were stored. With practiced ease, she started pulling out various garments, holding each one out towards me before selecting the ones she thought would fit me best.
“Where did you acquire those, boya?” she asked almost nonchalantly, but the way she positioned her head indicated her attention was focused squarely on me.
“They were given to me” I hesitantly, replied. I hadn't stolen them at least, I think. I didn't believe myself capable of resorting to that.
“A very generous gift indeed” the proprietor remarked with a knowing look which I studiously ignored.
“Yes, it was,” I said not elaborating further. Something about this establishment was rubbing me the wrong way. I couldn't pinpoint it exactly. Maybe it was how apathetically they were behaving with a prospective customer, or maybe it was how all the merchandise in the shop was not cared for properly, as I could see it all had a very fine layer of dust on it. Maybe it was a combination of those or how un-merchantlike the proprietor’s behaviour was or something else entirely, but I was wary of her and her cohorts.
I felt miserable; my father had taught me to always look for the best in people, but I couldn’t shake my suspicions. I tried my best to second guess myself and give them the benefit of the doubt.
“Get changed,” she said, indicating towards a small curtained-off section in the store.
Quickly changing into the grey coloured cotton tunic and trousers, I exited the changing area and gave over the squire uniform to the clothier, who handed over the agreed upon silver in exchange.
As I made my way to the exit, I was being tailed by the merchant. I noticed the rest of the occupants were still seated, engrossed in their card game without a care for us.
When I left the premises of the shop, the clothier thanked me for the patronage, but the way she scanned my face made it seem like she wanted to ask me something else but restrained herself.
As I departed, I could feel the proprietor’s gaze on me until I left her field of view. The seedy sections of the bazaar gradually faded behind me as I navigated through the winding streets of the city.
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Later in the evening, blending in with the rest of the commoners in my rough spun cotton attire, I found myself standing in another long queue. This time, it was in front of the sun temple, along with the devotees who had come to offer their prayers at sunset, which was supposed to be the second most auspicious time of the day for the Faith of the Sun, right after sunrise.
I had spent an hour mapping out the city after leaving the bazaar, trying to jog my memory. I was certain I had briefly passed through here before losing my memory.
My attention was drawn back to the queue of devotees I was part of. The temple guide had made his way to me. I was glad for the peasant outfit I had acquired, as it offered me a level of anonymity.
“Why have you journeyed here, young spark?” asked the priest in a grandfatherly tone. It felt a bit too practiced to be very genuine.
“I have journeyed from afar to learn the ways of the Faith of the Sun, priest” I said making sure to tailor my voice adequately to display courtesy. A good first impression went a long way in building healthy relationships after all.
“Oh, have you, young spark? Are you willing to devote yourself to our exalted god Sol Mekal?” he inquired, his voice taking on a solemn, almost sacred tone, though it still carried the air of repetition, as if it were a well-worn mantra he recited countless times a day.
I wasn’t paying him any attention anymore. My ears had popped from the sudden, violent spike in my blood pressure, followed by hearing a pulsating high-pitched whine in tempo with my heartbeat. I bit my bottom lip so hard that I drew blood, but the pain offered me some clarity and helped me calm down. I had barely managed to stop myself from doing something ill-advised as my fight-or-flight response activated.
‘I guess I will need alternative arrangements then.’