Into The City

For many years, I lived life being passed from one to another until my grief had overwhelmed me. I went seeking solace, even forgiveness, by going to the lands of which I felt would make peace with my ghost that haunted me for so very long. Rivers of tears, I cried. Words of pleading, I prayed. I struggled for years to find forgiveness, and yes, to forgive myself. After the realizing that there was nothing I could have done; I am but simply a slave, I finally was able to forgive myself. One of the last journal entries I made was that it was time to stop the grieving, since obviously, it was never going to come. The joys I once had in serving had faded, with my actions being more from habit and routine than out of the joy itself of serving. I had become what I had vowed to myself long ago, that I would never be. An empty shell of a slave. Little did I realize at the time that the passage left in that journal had a deeper meaning. Perhaps it was my way of saying goodbye. I couldn't live under the yoke and grief anymore.

It was time to move on with my life, though I wasn't sure how. After the years I had spent serving the village, there seemed little more I could do. I decided that maybe begging one of the riders, when one would head into a city for trading, would do some good for me. Get me back into a better frame of mind and lift my spirits. I waited hands for word that one would be taking a trip into the city, but once word had reached me, I begged of him to allow me to go with him. It took plenty of pleading, but he finally gave in.

It happened that I was in an extremely uplifted mood that day, so the ride to the city was one that I enjoyed, even if being laid across and tied down to the kaiila isn't the most comfortable position for such a lengthy journey. He had gone into a city, though which one, I did not ask. It didn't matter. I was too thrilled with the idea of roaming around and seeing the sights of beauty that are not common around the village.

He dropped me off so he could go conduct business, and I found myself, as usual, drawn to a place of beauty. A stoned garden. I had forgotten how intoxicating the aroma of a garden like that could be, so I entered inside, in the mind of plucking a few of the flowers to dry and make something of later, and of practicing a song I have been putting together on the flute.

There he was. Dressed in all black, yet it was apparent he was no assassin. He was dressed finer than any merchant I've ever seen, and his very carriage was nothing short of regal. I have never met a Ubar that carried himself so completely in that manner. Even though for a long time, he was silent, his presence was felt with an intensity of power. I was utterly intrigued given how his very aura radiated eloquent supremacy.

I had no idea, from a chance meeting in a stoned garden would mark a new path in my life; in my slavery.