Chapter 1: A New Dawn

“The world is changing, and Riyal’s downfall is near. He can feel it…. and he won’t go quietly…”

         -Osake the First



Chapter 1


A bird flitted speedily by a young boy’s face, before landing in a dead tree to feed its young that were nestled within. A quiet yet strange peace spread across the lone tree, and its ugly surroundings; sand dunes rose up to a man’s eye level, with odd patches of grass sprinkled throughout. Smoke curled out of a distant chimney to the south, and to the north a clump of oaks barren of all leaves sat waiting to be cut down or burned. The sound of a saw in this northern patch of trees was prevalent over the lazy winds that swept through the desert area.

“Bring in the tools, boy!” came a distant call that echoed throughout the empty space.

The saw stopped. “Aye, sir,” came Seth’s reply from so far away that if the wind wouldn’t have carried the sound it would never have made it back.

Seth was a slave. At age twelve his parents were burned alive by the Emperor’s sentries for failure to pay taxes, and with no living relatives Seth was put onto the black market. It was a cruel existence, and it took near five years for anyone to even take a look at buying him. When they did, it was a merchant shop owner in the fishing town of Claiit. Now, at the ripe old age of sixteen, Seth had undergone more turmoil in his short existence than many ever would in their lifetimes.

His owner, Clayton, was a large man in his early fifties with greasy black hair, leathery tan skin, and a big attitude. His shop was largely a success, but that did not help his mindset towards Seth. Clayton had no compassion for anyone, and when it came to Seth he was more likely to whip him than give him a compliment. Actually, this occurred a lot. But it made no difference to Seth. He had never known anyone that loved him. He never expected anyone to. That was how things went in Claiit; you don’t expect any help and you don’t give any.

Claiit was mostly a sleepy little town, built on the commerce from trading and fishing. The docks and the market were the only things worth seeing, and Claiit was home to some of the biggest docks in Talindak. Perfect location for a store, so Clayton had set up shop right on the edge of the docks many years before Seth’s arrival.

Seth was born in the far north of Talindak and, naturally, had fair skin with dark brown hair and matching eyes. He was generally a normal person, except for the scar. He didn’t know how he got it, when, or where. As long as Seth could remember that bright silver teardrop had always been staring back up at him from the inside of his left ankle.

“Oi! Boy! Hurry the hell up! We ‘ave customers waiting, and you need to finish cleanin’!” shouted Clayton.

With a sigh Seth plucked the saw out of a half-cut log, and trudged through the sand dunes that dotted Clayton’s property, all the way back to the house.

“Put away th’ saw and grab yur mop,” ordered Seth’s master, before turning back to a shady figure in the front of the store. “Now sir, wha’ you r’quested is…”

Seth stopped listening; he had been punished several times for eavesdropping. Marching over to a closet behind the front counter, Seth pulled out on old, grubby mop. Honestly he thought it made the floors dirtier, but whatever pleased the master.

This was just how things went, day in and day out. Sometimes there were incidents with soldiers, arrests and the like. Actually that was happening more and more often these days. Just a week ago some rebels were thrown in jail for “scheming against the emperor” or something, but Seth did not care. The government sorted it all out, and none of it was going to get him out of his master’s hands any time soon.


* * * * * *



Two weeks later, Seth awoke to bright sunlight hitting him in the eyes through a small, dirty window in his one room cottage. The shack barely met Talindak’s requirements for slave quarters. The bigger problem, for Seth anyway, was that it was getting more and more cramped as Seth grew into manhood. Overnight, a puddle of drool had spread across the straw mat he slept on. With his awakening, the craving of hunger clawed at Seth’s insides. A hunk of cheese slapped on top of some bread satisfied him, and as he went over the days work excitement filled his insides. Today was the big day, the day that Clayton would let Seth roam the town alone, even with a few crowns! Of course Seth would go to the market and get his first taste of mango and pineapple, then maybe bring something home for the master.

Still, the sun was just rising and there was plenty of work to do. The goats had to be milked, the wood cut, floors washed, cupboards straightened, products aligned, tools cleaned; the list went on and on. They took all morning just to get half done, and the sun would have risen high above the town before Seth would be even close to finishing.

Being a slave meant Seth had nothing besides his work. He was the lowest of the low, and when he got chances like this to leave the shop and have a chance to do something, it reminded him of his parents and what a normal child would do all day. Tears welled up in his eyes; he didn’t know what happened to his parents. All he had ever been told was that they had died tragically and unexpectedly one day. Their deaths left a gaping hole in his heart, but he had forced himself to make the best of this awful situation. The best was today.

“You have yur day today, boy” called Clayton, as Seth trudged into the shop’s sharpening are after finishing some of the other menial tasks he was set to outside.

“I know!” came Seth’s call over the sharpening stone.

“Filthy rat…if they didn’t force me to give you this day I never would. There’s too much to do ‘round the shop and in the fields that you must do.”

“Yes, I know. I could come back quickly.”

“No you take yur day. Just means more work fer tomorrow. Here’s yur crowns. Don’ waste ‘em.”

“Aye, sir. Thank you.”

“Shut up and finish yur work.”

Twelve crowns! The man was cruel and unforgiving, but clearly he feared the government and its punishments more than keeping his slave for a day.

“Can I take Abel?”

“O’ course not. Now get outta here b’for I whip you.”

Well, it was worth a try. Abel was the mule that Clayton had bought several years earlier, before Seth could do all his work. He was sturdy, but old. The trip without him would take some time.



Midday had come and past now, and Seth was just sauntering through the gates into the city. The sun beat down upon him, causing beads of sweat to pool around his brow, and then slide down his cheeks. The breeze he had just felt disappeared in the middle of the streets. The town was bright and bustling, the streets crowded with merchants haggling and pestering many a passerby with their wares while shouting across the masses to advertise. Street performers danced around the rim of the roads, occasionally receiving a crown or two for their efforts. Vendors carted fresh fruits, meats, and drinks around the sidewalks. Guards skirted the square, overlooking everything that happened.

Wouldn’t want to be one of them, thought Seth as he saw they were stuck in maroon uniforms and armor, as compared to a short sleeved shirt and pants that Seth donned.

Quickly shuffling through the crowds toward the street vendors, Seth took note of several shops he would look into later; a tea shop, a tailor, maybe a bar or two as well, and a hotel. That was all for later though. For now his main goal was to get his hands onto some of that mango.

He picked out a vendor and made his way over to a short, stout man with a deep tan and bleached white hair. His folds of skin hid most of his features very effectively, and large gray eyebrows hid his eyes almost entirely.

“Can I help you, kid?” asked the man as Seth approached his cart.

“Do you have any mangos?”

“No,” the little man snarled at him, “What do you expect me to do, go to Calandor? Get out of here kid. Unless you want some watermelon.”

Seth walked off. A little rude maybe, but the man did not exactly show him any kindness. The next few vendors he ran into had either just sold out, or were too lazy to go to Calandor to get some of the prized fruit. Giving up on his search for now, Seth stalked off into a bar.

The bar was dimly lit, and it was packed. Huge barrels of ale stood behind a counter, and people lined the bar. A haze seemed to obscure Seth’s vision, but he could make out the barmaid and went over to order a drink. Seth found a seat in the back corner of the bar, sat down, and promptly began peeling the skins off of some nuts that were lying in a bowl at the center of the table. A shadowy figure approached his table and asked if the open seat next to him was taken.

“No, sir. Sit down.”

“Thanks boy. It’s been a long day. What’s your name?”

The man had a rough voice, hard to understand at times, but that was common enough in these parts. He was probably a sailor of some sort, and judging by that fact that he wasn’t clean-shaven, that was probably true. He seemed much smarter than the average sailor though, that was for sure.

“Seth.”

“Where’re you from Seth?” came the stranger’s muffled response through a mouthful of nuts.

“The docks.” replied Seth warily, a little annoyed that the stranger would ask him such things.

“Ah. Well I can see you are not entirely fond of me. The name’s Cass, I’m a sailor from Calandor.”

This piqued Seth’s attention. Maybe he would know where to get some mango.

“Would you know where to get any mango around here?”

“Nah. I doubt it’s very good here though. Not compared to back home anyways. You a fan of mango?”

“Absolutely. But I’ve only had it once.”

“That’s too bad. Now tell me son, what do you do? Are you an apprentice, or what?”

“I…I’m a slave.”

“A slave at the docks…you wouldn’t happen to know Clayton would you?”

“He’s my master.”

“I thought so. He’s not the brightest man around is he? Well I guess you shouldn’t answer that!”

He let out a hearty laugh at this, and by the time he finished both their drinks had arrived. The stranger gulped his down, Seth followed suit, and both men left the bar together.

Once outside, the man’s features became clear, and Seth was surprised to see a thin scar running from the end of his short black hair down to the little goatee he sported. His eyes were dark, his skin tanned, his clothing ragged and bulky. The muscles that bulged from under his shirt were huge; Seth had never seen a stronger man. He is a sailor though I suppose.

“My, is that bright! Groggy little bar isn’t it…” exclaimed Cass, “why don’t we see if we can’t find you some mango on your day off.”

“How do you know my master?” asked Seth.

“Oooh, we go way back. He used to be a very respectable sailor. We worked together under Blue Ridge Shipping’s sails and made a pretty good living.”

“Wow. He just seems like a greedy, old, and smelly man to me.”

“Well, you aren’t exactly getting the best view of him now are you?”

“I suppose not. Why did you two split up?”

Cass’ face flushed as he stammered over the answer, but soon enough he said, “We had, er, conflicts of interests after our contracts expired.”

“Oh.”

With this both fell silent, and wandered around Claiit looking for a vendor with any mango left to sell. Seth was in awe at the variety and sheer size of the town; they passed Miss Mangham’s Home of the Occult shop, several tailors, too many bars to count, and a few more street performers before sundown, when Seth called it quits.

“I should be getting to my lodgings. I’ll have to be up early to get home in the morning or Clayton’ll have my hide, and by now the hotel is probably half way across town!”

“Sounds like a plan. Say, do you work inside Clayton’s little shop or do you work outside?”

“Both, mostly outside though. Why?”

“Eh, no reason. Just wondering what Clayton had you doing. You should be off. These streets get a little touchy after sunset.”

As Seth turned to leave, he swore he saw Cass’ eyes open wide at Seth, but he turned also and began walking away, muttering to himself as he went. Caught a little of guard, Seth wondered what he could have possibly seen. It was not until he reached his room and was undressing for the night that he realized that his scar was looking back up at him, uncovered from the two inch strip of leather on the inside of his left sandal. Cass must have seen it…but still, what put him off so much?


His room was entirely stone, and simply the basics; a bed with a straw mattress, and a nightstand with a half melted candle lit on top of it; behind which was a small window overlooking main-street. Seth took no notice of small features; he simply collapsed on top of the bed and let slumber overcome him.


* * * * * *


How long he had slept, Seth did not know. Sensing the amount of activity below the window though, he knew he was not going to be on time. The long journey back to Clayton’s shop would not be a fun one. Not only was it hot, but when Clayton realized that he was late, it would surely mean a whipping. Donning his shirt and pants, Seth exited his room, paid the attendant, and left. Fighting his way through the mob, Seth quickly left the city and began to sprint back along the dirt road.

The sun was burning, sweat seemed to flow out of his pores, but Seth did not care. All he heard was the beating of his heart, and all he felt was the burning of his lungs. Rocks pounded at his feet, leaving small cuts that began to bleed, but if he was late it would be worse than a few scrapes on your feet.
The journey seemed to last forever, but finally he made it to the top of a hill and the sea splayed out before him. Smoke was rising from behind Clayton’s shop, and a disgusting smell emanated from the acrid black column.
The old man must be burning something…. not good.

When the shop rose up in front of him, very loud yelling reached Seth’s ears and Cass soon exited.

“Hey Cass,” said Seth between gasps for breath.

Cass’ reply came quickly and urgently, as though something had gone terribly wrong. “Clayton’s not happy with you…but that is of little importance. Right now I need to know some things from you.”