Sand 10
Burdoned Soul:
I sorry it took me so so so long but I really have been busy lately. I know there isn't much talking in this chapter but it might be the most important of the story. You can bet I will be updating again soon. I love you all even if you can no longer find it in your hearts to love me. :)
I jumped from the high back of the black stallion and onto the sinking ground below. I stretched the wind out of the folds of my black and gold uniform and rode confidently but silently into the village; Adonnis needed no invitation to follow. I glanced around the obviously decaying village. Thick, cloth tents and crumbling mud clap houses stood along either side of an empty and slightly traveled expanse of sand in what I knew to be the road. Pieces of red and black tattered cloth clung to wooden poles in various places, russleing in the wind whenever it came. It was the old wagon tracks in the sand, and only that, that informed me I was headed in the right direction.
As I neared the market, the houses started growing larger. Subtly at first, the once scant and devoid areas surrounding the simple mud houses began to fill with single and double story ones and later into pubs and businesses. The larger and richer estates followed those, some even painted white with clay roofs. Eventually even the dirt was replaced with stone, it emerging from the sand as though it had always been there.
I ignored the strange sensation of walking on anything solid and continued further into the Baron's territory, disregarding everything but the house on top of the hill ahead, the one with seven stories and palm trees, painted white and gold to match the wealth of the man who owned it. Baron Rojek Takmari.
As I turned the corner that would lead me to his gate I smiled to myself and formed a new plan, slipping into the shadows of an alleyway. One that would lead to the side of Takmari's estate.
______________________________________
Omniscent POV
The prestigious Baron Rojek Takmari of Bramun rested his hands on the silk fabric of his shirt, around the large bubble of his belly as he laughed and the thunderous sound echoed off the distant walls and high, domed ceiling of his spacious bath area. In this room, greens and blues light purples and golds decorated every corner, danced over the ceiling to the canvas paintings from France that gave an exotic sense to the room. If this were a trading day then the cavernous room would be emptied of the girls that typically sauntered here and there, basking in sunlight or bathing in the water. It would have been devoid of the regal guests that came here occasionally to mingle with the other important figures and drink to nothing. But this was not a trading day so the room was filled with dancing colors and shy laughter. The Baron himself paused to converse idly with a few of the guests of a distant kingdom and then continued, for the first time that night un-noticed, toward the stairs which would lead him to one hall, then another and yet another in the maze of a house, and then finally to his study. It was here where he counted his money and admired his treasures- a favorite pastime but one only admired on days when the market was closed.
The Baron hummed to himself the tune of his happy song, for that was how he felt at the moment- above all the others in the room far below. They'd come to his house to be in his presence. The Baron had all which he had ever desired and nothing else mattered. It was not unusual that he pause for a second before entering the small, cramped room which held his most prized possessions. Perhaps he was preparing himself for the long hours of counting endless stacks of gold, perhaps, somewhere deep inside, the man was praying for his soul. You see, the money in the room had come from the pockets of the poor villagers. Destitute as they were, he'd continued to take away the small amount of money that they worked long and hard for and, with the raise in prices that he ordered, the people would soon have nothing left. So perhaps, in that pause he prayed silently for himself, perhaps for the people, perhaps for nothing at all. But still, the song fell silent as he walked into the room, the last few notes of it seeming to reverberate in the empty hallway, turning the once happy song to a haunting sound.
Takmari closed the door swiftly behind himself, trying to put a barrier between him and the ghosts that lurked the passages of the towering estate. It groaned in protest as he pushed it closed.
Turning, the Baron lifted his head to inspect the room. It was not glamorous in itself, but the gold figurines and ivory daggers, furs and silks, brasses and gemstones that littered the room gave it an air of importance. His visual tour stopped when his eyes came to the window. It usually provided a wonderful view of the main market square but that was not what held his attention. It was not the lacy fabric blowing in and out of the window in a breeze that was not usual, and it was not the darkness of the sky with the heavy clouds of an early summer rainstorm. It was the fact that the window was open. He'd never once opened the window, even for fresh air. Not once.
"Good evening, high Baron." Came a muted, elegant voice from behind him. His blood froze and his heart stopped at the familiar sound but his breathing came slightly faster. He did not want to turn to look at the deadly girl because if he did then it would prove that she was here. And he could not handle that at the moment.
He did, however, manage a response, "I'm sure it would have been."
She smirked at the curt sound of his voice. He could play the part of the Brave Baron but it wouldn't fool her. He began to sweat and his movements were rigid as he made his way to the desk and shuffled around the papers with casual pretense. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. That's no way to speak to a guest, Rojek."
"Hah!" He replied swiftly, "if you are here for the party then you are in the wrong room." He raised an eyebrow, "but something tells me that food and laughter is not what you seek in my house. So, if I may be so blunt your grace, what business brings you to my city? And, more importantly, to my office."
She noticed the way his voice darkened at the end and her smirk grew. She had unsettled him by coming into a room which he used as a sanctuary. This was what she needed. The assassin leaned forward, prepared to begin. "You owe me something Takmari, and I've come to collect."
The Baron was surprised that she had come for the favor she was owed. He wondered idily, while he assessed her casual stance, what was so urgent as to warrant her desire. His eyebrow, which had drifted back to its normal position while she spoke again rose. "And what will you have me do for you?"
She smiled and pulled a paper from her pocket. It was not the old parchment of a treasure hunter that the Baron was so used to seeing, and he was surprised with its crisp feeling as she handed it to him. He eagerly unrolled it and let his eyes scan it over, involuntarily they grew wider by the second until he reached the seal placed in red wax at the bottom. For it was more important than any amount of words that could be written in the elegant script of the letter. "Is this real?" he begged in a husky voice, still staring at the paper with disbelieving eyes. When no reply came he looked up, his only surprise being that he was not surprised that she had disappeared.
I sorry it took me so so so long but I really have been busy lately. I know there isn't much talking in this chapter but it might be the most important of the story. You can bet I will be updating again soon. I love you all even if you can no longer find it in your hearts to love me. :)
I jumped from the high back of the black stallion and onto the sinking ground below. I stretched the wind out of the folds of my black and gold uniform and rode confidently but silently into the village; Adonnis needed no invitation to follow. I glanced around the obviously decaying village. Thick, cloth tents and crumbling mud clap houses stood along either side of an empty and slightly traveled expanse of sand in what I knew to be the road. Pieces of red and black tattered cloth clung to wooden poles in various places, russleing in the wind whenever it came. It was the old wagon tracks in the sand, and only that, that informed me I was headed in the right direction.
As I neared the market, the houses started growing larger. Subtly at first, the once scant and devoid areas surrounding the simple mud houses began to fill with single and double story ones and later into pubs and businesses. The larger and richer estates followed those, some even painted white with clay roofs. Eventually even the dirt was replaced with stone, it emerging from the sand as though it had always been there.
I ignored the strange sensation of walking on anything solid and continued further into the Baron's territory, disregarding everything but the house on top of the hill ahead, the one with seven stories and palm trees, painted white and gold to match the wealth of the man who owned it. Baron Rojek Takmari.
As I turned the corner that would lead me to his gate I smiled to myself and formed a new plan, slipping into the shadows of an alleyway. One that would lead to the side of Takmari's estate.
______________________________________
Omniscent POV
The prestigious Baron Rojek Takmari of Bramun rested his hands on the silk fabric of his shirt, around the large bubble of his belly as he laughed and the thunderous sound echoed off the distant walls and high, domed ceiling of his spacious bath area. In this room, greens and blues light purples and golds decorated every corner, danced over the ceiling to the canvas paintings from France that gave an exotic sense to the room. If this were a trading day then the cavernous room would be emptied of the girls that typically sauntered here and there, basking in sunlight or bathing in the water. It would have been devoid of the regal guests that came here occasionally to mingle with the other important figures and drink to nothing. But this was not a trading day so the room was filled with dancing colors and shy laughter. The Baron himself paused to converse idly with a few of the guests of a distant kingdom and then continued, for the first time that night un-noticed, toward the stairs which would lead him to one hall, then another and yet another in the maze of a house, and then finally to his study. It was here where he counted his money and admired his treasures- a favorite pastime but one only admired on days when the market was closed.
The Baron hummed to himself the tune of his happy song, for that was how he felt at the moment- above all the others in the room far below. They'd come to his house to be in his presence. The Baron had all which he had ever desired and nothing else mattered. It was not unusual that he pause for a second before entering the small, cramped room which held his most prized possessions. Perhaps he was preparing himself for the long hours of counting endless stacks of gold, perhaps, somewhere deep inside, the man was praying for his soul. You see, the money in the room had come from the pockets of the poor villagers. Destitute as they were, he'd continued to take away the small amount of money that they worked long and hard for and, with the raise in prices that he ordered, the people would soon have nothing left. So perhaps, in that pause he prayed silently for himself, perhaps for the people, perhaps for nothing at all. But still, the song fell silent as he walked into the room, the last few notes of it seeming to reverberate in the empty hallway, turning the once happy song to a haunting sound.
Takmari closed the door swiftly behind himself, trying to put a barrier between him and the ghosts that lurked the passages of the towering estate. It groaned in protest as he pushed it closed.
Turning, the Baron lifted his head to inspect the room. It was not glamorous in itself, but the gold figurines and ivory daggers, furs and silks, brasses and gemstones that littered the room gave it an air of importance. His visual tour stopped when his eyes came to the window. It usually provided a wonderful view of the main market square but that was not what held his attention. It was not the lacy fabric blowing in and out of the window in a breeze that was not usual, and it was not the darkness of the sky with the heavy clouds of an early summer rainstorm. It was the fact that the window was open. He'd never once opened the window, even for fresh air. Not once.
"Good evening, high Baron." Came a muted, elegant voice from behind him. His blood froze and his heart stopped at the familiar sound but his breathing came slightly faster. He did not want to turn to look at the deadly girl because if he did then it would prove that she was here. And he could not handle that at the moment.
He did, however, manage a response, "I'm sure it would have been."
She smirked at the curt sound of his voice. He could play the part of the Brave Baron but it wouldn't fool her. He began to sweat and his movements were rigid as he made his way to the desk and shuffled around the papers with casual pretense. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. That's no way to speak to a guest, Rojek."
"Hah!" He replied swiftly, "if you are here for the party then you are in the wrong room." He raised an eyebrow, "but something tells me that food and laughter is not what you seek in my house. So, if I may be so blunt your grace, what business brings you to my city? And, more importantly, to my office."
She noticed the way his voice darkened at the end and her smirk grew. She had unsettled him by coming into a room which he used as a sanctuary. This was what she needed. The assassin leaned forward, prepared to begin. "You owe me something Takmari, and I've come to collect."
The Baron was surprised that she had come for the favor she was owed. He wondered idily, while he assessed her casual stance, what was so urgent as to warrant her desire. His eyebrow, which had drifted back to its normal position while she spoke again rose. "And what will you have me do for you?"
She smiled and pulled a paper from her pocket. It was not the old parchment of a treasure hunter that the Baron was so used to seeing, and he was surprised with its crisp feeling as she handed it to him. He eagerly unrolled it and let his eyes scan it over, involuntarily they grew wider by the second until he reached the seal placed in red wax at the bottom. For it was more important than any amount of words that could be written in the elegant script of the letter. "Is this real?" he begged in a husky voice, still staring at the paper with disbelieving eyes. When no reply came he looked up, his only surprise being that he was not surprised that she had disappeared.
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