63rd of Winter, 514 A.V.
Down the familiar path to the docks Hirem went, a bundle of small winter cloaks tucked under his arm and a solemn smile etched onto his face.
It was a route well-known to him, ducking and weaving through the main streets of Riverfall, using the domed buildings on all sides as a shield against the cold winds. His feet were so well used to the journey that they traced it without thought, his body instinctively heading to his destination by force of habit. This freed his mind to focus on other concerns, and today he focused his attention upon a question of philosophy, as it often did during this chilly winter season. Hirem asked himself whether it was more virtuous to lend assistance to the misfortunate or to ask that they grow strong enough to assist themselves. Is it nobler of the strong to accept the weak into their midst, or to demand that they first make themselves strong? Both sides had merit, each answer reflected in the spirit of the people that Hirem had grown accustomed to. On the one side, there was the kind Benshira, who had no tolerance for greed and disdained what might be considered necessary in favour of what was right. And on the other, there was the Akalak, who towered above their neighbours and provided peace for all citizens within their domain, but cared little if the citizen did not contribute to their community in return. He would always remain partial towards the Benshira way of life, but he had also grown to hugely respect the Akalak way of life. So what was the answer to the question? He had pondered it for many days, and figured that he had at last stumbled upon a solution.
But that solution had, as of yet, remained untested. So Hirem grew resolved to see if he could make a difference in Riverfall.
It was midday by the time he finally arrived at the docks of the city, food grumbling in his belly and the chilly air making his cheeks feel numb. Venturing off the beaten roads and heading deeper into the alleyways of the lower tier, Hirem walked without fear of getting lost, for he had grown used to the layout of this part of the city. He had explored it thoroughly in his search for the ghosts of Riverfall - those poor folk that had no job, no money, and no way of defending themselves from the arm of the Kuvay’Nas. They could only hide and hope they were not evicted from the city, for being sent into the Sea of Grass during winter time was a death sentence. They were a little number, small and largely insignificant to Rivarian society, but Hirem was starting to grow accustomed to them. Many of the ghosts no longer fled when he approached, for word had spread that the tall Benshira was no threat, and in fact often brought bowls of food or cloaks for surviving the winter weather. An opportunistic few had tried to use this knowledge to their advantage and rob him in the dead of night, and only luck had saved Hirem from being entirely penniless. Still, he was determined to ingratiate himself with the ghosts, seeing in them both a chance for his redemption and a cause he could fully devote himself to. This was an undertaking he saw no one else attempting, for there was little need. The poor existed in every city, and what friends Hirem had made among the city’s more powerful citizens, they were all concerned with higher, more troublesome concerns. This left a role that the Benshira delighted to fulfill. Of course, he could not do so himself… but that was a concern for another time.
Finally arriving at the designated meeting spot, Hirem turned round the corner of a wide house and saw a small group of children waiting nervously around the back wall, all clustered around a long bench. There was only a half-dozen in total, less than Hirem had originally hoped to see, but he was grateful that at least the message had been received. ”Falim,” he greeted them, pushing through the group to sit down upon the snow-covered bench. The children let him pass without complaint, all staring at him with dark eyes, hungrily gazing upon the winter cloaks. Once he was able to recline on the bench, the Benshira breathed a low breath and looked back at the children, eventually gesturing to one among their number. ”Tarik,” he called out to the boy, beckoning him forward. The child was well-known to him, and Tarik greeted him with an enthusiastic smile. ”What have you done since I saw you last?”
Tarik was so excited to speak that he started to babble just as Hirem finished talking, jumping up and down. ”I saw this Drykas on the street, bringing home a basket of goods from the market. He slipped, the basket split, and everything went everywhere. I helped him retrieve everything, and even turned down the gold miza he offered for my help!”
The boy’s look of pride was infectious, and Hirem smiled in response. ”Very good,” he murmured, passing Tarik a cloak. ”Wayland?” Just as eager, the Svefra boy stepped up, bright eyes shining. ”What have you done since I saw you last?”
Wayland nodded vigorously, his chin going up and down, up and down. ”There was this old woman at the marketplace today, with a wrinkled, ugly face. I thought it might cheer her up to have something nice to wear, so I went ahead and gave her a big fur cloak with a wave trimming! She smiled real bright at me and said I was the most handsome young lad she ever saw!” The boy grinned.
Hirem did not grin back. ”And where did you get the cloak?”
The Svefra child didn’t blink. ”Well, you see, this seamstress gave it to me as a present for me helping her fix up her cart. She said I was the most handsome young -”
”You liar!” One of the other children barked. ”I saw you run off with that from one of the clothing stalls in the Zhongjie! You stole that cloak!”
Wayland seized upon the child and shook his head, thin hands balling into fists. ”Shut up! The old lady got her cloak, what does it matter?”
The Benshira sighed. ”What matters, Wayland, is that you stole to help another, and while you were kind to the old woman, the fact remains that you ended up hurting someone. What is the point of being kind, if we are not kind to all?” The Svefra looked defeated, and hung his head in anger. Hirem took a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders. ”You will learn from this,” he firmly said, offering Wayland a cloak despite his failure to understand the lesson.
The lesson, thankfully, had been understood by the other five children gathered around, and Hirem reflected on the possible success he might have enjoyed as he listened to the youth speak more of their good deeds. For he had found a satisfactory answer to the question, Is it nobler of the strong to accept the weak into their midst, or to demand that they first make themselves strong?
The answer, of course, was that it was most noble of the strong to do both.
Ledger :
Down the familiar path to the docks Hirem went, a bundle of small winter cloaks tucked under his arm and a solemn smile etched onto his face.
It was a route well-known to him, ducking and weaving through the main streets of Riverfall, using the domed buildings on all sides as a shield against the cold winds. His feet were so well used to the journey that they traced it without thought, his body instinctively heading to his destination by force of habit. This freed his mind to focus on other concerns, and today he focused his attention upon a question of philosophy, as it often did during this chilly winter season. Hirem asked himself whether it was more virtuous to lend assistance to the misfortunate or to ask that they grow strong enough to assist themselves. Is it nobler of the strong to accept the weak into their midst, or to demand that they first make themselves strong? Both sides had merit, each answer reflected in the spirit of the people that Hirem had grown accustomed to. On the one side, there was the kind Benshira, who had no tolerance for greed and disdained what might be considered necessary in favour of what was right. And on the other, there was the Akalak, who towered above their neighbours and provided peace for all citizens within their domain, but cared little if the citizen did not contribute to their community in return. He would always remain partial towards the Benshira way of life, but he had also grown to hugely respect the Akalak way of life. So what was the answer to the question? He had pondered it for many days, and figured that he had at last stumbled upon a solution.
But that solution had, as of yet, remained untested. So Hirem grew resolved to see if he could make a difference in Riverfall.
It was midday by the time he finally arrived at the docks of the city, food grumbling in his belly and the chilly air making his cheeks feel numb. Venturing off the beaten roads and heading deeper into the alleyways of the lower tier, Hirem walked without fear of getting lost, for he had grown used to the layout of this part of the city. He had explored it thoroughly in his search for the ghosts of Riverfall - those poor folk that had no job, no money, and no way of defending themselves from the arm of the Kuvay’Nas. They could only hide and hope they were not evicted from the city, for being sent into the Sea of Grass during winter time was a death sentence. They were a little number, small and largely insignificant to Rivarian society, but Hirem was starting to grow accustomed to them. Many of the ghosts no longer fled when he approached, for word had spread that the tall Benshira was no threat, and in fact often brought bowls of food or cloaks for surviving the winter weather. An opportunistic few had tried to use this knowledge to their advantage and rob him in the dead of night, and only luck had saved Hirem from being entirely penniless. Still, he was determined to ingratiate himself with the ghosts, seeing in them both a chance for his redemption and a cause he could fully devote himself to. This was an undertaking he saw no one else attempting, for there was little need. The poor existed in every city, and what friends Hirem had made among the city’s more powerful citizens, they were all concerned with higher, more troublesome concerns. This left a role that the Benshira delighted to fulfill. Of course, he could not do so himself… but that was a concern for another time.
Finally arriving at the designated meeting spot, Hirem turned round the corner of a wide house and saw a small group of children waiting nervously around the back wall, all clustered around a long bench. There was only a half-dozen in total, less than Hirem had originally hoped to see, but he was grateful that at least the message had been received. ”Falim,” he greeted them, pushing through the group to sit down upon the snow-covered bench. The children let him pass without complaint, all staring at him with dark eyes, hungrily gazing upon the winter cloaks. Once he was able to recline on the bench, the Benshira breathed a low breath and looked back at the children, eventually gesturing to one among their number. ”Tarik,” he called out to the boy, beckoning him forward. The child was well-known to him, and Tarik greeted him with an enthusiastic smile. ”What have you done since I saw you last?”
Tarik was so excited to speak that he started to babble just as Hirem finished talking, jumping up and down. ”I saw this Drykas on the street, bringing home a basket of goods from the market. He slipped, the basket split, and everything went everywhere. I helped him retrieve everything, and even turned down the gold miza he offered for my help!”
The boy’s look of pride was infectious, and Hirem smiled in response. ”Very good,” he murmured, passing Tarik a cloak. ”Wayland?” Just as eager, the Svefra boy stepped up, bright eyes shining. ”What have you done since I saw you last?”
Wayland nodded vigorously, his chin going up and down, up and down. ”There was this old woman at the marketplace today, with a wrinkled, ugly face. I thought it might cheer her up to have something nice to wear, so I went ahead and gave her a big fur cloak with a wave trimming! She smiled real bright at me and said I was the most handsome young lad she ever saw!” The boy grinned.
Hirem did not grin back. ”And where did you get the cloak?”
The Svefra child didn’t blink. ”Well, you see, this seamstress gave it to me as a present for me helping her fix up her cart. She said I was the most handsome young -”
”You liar!” One of the other children barked. ”I saw you run off with that from one of the clothing stalls in the Zhongjie! You stole that cloak!”
Wayland seized upon the child and shook his head, thin hands balling into fists. ”Shut up! The old lady got her cloak, what does it matter?”
The Benshira sighed. ”What matters, Wayland, is that you stole to help another, and while you were kind to the old woman, the fact remains that you ended up hurting someone. What is the point of being kind, if we are not kind to all?” The Svefra looked defeated, and hung his head in anger. Hirem took a deep breath and shrugged his shoulders. ”You will learn from this,” he firmly said, offering Wayland a cloak despite his failure to understand the lesson.
The lesson, thankfully, had been understood by the other five children gathered around, and Hirem reflected on the possible success he might have enjoyed as he listened to the youth speak more of their good deeds. For he had found a satisfactory answer to the question, Is it nobler of the strong to accept the weak into their midst, or to demand that they first make themselves strong?
The answer, of course, was that it was most noble of the strong to do both.
