367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZRGvhXaAz7
"In my opinion it is less shameful for a king to be overcome by force of arms than by bribery." - Sallust367Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRfglWlKXus
It was a foggy Saturday morning in the far northeast periphery of Stoneville, the mist drew the veil of the upcoming winter with a rather chilly start for its villagers. But that was something typical for the northeastern villages, especially when we speak about Stoneville - known for its gloominess and poor vegetation. As the name would suggest, Stoneville was one of the most famous places to visit when it came to a geological phenomenon involving natural, mind-blasting stone sculptures and yet again, the poorest village in the world with its seven thousand villagers left with the one and only choice but to try to earn their daily wage in the form of food or clothes. One would think that 'wages in kind' were long abolished, but the reality of twenty-first century begged to differ - money, for some people, was an incredible mockery of the ruling class and yet again, we worshiped Capitalism like flies in the eye of the storm. How cruel could unnoticed crime be, and people never learned to pay attention - to the weak, to the poor, to the voiceless. They did never learn.
The weekend's mornings did not differ much from the rest of the days, just that the smell of freshly baked bread was spreading more rapidly than any other day. It would be only logical though, whatever one could afford to earn during the week could be guessed from the fragrance wandering and twisting around from house to house.
One would think Stoneville was rather old-fashioned with the traditional bread-making, but in a world where fast food overflew the bloodstream of marketing, little did people know about the divinity of homemade bread. Praise the bread and you would know half of the villagers' values in Stoneville. That sacred the bread was there! Praise the bread!
However, in that chilly but filled with traditions and praises morning, one and only one sole figure would wander around. Her name was Savia Golthhas. A twenty-three-year-old girl, who loved to take care of the scarce nature in Stoneville. Thanks to her, actually, the stones shined, the birds started to return and the butterflies decorated the village during spring time.
The people in Stoneville loved that girl, she was considered their pride. Ever since she survived the harsh winter in the Smyrtian forest ten years ago, they believed that the girl was Stoneville's lucky charm. After all, nothing ever died in her hands. Was it a wounded animal, or a very-much-of-dead plant, that girl could bring them back to life. She was well-known in the village, although people knew her for being all alone, hence, they assumed that she was a very lonely girl. Not like it was too far from the truth.
In reality, Savia was a quiet one but in her own way. She loved to smile and laugh with people. In fact, more than anything, she loved to listen to people's genuine laughter. But if one would suggest she was one of the bright ones, well, not really. Savia loved her alone-time, she preferred to wander around - almost like being lost in the wild, but never did she look like being lost. If anything, that girl was desperately looking for something, her light, hazel eyes pierced through the horizons with their deep sorrow of something lost, something that maybe did not even exist anymore. Yes, the eyes of a lost hope - were they not?
With slow-paced steps, Savia finally reached the entrance of one of the stone caves she was currently nurturing with different sort of plants. Even though the village was covered by the fog, Savia climbed rather high, where one could have the bird's eye view. During the winter time, she loved to climb up above and gaze into the far. The fog usually looked like fluffy cotton cover over Stoneville. Sometimes she thought funny things, like, if she could only fly - she would definitely surge towards that fluffy cover of mist!
The thought made her chuckle yet again. She dropped lightly the huge gunny sack she dragged along the way, her hands were going numb from the cold. The girl stretched them forth and rubbed them together, bringing them to lips to blow warm air into them. The rubbing slowly reached a point of stillness and her gaze wandered far into the distance - beyond houses, smokes of chimneys, beyond hills and stone bridges. Far, far...far into the faint distance of abstraction - her smile slowly flattened and there was that empty feeling again.
Eyelids closed and lungs gulped in the harshness of cold, if only could cold still her heart too - she thought, how wonderful that would be.
Savia's eyebrows locked in a faint frown, rejecting the gloominess of Stoneville. It wasn't time to get gloomy!
With a quick shift, she grabbed the gunny sack and dragged it into the cave. It was time to take care of her personal paradise - something which she called "The Cave Garden". A place where she felt most whole and yet most broken - beauty, as they say, emerges from pain. And oh, the cave gardens she could create spoke of the beauty and spoke of the pain too.
But even if Stoneville was a place where she felt the lack of something, something beyond the material happiness and the subjective needs, even if that place proved to be the world's incompetence to cope with cruelty of the ruling regime, even if that gloomy place was forgotten by time itself - that village was soon to welcome an ancient soul. Maybe, just maybe, the soul that Savia was looking for...the soul of a true king...
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