Nehrim:The Grey Blossom - Volume I
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The Grey Blossom - Volume I
(26th edition)
A woman cried in pain. A few passers-by looked up, puzzled, but went back to what they were doing shortly after. Breathing deeply, the woman whimpered. It echoed through the lane out onto the marketplace stinking of fish. Many merchants were offering their wares for sale. Some advertised their offers with loud shouts. It was a chaotic ado. An escort of Templar guards marched through the square. They too heard the woman. The guard at the front called out loudly and mockingly: "Oh, may the Gods have mercy on us for the birth of this baby!"
Laughing quietly, the escort passed by. Behind them, a cloud of dust formed that quickly sank back down onto the dirty pavement. It was the filthy paving of Ostian's poor district. The sun was high in the cloudless, blue sky. The seagulls cried, the waves were rushing and a scorching, heavy heat lay upon the land - as usual. A soft breeze swept in from the sea.
The woman's contractions got worse. She gripped her husband's hand, standing to her right, so hard that he was close to yelling like she was. But he loved her and would not let go. He was quite a young, strong man. He sat, covered in sweat, on a frail wooden stool and supported his wife. He looked at her caringly though piercing blue eyes. The woman tried to smile, returning his gaze.
Another older woman wiped the sweat off the mother's forehead and gave her incomprehensible instructions. She too was very tense.
The woman raised her voice for one last time. The contractions had reached their worst. For a short moment, all was silent. The mother sighed loudly. Her husband kissed her softly and looked at her, overjoyed. His eyes were shining with tears, and the woman's too. "Thankyou, Feodor", she whispered.
The midwife also smiled in joy. She wrapped the baby in a linen blanket and carefully handed him to his mother. "A healthy boy!", she said. "Everything there." "We are grateful to you from all our heart", the father spoke. The mother nodded in agreement.
The midwife politely said goodbye, quickly packed her things and left the dark room. In front of the mother there was a ramshackled cupoboard, to its left a low table with two stools. On the opposite wall, to the left of the bed, there was an antique oven. Two tiny windows scarcely lit up the bed where the woman was now lying with her beloved child. Feodor, the father, sat down on the bed to the woman's left and examined his son. He relaxed his hand from the tight grip of his wife. They seemed to lie there for an eternity.
The hustle and bustle outside continued as if nothing had happened. It smelt of fish, the sun shone and it was loud. The mass of people in the market square thoughtlessly carried on with their duties.
A whole week passed by. The family lay united on the little bed as often as possible. The parents waited for the boy to open his eyes, but it did not happen yet. They were worried.
Sometimes early in the morning, Feodor forgot to get to work on time. He had begun a long apprenticeship to become a master smith at a blacksmith's in the temple. He still had the rank of a novice. He helped his master create weapons, armour, farming apparatus and tools - all for the temple. Their pay for that wasn't bad. The master got most of it, of course. He lived on the first floor above the smith in a quarters that was quite noble for the standards of Ostian's poor district.
Although Feodor lived with his wife and child in a single dark hole, but there was always enough food. They even saved a little money that was left over. The parents were saving for a new living quarters closer to the temple. The nearer one got to it, the higher the wealth got. And interestingly, the taxes there were decreased by a little. However, only a few ever managed to get into the noble quarter or even the temple itself.
The mother was mostly at home. Like all the others, she took care of the household duties. Whether or not a woman liked doing it depended on who she was doing it for. The love between her and Feodor was young and happy.
She was even happy not to have to work hard in a stuffy steel smith, like her husband. Every day she went down the steps to the marketplace, her son bound to her chest, and looked at the wide range of fruit and vegetables with care. In the end she always came across the same merchant who always offered the best for a low price: Fredo, an old codger, one would say; a thin old man with shining brown eyes and a grey beard on his chin. They knew each other by now. "Aryona!", he cried out, his voice breaking slightly. She went over and examined his fruit aswell and came to the conclusion that they were the freshest and the cleanest. As customary, he charged her two or three coins less. After she packed her small purchase into a thick cloth bag, they mostly talked about the weather, the guards' insolence or the next merchant and how badly he was bargaining.
However, today they talked about something else, and that was Aryona's child. "The nose, the mouth. Both are completely after your pretty face", he often pointed out. Everytime he stroked the baby softly he had to smile uncontrollably, which made her grin too.
The child stirred only on the first day when Fredo touched him. The old man merely said: "It'll be alright." Today the child seemed to like Fredo. He grinned too.
Aryona thanked him for the pleasant conversation and climbed the steps back up to her quarters. It was early and the sun was not high in the sky. The air was pleasantly mild, for this reason the mother enjoyed being outside when it was like that.
She entered the dark room. From outside the muffled sound of the ado at the market was to be heard. It was nearly idyllic.
But Aryona had forgotten to get water. In haste, she lay the small boy down on the bed. He quickly fell asleep.
The mother put her shopping on the table, grabbed a large bucket and scurried to the well that stood at the northwesternly edge of the marketplace. Luckily she did not have to wait, for she was late as opposed to the other women who had collected their water at sunrise already.
There was actually a better way to get water. Ostian was located next to the sea – if the salty water had been condensed and collected, it could have been supplied better to the people of the waterfront district. Then they wouldn't have to haul the heavy water bucket the whole long way back to their homes. But the temple ruled over the town and it shunned all costs and efforts for others. A seat of power could not be more egoistical and for this, Aryona hated the institution. Feodor had a different opinion, but he was due to, for it was the temple that recompensed him and his family.
Aryona was lost in thoughts as she let down the rope with the bucket. It echoed loudly out of the hole as it landed in the water. The woman was torn from her thoughts and pulled the heavy bucket back up. As it reached the top, she took it in both hands and hobbled back towards her house.
Suddenly a guard, coming from her left, knocked her down, by accident. The water spillled out of the bucket across the pavement. Aryona lay in the dirty puddle. The guard hesitated. From behind him, another called: "Come on, leave her alone!" The man shook his head and helped Aryona to her feet. "My apologies", he managed to say and hurried on. She didn't answer. That guard was a lanky one, at least, not as muscular as the others. He was even polite. The mother didn't like the guards, for they were also from the temple and in their religion it is said: "The human is a sinful creature that stains the holy earth of our Gods." Many exploited this and treated the people accordingly. Except for others of their ilk, of course. "All of whom are honourable men who maintain and bring forth the religion and its righteous message." - No, all of them were morons maintaining the religion and its righteous message to exploit the poor.
Aryona, just like everyone else, had to go to the temple at least once a week, although she was not very religious. There, the priests demanded taxes in the form of donations for the holy land of Nehrim. Nobody really knew what it was spent on in the end, but the money wasn't used donated the land at all.
In any case, the message of the Gods was true, every single word. Humans really are terribly sinful. They declare war upon another and hurt nature in the process. If a human is insulted, animal names are used, when in fact, these creatures are proud and good. They didn't exploit one another and only took from nature what they really needed. If they bothered humans then only to defend themselves..
"Human" should be an insult!
The rulers of the temple were such "humans". They twisted the message in their favour. And for what? - for money.
In this world, without money you were a nobody. Money is a universal medium used for rewards and oppression. The seat of power in Ostian used the latter to get rich. Money meant happiness and it was an intoxicating drug for the bastards in the pompous temple who were addicted to it.
However, the people who, out of fear, just sat back and didn't take action were just as sinful and despicable.
Aryona lost herself in her thoughts again and got some new water without thinking about the clumsy guard.
She hauled the heavy bucket up the steps of the plateau whereupon was the row of houses in which she lived with her family. She didn't notice how people were staring at her because she looked so dirty and neglected.
Quietly, the woman disappeared behind the door.
Her son was still sleeping. She put the bucket down next to the oven and undressed to wash herself with a thin cloth. She threw the old, dirty clothes onto a stool and put on some fresh ones. Aryona was a very beautiful woman.
A few moments later, the child awoke. He was screaming like a banshee. Not surprising, he hadn't eaten anything that day so far. The mother knew what to do of course and fed her little child she loved so much. For nearly one hour she sat there, clutching her baby who nearly fell asleep in the procedure. He seemed to enjoy the scent of his mother.
The day went by. Aryona lay her child on the bed and did her household chores. She ate some of Fredo's juicy apples as she swept the dusty floor. Everything was made of wood. If she washed it too often with water, it would become mouldy. The wood houses were old. Soon after, she cleaned the walls with a brush aswell.
The work was done in no time, for the house was not very big.
She lay down on the bed next to her child. She was actually faring well, at least as long as she didn't come into contact with the institution of the temple. Others were less fortunate, for their husbands did not work for the temple. Some people who lay stoned in the streets, wasting away, were a good reason for a revolution. But how could one revolt together with such sods? People wanted to ignore them. The main thing was to not sink into that misery themselves.
Aryona didn't want to think of those things again. She fell asleep.
A loud knock was heard on the closed door. The mother jumped. The child slept on calmly. "Who is there?", she asked.
"I'm back from work, Aryona". She opened the door. Feodor stood before her. They both embraced; the man was covered in sweat.
"Was it tiresome work?", she asked.
"It's alright in the smith; it's stuffy but I find the job no trouble.", he replied and took a large sip of water from the clay jug.
"You had a lot of time to think. Have you come up with a name for our son? We must get a birth certificate for our son. That's not easy without a name, you know.", Feodor said calmly.
"Well, it's not easy. I find it's too early for a name. The little one hasn't even opened his eyes yet. He is still too "undescribed" to give him a name."
The father stared at his son and whispered: "Of course he can open his eyes."
Aryona turned around and gaped.
The small child stared at the roof and waved his hands around in front of his face. He had light grey-green eyes. This colour was hard to describe. It was a light grey with a hint of green.
The mother bent down over her son. They both stared at one another. She had the feeling that her child was looking into the depths of her soul. He gurgled after a lengthy eye contact. The woman picked him up.
The child's gaze was piercing yet not eerie. It was not cold or callous - on the contrary, his eyes were beaming.
"He is something special", the mother said. The father was speechless. He stroked his baby and was under the spell of his mere smile.
"I have never seen such eyes in my whole life", he said happily.
"Do you know the saying: "Eyes are the window to the soul"?", Aryona asked.
"Then our son must have a great soul."
"I have a name.. how about 'Seylon'?"
Feodor thought about it.
"Not bad. It has something.. mystical to it."
And so the parents agreed.
Together they sat down at the table and ate their evening meal. Fredo's fruit tasted good and was eaten all up.
The child fell into a deep sleep again at his mother's breast. He breathed calmly and slowly. Seylon felt secure with his mother and father. They meant everything to him.
