Love is rebellion against the divine order—and laughter its final defiance.
The Velmoria Imperium held sway over several vassal states, one of them was Caldraveth, the Oasis of Prosperity. A jewel of the Imperium, it sat in the heart of Sereplain—a wasteland of scorched stone and badlands that yielded little but dust.
Yet inside its walls, the city teemed with greenery and villas draped in rich motifs.
But the mirage of the Oasis of Prosperity was laid bare outside its walls.
A strange, four-lane road stretched from the city gates to the horizon. It seemed to move and pause, wail and groan; a living vein pulsing across the sand. Only upon closer inspection did the illusion shattered: the road was made up of millions of people.
Their density and motion had given them the deceptive semblance of a living road. These were the pilgrims—the manual engines of Caldraveth's survival.
In two lanes, thousands flowed out of the gates in tattered rags, their limbs shackled by iron chains just loose enough to allow for labor. In the other two, they returned, hauling massive cargo crates that sometimes required thirty men to move a single cart.
Their faces were etched with anguish, their eyes hollow, and their status as slaves and outcasts all but written on their flesh in grime and sweat.
Among this sea of slaves, only one woman's eyes still held a spark. Specks of longing that refused to be extinguished despite all that she endured.
As Caldraveth's gateway approached, the speck of longing swelled, becoming almost uncontainable. She unloaded the cargo and humbly accepted a trifling sum from a stout merchant.
"Thank you, good sir," she said meekly. The merchant did not bother to reply, casting only a disdainful glance at her.
Paying the merchant no mind, she briskly entered the city gate and hurried through the streets. Her body throbbed with pain, but she moved anyway.
Finally, she stopped at a humble establishment, a café with the signboard—King's Delight. A title full of wry humour, considering the lower strata of its clientele.
Making her way inside, she approached the Manager, her old friend. He had been entrusted with the café's management as a reward for his lifelong loyalty and service to the city's nobility.
She greeted her old friend, the Manager, and asked, "My girls?"
The Manager, a middle-aged man of skinny build, softened at the sight of his friend's safe return.
He greeted her back, and pointed at the far end of the café. The Mother's eyes darted to where the Manager had pointed; on a table for four, an adolescent girl was reading a book to her young sister.
"And so the knight died a peaceful death, leaving behind a life filled with regrets," the older sibling read aloud.
The younger sister grumbled, "What? How can the brave knight die? The book is barely halfway done."
"Do you want me to spoil it? Keep talking and I will."
Suddenly, a frail woman in tattered clothes tightly hugged the older sibling from behind.
"Maa!" The younger sister jumped from her seat and hugged her mother.
Squeezing both girls in a snug embrace and kissing their cheeks, she spoke, "How are my girls? Are you eating well? Is anyone bothering you? Tell Manager-uncle, he'll solve it, and.."
The older sister interrupted, "One thing at a time, Mum... one thing at a time."
"Maa, sis won't read me The Haunted Castle. I'm not a child—I can handle blood... and foul language. Tell her," the younger sibling said.
The Mother fought back a smile, trying to keep a stern face as she looked at her daughter. She put on a stern voice, and said, "Let your sister read what she wants, yes, child." Then furtively signalled her otherwise: do not.
The older sister played along: "Yes Mum, I'll read whatever pipsqueak wants me to."
Apparently taken aback, the younger sister shook her mother's shoulder and spoke, "Maa, you heard this fiend call your daughter pipsqueak. Punish her now." Sneakily, she gave her sister a mocking smirk.
The older sister retorted, "Don't pretend like I call you anything else, 'squeak."
"I remember runt, shrimp, and all the other mean ones you called me!"
The siblings locked themselves into a staring contest with neither willing to relent. Baffled, the Mother made her quick escape from this predicament: "Who wants to eat something delicious? Let me ask Manager-uncle."
Left alone with her sister, the younger sibling despaired.
The Mother did not take long to return, but the younger sister had become inexplicably docile.
Placing snacks on the table, the Mother asked, "Love, what will you have?"
The younger sister opened her mouth to speak, but stopped short of saying anything. Taking a measured glance at her sister—sitting calmly, eyes closed—she spoke solemnly, "I will eat anything, so please, Maa and my dear sister..."
The older sister coughed a little; the younger sister's demeanor grew more pliant, and as she continued, "... Maa and my dear beautiful sister, please eat."
The Mother had an incredulous expression; she turned to her older child for answers. But the older sibling was already engrossed in her drinks and snacks, almost as if deliberately avoiding her mother's eyeline.
Indulging themselves in a hearty meal, the family enjoyed a delightful time.
"Dear, if you need more blankets or anything, let me know," the Manager of King's Delight addressed the Mother while patting the younger sibling.
"Yes, of course. And thank you for everything, friend."
Taking her mother's lead, the older sister spoke, "Thank you, Uncle." And bowed slightly.
Oblivious to basic courtesies, the younger sibling remained fixated on her food. A slight nudge from her sister prompted a response: "Thangk oo berry mush, Unca." Giving a quick bow, she resumed stuffing her face.
The joyous reunion continued for a while before the night fell. They went into bed inside a room in King's Delight, just large enough for the three of them. The children fell asleep the moment they hit the bed, clutching their Mother. The Mother, though, remained awake ruminating about her bittersweet day.
Even after hours passed, she was yet to catch a moment's respite. Sleep eluded, despite her body screaming for it. She pressed her older daughter to her chest as an ominous realization dawned on her. She is almost of age.