Sometimes life, life is something else. Chants of 'bastard! Bastard!' woke me from my uncomfortable sleep. I say bumpy because I had tossed and turned so many times that I can somehow estimate my total sleep time was not more than two hours. And here, these chants started. They sounded distant at first, as if a crowd of humans were marching towards a certain point, and I knew those chants boded no good. I knew…I knew. As I tried to listen again, my attentiveness was veiled, as my door flew open. There stood my father in his robe and sleeping cardigan, right at the foot of my bed. "Come as you are, we are leaving!" were the words he uttered, not soft, not harsh… a command. I did or didnot fully understand why, but after hearing the chants, I was, of course, no fool to disregard such statements. The chants were growing louder, like herds of cows nearing their home. I quickly grabbed an old leather bag, packed up some of my clothes, and went to where my father was, finding him engaged in hushed conversation with Jaykim. Jaykim was already fully dressed, whereas I was still in my simple sleeping attire. "Father, in your presence," I said, offering a slight bow.
"May we meet again, Willock," my father replied, then left for his office. Perhaps sensing my confusion, Jaykim explained, "We have to leave, your lordship, or you shall meet the same fate as your other brothers and sisters." I simply nodded in agreement and followed him steadily.
This was the first time I had walked such a long distance on foot. As a noble, you must know that our preferred mode of transportation was carriages and the like. But there I was, walking. I can vividly recall the many thick bushes we had to dodge and the countless watchful eyes we had to evade... it was undoubtedly quite an endeavor. After the arduous journey, we finally reached the Lake Tigris boat cliff center. A solitary boat was moored there, with someone seemingly pedaling it. Jakim instructed me to wait while he went to inspect the boat and perhaps converse with the person in charge. Following what felt like a lengthy conversation, he beckoned for me to join them. I hastened my steps as best as my legs could manage at then moment. The weather was relatively mild, I might say. There was a chill in the air, as expected with the approach of dawn. The chants that had echoed loudly near my father's place were now faint and distant. As the stout, gray-haired man guided the boat for us to begin our journey, a sudden shout came from behind, "Stop that boat, or you too shall meet the fate of the unwanted!" It was a male voice, harsh and filled with anger.
Anticipating the man's command, I watched this gray-haired man hasten the boat's departure, pedaling as swiftly as possible. "There's no other boat in the bay. They'll have to wait until dawn for another to arrive. By then, we'll be far, perhaps even close to Wales. There, you'll find a man named Armstrong. He'll guide you through what comes next as directed by the duke. Your lordship, may you remember us when you one day sit on the throne of honor." He stated, doing his boat ship deeds. Exhausted and lacking a sweater, I felt the cold keenly and as if realizing, Jaykim asked, "Is there a place where the lordship can rest?" "Downstairs in this boat, there's a small cabin. He can rest there, for a true journey awaits him," the gray-haired man replied. Jaykim guided me to the room, leading the way as I followed. The room was surprisingly adequate for a boat—perhaps "ship" would be a more fitting term, although not as grand in size. It could accommodate a fair number of people. "Rest well, your lordship. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call upon me," Jaykim assured me in a tone that reminded me of my noble status, the son of a duke. Perhaps, over the course of my future challenges and days, he would come to address me by my name.
As I lay my head on the soft mat, my mind began to race. Thoughts whirled around, spiraling into various scenarios. I pondered my uncertain future, contemplating if I would ever be welcomed back as a noble in the land of England. Amidst these thoughts, one particular idea surfaced and captured my attention. What if I started anew as a farmer, beginning my journey as a commoner? And later, I could reach out to my friend Amir, the prince of Iraq, whom I had met during my travels. Amir was more than a friend; he felt like a brother. Despite our infrequent correspondence, I believed he still held our bond dear, as it sure was dear… we had done hefty of deeds together, maybe one day I shall tell of.
I couldn't determine how long I had slept when Jaykim roused me. "Time is short. We must confront the minister of the slay. Leave, your lordship, and make your way to the hotel near the market, Assafied Clyff as it is to be named. Look for a tall, well-built man named Armstrong. Give him this," Jaykim said, handing me a well-sealed letter. "He'll know what to do next. Wait for him, and if you get lost, inquire about the hotel. It's been an honor assisting you. Your growth into an intelligent and handsome young man has been remarkable. You will overcome this challenge. When it's all over, reach out to us or return. Our doors will always be open to you. You have a long journey ahead. Stand strong, unyielding like a baboo tree, even when life becomes turbulent. Farewell, and here are some words from your father to guide you through. (giving me a book that seemed to old.)" With a respectful bow, he left me on the shores of the lake, watching as the boat gradually disappeared into the distance. Dawn had arrived sure, as the sun's rays painted the eastern horizon and sky in shades of gold and orange or yellow, not sure how the books utter. It was already dawn, I can just state. I stood there, observing the boat's fading silhouette, and a sense of solitude, nostalgia, and loss washed over me. I needed to find my resolve. I reminded myself of that as I turned and set off along an unfamiliar path, hoping to locate the nearby market, as instructed.
Miles passed, and my feet grew heavy under the intensifying sun. This was the harshest experience I had ever encountered. My thoughts felt parched, and my face was coarse to the touch -little, indeed. My clothes were already dirty, and I could feel sweat sticking through the fabric. Despite the discomfort, I didn't emit any unpleasant odors; my father's potent fragrances always managed to suppress any signs of sweat, even after the longest of workdays.
After the lengthy walk from the beach, I reached a point where men were peddling their fish. Deciding to inquire, I approached one and said, "Hello, sir." My voice seemed to startle him a bit, causing a slight hesitate, but he simply then observed me and nodded. "I'm looking for a town, or rather a hotel named Assafied Clyff. Ever heard of its name?" I stated, after the little stutters. Right after I mentioned the hotel, his gaze swept me from head to toe, and suddenly offered a faint grin. "Not for you. You don't qualify," he replied casually, or maybe sarcastically, returning his attention to his fish. I was taken aback,…how could he? I,… the duke..well the son of a duke,…well the son of I don't,, okay a bastard.. okay nobody..come on how? I voiced my request, and yet it was promptly declined. How rude and uncouth of him to respond like this. "Sir, I would greatly appreciate it if you could show me," I persisted. He shrugged dismissively as he continued to handle the fish. "Any eyes for gold?" I declared, prompting him to look up at me. Remembering at the moment, how father often used financial persuasion, honestly, so, it wasn't an option, it was something like a want… you have to do it. Guess questioning father's behavior was at large a bad decision from me. My apologies wherever you are. "Name your price." I continued "Ten," he stated firmly. "Ten gold coins,.. how sir." He just met my gaze and ignorantly resumed his work. I was desperate, and luckily my father had provided me with a substantial amount of gold coins before I left. I had a significant sum, around a hundred coins, in addition to what I had earned from the minor shipments—an extra thousand coins or so. Money wasn't an issue, but I was also concerned about carrying such a fortune openly. Without saying another word, he began walking, glancing back to check if I followed. "Am I showing you, or am I mistaken?" he asked. I shook my head and hastened to keep up with him.
"So, where do you come from?" he inquired, attempting to initiate a conversation. I was unwilling to disclose my origins to anyone -absolutely anyone. "You don't seem to be from around here..." he added, and I walked in silence, hoping to convey that I wasn't interested in conversation. People who could so easily trade actions for currency could just as easily exchange information. That thought seemed to come to me naturally—quite astute, I suppose. Recognizing my reluctance to respond, he eventually ceased his efforts at communication and we walked on, my bag slung over my back and covered with a blanket, in case things went awry at my destination.
After navigating a few turns and encountering several individuals who seemed to know him, the man, I simply concluded him as widely known or perhaps even popular in the area, which I came to learn his name was Dango, at least by that nickname, I guess. The journey was grueling under the scorching sun, but we eventually reached the market. I assumed this was where the upscale restaurant was situated. Passing women selling various items, we entered a dimly lit passageway between market buildings and finally arrived at the establishment. The sign outside the door appeared faded—perhaps due to smoke or dust, though I couldn't be sure. The inscription read something akin to "Inn," as far as I could tell.
"We have arrived, my friend," he announced. As I was about to nod in acknowledgment, I noticed he was already wearing an expectant expression. It seemed clear he was awaiting payment. Retrieving the coins from my small leather bag, which I carried on my front side, I counted out the ten gold coins deliberately and offered them to him. "Thank you," I said. Oddly, he didn't utter a word in response. He simply left me there, lacking any intention to exchange further words. Perhaps there was a sense of eloquence, etiquette, or communication missing, but he evidently had no interest in prolonging the conversation at that point. Our transaction was concluded -showing me to the inn for ten coins was his obligation, and now it was done.
I stood there for a moment, quite a moment indeed, maybe seeing through what had just happened. Then finally turned, and made my way into the inn.