<img alt="" src="https://i.imgur.com/5MS1qsQ.jpg" style="float:left; padding:6px;"/><span style="font-size: 85%; line-height: 116%;">YEAR 2652, FALL</span><br/><span style="font-size: 85%; line-height: 116%;">ORJUN, USA</span>|<span style="font-size: 85%; line-height: 116%;">FORMERLY OREGON</span><br/><br/><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #cbc8c4">“So much of our history was erased, there was nothing left. I wonder what the world was like before, Pa.” </span>Isaiah glanced away from a guard who passed him by, a dog trotting beside him. Clearing his throat, he lifted his head and scanned the archers, moving slowly from one end of the Sacrifice's habitat to the other, using the reinforced wood and stone walkways. <br/><br/><span style="color: #808080">“I have wondered too, son,”</span> a puff of air escaped the lips of Isaiah's father, Jeremiah, as he contemplated the gates of Setal, always flung wide for the wealthiest of merchants, whether it was day or night.<span style="color: #808080"> “But I am worried for you, son.” </span> Jeremiah's eyes drooped as he eyed his son, <span style="color: #808080">“I am rarely at a loss for words but I think this may be one of those times.”</span><br/><br/>Isaiah beheld his father's gaze and smiled, revealing a set of perfectly white teeth,<span style="color: #cbc8c4"> “worry not, what's the worst that can happen?”</span> He placed the palm of a calloused hand over his father's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze,<span style="color: #cbc8c4"> “dying? it would happen sooner or later. ”</span> And the two men began to walk together across the inner courtyard, passing the celebrating crowd on their way to the banquet hall. People danced and participated in the sharing of traditional sweets and drinks. The streets were busy, decorated with flags, banners, and garlands.<br/><br/>When they arrived at the destination, Isaiah separated from his father. Jeremiah went to join his friends in the trade, and Isaiah moved with the grace of a cat to harvest a goblet of wine from a nearby table. While he's seen the Sacrifice before, the two have never spoken let alone allowed to be in proximity of one another. They were forbidden to make acquaintance or friend each other, and all of that for the sake of a successful mission.<br/><br/>To look presentable enough for the evening, Isaiah had to trade for money the recipe of medicinal elixir to relieve headaches. Tonight, a solid black inner tunic and breaches clothed him. He also opted for a close-fitting outer tunic of dark blue Byzantine silk which he purchased from a Spanish trader with bases in Roma and Pavia. The tunic had long sleeves with embroidered cuffs, and the collar was solid, backed at the neck, with a slanted neckline in the front. In length, the tunic reached slightly past the knees and was fastened low at the waist with a long black tooled leather ring belt covered in couched silver threads. The low edges of the tunic were embroidered with silver designs of sparrows and leaf patterns. A pair of black boots covered his feet and his shoulders were adorned with a black full-length cloak, worn swathed around in the Venetian style.<br/><br/>Ever since he became of age and was chosen by the Oracle as the guard who would accompany Aadhar's Sacrifice, Isaiah was taught the ways of swordsmanship, its graceful techniques and footwork, combined. He learned how to trap and parry, duck and dodge. He learned to be cunning, unforgiving and a tricky fighter for the sake of his survival during the mission. He learned to strive for powerful attacks for the sword relied on power. The mission was clear.<br/><br/>When Luljeta arrived and looked at him, Isaiah inclined his head slightly in greeting. She was hoisted onto a platform and the vast room quieted for the chanting. While the man chanting washed Luljeta's hands, Isaiah's gaze swept over the woman. He felt suddenly and distinctly uncomfortable in remembrance of Deuteronomy 12:31. She was about his age, if not a few years younger, and he could tell so by the glow of her youthful skin, and the vibrant locks of hair.<br/><br/>Even when the officiator chanted over him, it was hard to make out precisely what the man was saying, though he caught snatches of it. But Isaiah's pair of gray eyes remained on Luljeta, and so was his mind, wondering things about her. Rumors say that she was a fierce female fighter like no other, trained with fine skill, with fine art, that she was a deadly one, trained to finish her mission should her escort die, should <span style="font-style: italic">he </span>perish.<br/><br/>It was only when he rose from his kneeling position and stood up straight, that he looked away from the woman, hoping to catch a glimpse of his father, who he might soon never see again. The crowd resumed their dancing and singing and Isaiah was led to take a seat beside his forsaken companion. He took a deep breath and shakily let it out while they were served fruits, cheese, meats, breads and wine. In the light of a flame, his pupils widened and his icy gaze darkened as it flickered to Luljeta, contemplative.<span style="color: #cbc8c4"> “Isaiah ... my name,”</span> he introduced himself, speaking softly, but clearly. While he was a sympathetic person, he didn’t feel for this woman. What he was doing, he was doing it for the money, even though he knew that it was wrong. <br/><br/><span style="color: #CBC8C4">“How do you feel, if I may ask?”</span> He even tried to smile in her direction while raising his goblet to her brave, ageless will in cheers, but the sourness in his voice was unmistakable, and revolution was in the air on earth, as it was in heaven.</div><br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic">theme</span> <a class="postlink" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m4bN_CvH6X8">Merchant Prince</a> by TSFH</div>