Open Chronicles Through the golden ages to a bright present and future

[Harun Ahidjar]

Harun followed along behind his company, but could not help but be continually distracted by all the literature and ornate furnishing that met his ever wandering gaze. Much of the ruling class could boast of such a collection, but it had always been just that; a collection of interesting and valuable items gathered in one place. All for no other purpose but to show it of and make evident that they had the ability and power to enable it. Here was a collection of art, literature and architecture not displayed as means of vanity, but as expression of passion and as works to be shared. He carried the notion with him as he followed; a warmth in his soul to accompany the rumbling of his stomach.

Again, he shifted in stifled surprise at the continuing whispers; giving a look to The White Swallow walking ahead, from whom the sound clearly did not emanate from. Then, the voice sounded like it might be his own inner thoughts, until the last sentence broke from statement he agreed with.

Catching his pace after his moment of bewilderment, Harun continued along; finally forcing himself to process what he was hearing. This was a voice that would continue to speak; that much was clear. But what had chosen him, he wondered? Spirits? Unseen arcana? Madness?

He continued along, albeit now a bit more alert for this strange phenomenon to repeat itself again.

 

[White Swallow]

The outside was merely a step away, and so, they now stood before the stairs that led into the military zone.
Scholars and doctors seemed nearly out of place against a backdrop of soldiers training impressive feats of agility. This went on daily with some exception.

The White Swallow peered back at Harun, waiting for him to catch up before leading him across the stretch of land.
There were some foundations still remaining of gardens once luxurious, as well as wasteful fountains and elaborate pathways.
Most have since been replaced with local flora and trees. Only in the places where the soldiers trained did it look barren and dusty.

» What has prompted you to visit Sey'Kube from so far away? A permanent station Maraan seems like quite a stable one. Though it is true that the northern realms are enjoying a brief respite of peace currently.«

 

[Harun Ahidjar]

Had he not received explanation from The White Swallow, he might have been taken aback at the sight of the soldiers training so nearby. Without so many visual distractions as the library had offered, and without the audible sensation of the strange voice, Harun followed attentively behind his companion at a bit of a slower pace.

It hardly took long for him to catch up, following along for the next leg of the journey. Had this area looked as ornate as it had in the past, Harun might have found himself distractable again.

“Oh, Maraan definitely has been, and I’ve done quite well there. But my post as scribe has afforded me both the resources to travel, and the curiosity to motivate it. Why, it’s precisely because it's so far away that I travelled such distance. A great sight is worth a great journey; a statement I can now confirm true.” He spoke happily in response to his companion’s question.

“The recent peacetime and the safety it brings is certainly a factor, too.” He added with a warm smile.

 

[White Swallow]

The library in comparison to the fresh outside seemed almost overbearing in hindsight. Exiting that place felt as if leaving the cold grip of a ghost. Perhaps literally, but most likely it was the warm heat of the sun, pleasantly 'melting' one's skin.

If one gazed closely, a light, pinkish crescent of Pneria up above the city line, as well as the dim during daylight shine of one of the four guardian stars.)

» Such freedom is admirable, do you plan to spend your wisened years exploring the world?«
The two passed by a cavalry unit going through their drills. The White Swallow bowed briefly as a glance from a commander crossed with his.

 

[Harun Ahidjar]

As interesting as the library had been, there was comfort in being outside again; perhaps the place was less remarkable, but far more familiar. It was as warm a day in Amol-Kalit as any other, and the sun’s rays beaming down on his skin brought further comfort, along with hope that the voice from the library was left behind. The eerie voice that had spoken likely wouldn’t be audible out beneath the open sun; at least, he didn’t think so. As learned as he was, he wasn’t sure whether or how sunlight might bid away spiritual communication. He could not even be sure spirits had been the cause, but the notion seemed plausible enough to alay his concerns.

Unlike most Harun chose to dwell in Maraan permanently. The summers were good business, and the winters provided a nice and quiet environment for reading. As nobility, Harun was always aware that his lot in life is good. Maraan was stable, and it had at least remained peaceful – Travels through lands recently torn by war was a grim reminder of the blessing of peace his homeland held that others did not.

“It is a gift to be sure. And I think I might; the gods-... life grants us one opportunity to see the world, I dare not squander it.” He replied with a warm smile, perhaps tinged with a touch of fret at his self-correction. In his youth he had been a bit more set on making accomplishments and establishing himself; perhaps much like the White Swallow. But as time runs out, the pressing need to spend what remains wisely began to take the forefront.

The mere fact that he was out travelling was perhaps as meaningful to him as the rewarding sights he saw. Almost.

 

[White Swallow]

The White Swallow was not the kind of person to attribute the man-made to a higher power. » Yet it Is...so easily taken. « It was so fragile.
» Do you have taste for mutton? «
As they passed the soldiers, it seemed like the city proper was nowhere near close to them.
The layout of Sey'Kube always seemed weird to most people. On one end, a massive garden almost more than a third of the whole footprint, on the other a palace which is now a vast empty land.
And in the middle?
A sprawling city set in multiple districts; most would say roughly 6 districts, two of which are neatly terraced.
Separated by creed, ethnicity, profession.

 

[Harun Ahidjar]

With an uncomfortable shift of his eyebrow, Harun looked to his companion at the statement he made. Words fitting of a warrior by profession, but the truthful observation was harrowing to overhear aloud. He had never taken a life, nor ever wished to. Despite his aversion to violence, the humble scribe would hesitate to call himself a pacifist. True, lasting peace seemed unreachable ideal; even Harun knew that his well being and safety had been secured the soldiers standing ready to inflict violence on his behalf.

"I very much do; you make a fine suggestion." he replied with warm tone. As the two trekked on, he looked at the scenery before him; the very layout was constant reminder that he had travelled far from Maraan. Both the style and layout were of likeness he had not seen - until this day, when such sights had become reward of his travel.

"These lands are very different from all I have seen. And very beautiful too." He uttered, continuing to take in the sight of it all. The architecture beckoned for his curious gaze; and Harun required truly little prompting to give it.

 

[White Swallow]

Closer they came to the city proper with each step. Buildings tall and narrow, covered in vines, flowers and date trees.
It seems that the cities of the Seret were more visually intriguing than those of the south. Even Maraan, so full of life and coloured in fabric from all around the world could not compare its plain beige walls with these.
Jaleyaana was famous for Its blue streets, Kamarhan and its blue and orange mosaic roads, Al Halaqas and its green frames, yet Sey'kube though, the walls of these buildings were painted in naive floral design, or had etchings of the seed of life above their doors.
It truly deserved the moniker, the Gem of the North.
» Then you will not be disappointed, « motioned the White Swallow towards some streets. It'd take a bit of wandering to get there, but what he ultimately wanted to lead to, was a small locale with a shady veranda. The smell of that place would probably be beyond heaven for those with an empty stomach.
» I would reckon so, considering you came from the sands. If you spare to go outside; you probably already saw some of the fine brush passing from the south. The ericoid foliage often has Elbion scholars lost for days, a sight to behold, truly.«

 

[Harun Ahidjar]

Having never set sight nor foot upon this land before in his life, he had arrived with only awareness imparted through what he'd managed to find and read of. Those texts had done much to pique his curiosity, but no written accounts could have ever done justice to experiencing the sights and sounds of the place firsthand. Maraan and Annuakat were cities of splendor too; Sey'kube's design seemed to emanate such genuine beauty. Grand and ornate, but refreshingly unboastful, Harun saw it as beauty for it's own sake, and not as testament to some great ruler who comissioned it.

“I have yet to be since I have arrived. This place is as remarkable as you are hospitible.” He replied, his warm and content smile still curled upon his face. While the sights around him demanded the attention of his eyes, the smell of cuisine wafting through the streets made demand of attention from his stomach; which it promptly gave with a rumble beneath a hand atop it.

“I have; this is a land of such life, especially when compared to those from whence I came. Such an unseen gem hidden away.” He added; but no sooner than he did, did he recall why it might be so. That this place was a rare sight hidden away was a necessity. While he was truly a sightseer in search of rare locales, he had learned of why this land was so rare. Continued kindness from a man who reasonably ought despise him only furthered the compassion felt. Theologically; he could hold no agreement with the White Swallow. Ethically, however, Harun held the man in admiration.

“And tragic that it need be hidden so.” He concluded.

 

[White Swallow]

There they were, »But, it is safer that way. And, I am humbled, sir. But, this world is not my own, are we not all guests of our lord? « The White Swallow concluded with a semi-open question as they entered the small establishment.
The soldier greeted the owners, who directed them to a vacant corner beneath a cool shade.
The smell was divine, but the White Swallow refrained from food, as he already had his rations provided for him.
» Primetime for lunch and rest, what will it be? « Ashed one of the owners, a still young miss with only one child to account for.
» Tea, Hibiscus, « the Swallow answered for himself.
The tea was cheaper up here north, and in fact, it was the prized Narra Hibiscus that was imported here.

 

[Harun Ahidjar]

“Ah, very true. We are all but guests on this world after all” He gave his reply, affirming the attitude of his companion. War and conquest were facets of life, and peace a privilege when he could enjoy it. Were it up to him peace would be far more common, but such matters were not in hands like his.

While his safety was the result of the standing army that discouraged invasion, whether or not nations were at war was a decision left to their leaders; most always in the pursuit of riches and power. Harun often wondered the point of it all.

He had plenty, he knew that. While it might have been preferable to have even more to his name, such pursuit of wealth often became an endeavour to it’s own purpose. Alas, that was simply how the world worked; and how it always would. Better to enjoy the life he had been given to live, he figured.

Stepping inside into the shade brought relief from the sun beaming down upon him.

“Do you have mint tea? If not, I would like a hibiscus as well.” Harun responded to the young owner, his tone soft and polite.

 

[White Swallow]

The owner nodded in affirmation to Harun, though they served good mint tea flavoured with anise, it was no famed Jaleyaanan green tea. » Would you like something to eat as well? « .They were offering plates which looked like a dish made out of meat, couscous, various vegetables and spices. While there wre other dishes around, either made out of camel meat or beef, none had as an inticing smell as this mix.

 

[Harun Ahidjar]

He took the offered tea in hand with a smile and a thanks. It was among his favourites back in Maraan, and as tempting as the hibiscus has been he could not help but sample the mint tea in this unfamiliar location. Both rich in and different of culture, he mused he could spend many days here and hardly scratch the surface of this formerly unknown land.

“I would please, and much so. I’ve arrived hungry, a state only strengthened by that delightful smell.” He added, his eyes gazing at one of the plates of tempting food carried through the establishment.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what to call that dish, but I would love a plate of it please.” Harun requested, the delicious scent still hanging in the air.

 

[White Swallow]

» House speciality, I hope that you will enjoy it, « the owner replied, leaving to fetch a serving of the dish and arriving a few minutes later and placing the plate before the scholar.


»There are a myriad of variants on such a dish, « The White Swallow commented, averting his gaze to the rather vacant street. At this time when the sun was the highest, most people preferred to stay indoors. Soldier drills would also conclude at this time.

 

[Harun Ahidjar]

“Oh, I’m sure it shall.” He replied, still savouring the enticing smell before the meal was brought to him. He paused for a moment, not knowing if there was any sort of custom before eating served food. He’d read of some who spoke mantra or prayer beforehand; he’d not met any, but wished to spare himself the potential social blunder through his caution.

But from his companion no such sacred remark would come, only remarks of the dish before him. Sensing that decorum was not keeping him from his food, Harun began with a bite, looking over the meal after doing so. It was a varied dish as The White swallow pointed out, and Harun reflected it was a good choice. Having wished to experience this city’s cuisine, it was a boon to have been brought so much selection on a single dish before him.

“Much so; though they definitely compliment each other.” He remarked once able, with a nod before continuing with his meal.

 

[White Swallow]

»Perhaps you should stay to taste all the variants. My close friend of many years still longed for his mother's cooking, nobody made it like her! « He lightly chuckled. » I am not picky when it comes to food, « his tone calmed down a little more, stirring the tea with swaying motions of his hand.

Briefly, he tilted his head down and lifted his shawl over his mouth to take a sip here and then, enjoying every movement between. His export from home was quite a pride to any Narranian Sereti.

He continued to stir the tea in his hand, coming to a thought.
»Have you ever writen poetry? «

 

[Harun Ahidjar]

“A fine suggestion; I've certainly the appetite and time for it. Hah! Your friend expresses a shared sentiment.” It was true enough; though he'd eaten many such home-cooked meals, he'd trade the plate before him for another in a heartbeat. It had been nearly a decade since he'd have been able to enjoy such a meal from the his late mother. It hardly felt nor seemed that long ago, until he counted out the years.

“I used to be more so if you believe it; but I've grown more relaxed and experimental with my palate in years.” Harun replied to the statement that followed. He did much the same as The White Swallow to stir his tea before setting the vessel of swirling liquid on the table to enjoy another bite of the steaming array of food.

“You know, odd that you should ask. I do; though I haven't really published any of it. A few works under commission, not my own name. Most of what I've written I've kept myself.” He replied, looking up from his meal to his company to do so.

 

[White Swallow]

And in turn, such a sentiment was shared in many of his companions, from those recruited from goat-herders to those who were sons of nobles and took their ascetic vow. The cuisine one grew up with was incomparable to that of the wide world.

»If you feel confident about them, you should consider publishing. Writing a single copy by hand, the Jaleyaanan scripture mages can reproduce it further.«

 

[Harun Ahidjar]

“I’ve not published anything before but the thought has crossed my mind. I’ve not even submitted anything, the process is a costly one, beyond my reach really.” A work of literature could only make it so far; scribes like himself would have to transcribe it, and the written work of great enough importance for the arduous task. Not that Harun had been terribly fussy over what works he copied, but he could not deny that his time carried a price – anything he copied ought to be important, by virtue of the fees charged. Publishing was a distant dream, unless he were to transcribe it himself. He knew some peers who had done just that, but spending his remaining years copying even more texts held little appeal. Harun wanted to explore, to live.

Of course, that was in Maraan. Here in Sey’Kube, Harun had seen more scribes in one place than he ever had before. He still carried the desire in him to write; perhaps one of his poems might be worth the submission. And even were that not so, it would be outcome pleasant enough to have spent effort to add to great collection of literature observed here today. It was good to simply know such a place existed.

“Well if I may, I would be honoured to submit what I’ve held on to. If they are suitable, I’d be enthralled for them to have a home here” He answered happily.

 

[White Swallow]

»I hope you remember any by heart! « The White Swallow spoke in a more lofty tone this time around, taking the very same motions to drink his tea once more.

»I would like to hear any, might even help you remember them for the initial transcription.« As most texts were copied here, they were done initially by the mages of the Jaleyaanan school of scripture magics, who also taught how to infuse a medium in magick to be receptive to copying.
Theor secrets, however, were well guarded and only a few mages are thought how to teach such a skill.

 

[Harun Ahidjar]

“Hah, I did know several off by heart, the ones I took most pride or happiness in. And poetry does have structure which helps; now, I’m sure I can piece some of them together.” Harun replied, before taking a sip of his tea in hand. In a musing moment of recollection, former certainty became eroded by doubt as he attempted to recall one such poem. It seemed he’d gotten most of it memorized; perhaps the rest would come to mind if he could recite it.

“I might remember it better if I spoke it aloud. I wrote it months ago on my travels. Not my best work, but a hasty record of what my muse caught upon sightseeing. Surely I can remember it.” He added, hoping he would. But there was no reason not to try, and so Harun gave it his attempt:

“Forests were cleared and nature beaten back
Grounds tamed long ago; upon them homes built.
Now it holds safety it formerly lacked
But carries neither excitement nor thrill

Departing these grounds maintained ever since,
I stray from the land I’ve known all these years
In my search of that which hasn’t been claimed
And discover myself fully convinced
That what I longed for was in distance here;
Yet also the past, a truly odd shame.”​

Well he wasn’t wrong, speaking out the words managed to rekindle his memory; enough of it that he managed to recite the poem word for word. A pleasant victory, then.

 

[White Swallow]

»How many poems, might have been forever forgotten, never shared or documented, « The White Swallow left out a brief thought before returning attention to the poem.

An ode to nature was it? A lament of a bygone era. Tragic. Or was it beckoning for a different kind of living?
»I would say it is worthy of attention and you should care to perhaps write it down as well. «

 

[Harun Ahidjar]

“I suppose one can only wonder; the joy I found was in the act of writing itself.” Harun gave a smile at the kind compliment, finding joy in the work twice now; one when he wrote it, and again now that he shared it. At the White Swallow's comment he too mused the same question.

What disorganized stacks of writing that lay around his home would never be seen where it was kept. It had only been the writing that motivated him, and he gave storage little regard. He knew nowhere to keep it – but he had not known of the repository that was the great library before, either. The writing would be better shared than thrown away, and even if he did not regard his own skills as worthy that seemed to matter little. Surely better to be read once and rejected than not at all.

“And thank you kindly for the compliment; I'm glad my poem was enjoyed.”

 

[White Swallow]

»In that case, I do hope you consider the offer. «
Not much longer, and the White Swallow's teacup was empty. All that was left was the elaborate cup. Incidentally, such wear was quite beautiful in these parts of Arethil. Little intricate glass cups that shifted colour depending on the angle the light hit them, and more so, patterns vaguely resembling flowers formed a ring across the cups midsection.
His eyes briefly lost, he looked over at Harun in silence.

 

[Harun Ahidjar]

“Ah if only I brought some of my work with me, though I could not have known.” Harun remarked, the rising steam wafting before his face as he took another sip of his tea. He’d spent a great deal of time reading and studying poetry, all without imagining that he might make such a contribution. Such a goal formerly seemed too lofty for attempt; but a privilege reserved for those with greater social status or connections. But that was under the viewpoint of a Maraanite, a city he was not presently in. There were no such barriers in Sey'Kube.

“I would accept now, but I've no work with me. So then, I shall have to return with it in hand.” He added cheerfully. The notion of having a home for his writing was quite pleasing, even if it was far from Harun's own dwelling. Not that Harun needed much encouragement to do so; having been delighted with the place, he was delighted to have a cause to return.