Die, Der order Das?

The women must have been about twenty-something but the premature lines on her face told you she had already seen too much. She was wrapped in a thin shawl which had probably never been washed (in fact she was a whole, filthy) and the shoes on her feet had surely seen better days. She certainly wasn't ugly, just not beautiful, plain but not ugly? Yes, that seems about right. In her arms a messy bundle of rags whimpered softly.

Despite all this she walked with an open, purposeful stride and seemed to have an air of suppressed dignity about her, like the queen of a forgotten country. That was at least until she approached the door of the castle, she may have been queen amongst the slovenly peasant women but, these "nobles" where a different matter.

She pulled back her hood, revealing an unwashed mess of light brown (although you're guess is as good as mine) hair. She pulled a tattered ribbon out from somewhere amongst her filthy shawl and tied up her hair with it. After all, it wasn't every day you go into the castle of the Schezars.

Her business was not with them of course (what business would, could she have with them?) she have, but still the idea of being seen by them without her hair tied back like a proper surf was a miserable prospect.

The bundle in her arms stared to whimper slightly less softly. She stared to walk faster.

The gate to the castle was wide open, this was before the days that the evil power rose in the east and door and windows has to be bolted at all times. In those happier times folk, both rich and common could largely come and go as they pleased (or so it was said, the poor had no more freedom than to day, tied to the land as surely as the women's hair was tied to her empty head). Besides, Leon Schezar liked to show of his grounds. To the rich that is, she had no right to be there.

All her past confidence seemed to have left her, she still however, moved quickly and purposefully. She walked, bundle and all, over to were the training was going on. Some poor young nobles son was training with a short sword. He wasn't training practically hard, probably due to the fact he was only five years old and the it was a lovely day. There would be fish and insects to catch and trees to climb with the village children. The mans father wanted him out of the way and was going to send him to Zaibach as soon as he was old enough.

She didn't know this (how could she? and what would it mean to her?) all she saw was a young boy being forced into the ways of war too soon. In fact she didn't care ether, it was after all none of her business. She did have an unusual talent for seeing things the way they really where.

Her business was with the man training the "poor" young thing. The man had his shirt off and was admittedly very handsome, he had a olive complexion and hard hands from days of hard work under a hot sun with spoilt bratty kids.

" What do you want ?" His pronunciation aping that of the nobles who he worked and lived among, because he hated the common folk and because he made an effort to pronounce things properly, why shouldn't they?

He was a strong man, when he walked into a room you looked. He had an air of contempt about him, like he knew he was the best. He moved with he grace of a large cat, forged in liquid metal. He had a soundness of mind that was hard to come by. If you wanted a man to do a job you asked Steven.

He was smarter than most, very bookey. Spent most of his time reading and training. He hadn't had such a nice life, all in all, but few have and this story isn't about him. He was happy, in his way. he did mostly what he liked and spent a lot 0of time doing what he loved.

" Don ya reginise me Stevan ?" The women asked, with a wry smile.

" Weel Im tha woman who youse met at tha fair remember me Stevan !"

What woman? He cast his mind back to the last fair, all those months ago. Yes, now he remembered her. She had been one of those wretched painted lady's who hung around waiting for men to pay them for there favours. Usually he wouldn't have dreamed of getting involved, but he had got a little drunk and well things happen. She had been very pretty with all that make-up, so done up. She had been clean. He supposed she must have got pregnant and then the work would have stopped, which explained her porr condition.

"Weel dis wee scrap is yur durter" She said smiling smugly.

"And how,pray tell to you know that"

" I don bu its yours now!" and with that she left. I like to think that she mended her ways and lived a good life after that, but things like that only happen in stories. The poor stay poor. The wretched stay wretched.

Steven was stuck. First there was a mental block, he could not have a daughter, he hated women (unless he was drunk that is). Secondly he couldn't stay here. he picked up the bundle and two things fell out,

It was just a book. He doubted that the women could read, but someone had written "by means of payment" on the reverse of the front cover. He wondered if someone had given her the book as means of payment or if it was meant from her to him. The note wasn't signed. Men like Steven like to have mysteries to keep them occupied on the lonely nights.

The book was quite old, the pages yellowed and torn. He flipped to a page near the front:

And so the Goddess sent forth her helper into the blackness and three nights and three days past and Her helper returned an the Goddess saw that it was not good. Anfang: 12:15.7

on the back page some on had scribbled:

Life moves too slow

That's why we never go

Life moves too fast

That's why we never laugh

Life doesn't move at all

That's why we always stall

Life moves too slow

That's why we have no were to go

Life moves far too fast

That's why we never last

The hand writing was different.

He sniffed, it appeared to be some kind of bible, perhaps of a forgotten religion. He smiled, it would make a good read. Goddess or no Goddess. Anonymous scribblings or no.

He didn't know how much this bundle, girl and all would effect his fragile existence. All he knew was that it was a problem. Not a big one, he could get rid of it easy enough. Not here.

He took his merge belongs out of his room and went to get his horse. After saddling up he kissed the boy in his charge on the head, wished him good luck and road away as fast as he could.

How could he have a girl to look after? He knew Nothing of child care! He would have to learn fast, the bundle stared to cry again. He would head back to his home land and his people and see what he could do.