Lothar, Traetos Province, Southern Avestria

After he had washed the blood from his face, and soaked his clothes in the water to cleanse himself, he stared at his reflection in the limpid water beneath him. He realized how gullible he had been to trust those boys. He should have known that no one was ever going to accept him. A tear dropped from his left chin eye and sent out a small ripple in the calm and pellucid water of the pond, perturbing his reflection. He felt pain, emerging from his chest but it wasn't physical pain but the agony of being treated like nothing. His hands shivered, partly in anger and partly in self-pity.

As the water became steady, it revealed his melancholic face, staring back at him from the water. Why me? He thought, pitying himself for being a pariah. Mythra felt like a boorish brat who was hated by everyone in the village. Tears dropped into the water as Mythra stared at his reflection.

When his anger outgrew his sorrow, he ran away as fast as he could, wiping the tears with the back of his palm. He ran and ran and ran. And then ran some more, until he found himself in the daily market which was set up every other day near the town center. It was possible that all the blood loss had enervated him and now, he was hungry and thirsty.

As Mythra walked over the streets, he could see hawkers and peddlers on both the sides of the path. It was a crowded place in the village. The hawkers sold pottery vessels, ivory articles, and meat. Mythra could hear the derogatory remarks about him, as the people whispered, but he chose to ignore them.

Although he was accustomed to people staring disdainfully at him and slandering him, he was always nettled by this acrimony. When he walked on the streets, people moved away from him as if he was some kind of an untouchable pest. Nobody bothered to see the wound on his forehead and no one tried to help him out of some morality.

By now, the eight Mesha old Mythra was efficiently conversant about being loathed by the people. They cursed him for destroying the sanctity of their village and the kingdom. After walking for long, he stopped by an eatery which was selling grilled Vorys, flavored with his favorite red and green spices. He could see the people, savoring the eatables with pleasure. Mythra could smell the aroma that ran through the surrounding, making his mouth water. He reached for his pocket to see if he had any Nyshka lying around or probably something else that he could barter to have the food.

Having Nyshka lying around in the pockets was an opulent comfort and it was only for the prosperous people of the village. Mythra being an orphan as he was, he had none lying around in his pockets. All that he could find was a piece of wooden junk that looked like a small top and a long string that he used to wind it.

He let out a sigh in exasperation as he quenched his hunger by merely looking at that enticing and aromatic food. He swallowed the saliva accumulated in his mouth as he craved to have those eatables in his belly. Unfortunately, he couldn't afford such a luxury. He was just staring at the people who were relishing those delicacies. Suddenly, the owner of the eatery rushed forward and fulminated at Mythra.

"There is nothing for you here, you stinking brat!" the owner yelled.

"I know... I don't want anything. I was just looking..." replied Mythra in a low voice, being startled by the owner's yelling.

He remembered the last time he had stood at the door of another eatery. The owner of that eatery had promised to give him some food. But for that, Mythra would have to clean the floor of his eatery. He could be easily fooled for being so gullible and naive. After he had cleaned the room for the owner, the owner just banished him from the eatery without giving him any of the promised food. At least this owner wasn't trying to lure him into doing any labors in return for giving him food.

"Don't even stare at my eatables with your shabby self. I don't want any bad luck because of you, Caligor!" shouted the owner in a daunting voice.

Mythra moved back a little, but he wouldn't leave. The owner shoved him away, forcefully. Mythra sprawled backward and the crowd near the eatery began staring at him due to this commotion. He gazed around to see those eyes, fixated on him, filled with bitterness.

"Why do you people treat me like that? I'm...I am not some pest!" he exclaimed. His voice faltered due to anger. He was nettled by this bitterness. He could hear people, muttering about him at the back.

Stop. Staring! He yelled in his thoughts.

"Don't you understand what I just said? Get out of here!" yelled the owner of the eatery, again.

Mythra got his feet under him and levered his way up. He ran away from all those people, who hated his presence. The owner immediately washed his hands for having touched the Caligor, to relieve him of any unjust events.

The afternoon had ended and the day was approaching towards the dusk. However, it was still not dark enough. The aura of Seros turned the sky into a shade of orange and red. The moons Arkā and Prohor also lit the surroundings with their white light while Vaerūn appeared scaly and bluish, as it's partially illuminated gibbous, shone brightly in the heavens. Mythra, annoyed and exasperated, walked towards his home which was near the lake Lush.

He was raised by the Roshai who was a priest in the temple of Seros. The Roshai was known to be high born. Mythra's father had left him in her care after he was born. She lived in a homestead, beside the temple and the infirmary. Being a Roshai, she was venerated by the people of the village.

Because of her lineage, she was highly regarded by the Autarch of the kingdom. It was a general practice for a Roshai to adopt the orphans of the village and be their guardians. Roshai pursued all kinds of work from religious practices to the study of natural sciences like medicine, mathematics, and the study of heavens.

Mythra was strolling his way towards his humble abode when he came across the barracks and the archery range. He was always fascinated by the warriors. Since he was an Auctisila by blood, one of the warrior clans, he aspired to become a great warrior one day. Mythra's daily routine included the same hackneyed activities of getting up at dawn and chanting the prayers to Lord Seros, as taught by Lady Roshai.

After performing his daily rites, Mythra used to explore the woods or travel along the banks of the tributary of river Nelam. Since no one would accept him as a friend, he mostly resorted to spending his time with nature. He made the river as his companion and the birds as his friends. The trees would be his teachers.

He would play with the same broken top every day, alone and isolated. His top was broken by the same boys who had bullied him the other day. One of them had purposely stepped over it to break the toy, to harass Mythra. Sometimes he would go for a swim in the river. Other times he would climb the tall trees of the forests, exploring all kinds of insects and birds that he could find. Most of the time, he used to spend his day getting beaten up by some boys or being loathed by the people. Although it was hurtful, it made him feel noticed and extant. Nature was the only thing that truly accepted him.

But once in a while, his serendipity allowed him to watch the warriors getting trained at the banks of the river Nelam. The novices of the Sanek rank were often trained in impressive battle formations in an open and wide area. Mythra was always exuberant to spectate these training sessions.

He would often observe them from a distance and try to imitate their actions and movements, imagining himself as a warrior. Somehow, the warriors were not scornful towards him as the people of the village were. Even though they wouldn't accept him for being born as a Caligor, they didn't reject him either and Mythra learned to be satisfied with the lukewarm sentiments he received from those men.

He was fascinated by their chief who instructed and trained them. His name was Ramusa Vorcerus. Vorcerus was one of the highly regarded houses which belonged to the class of Kyshatar, the second class in hierarchy after the Roshai. Vorcerus people were known to be genetically tall. Ramusa was the only warrior in the entire kingdom of Lothar who was at the rank of an Ashra Primus. Mythra was fascinated when he looked at this formidable warrior.

His two royal seals --- dictating his superior rank in the forces, emblazoned on his chest armor which was the informal wear of the warriors. His Bladius was always sheathed in his scabbard, hanging low from his belt. He had brown curly hair and black eyes. His pale skin tone made his blackbeard appear more daunting and masculine.

His sinewy and rugged arms were left bare because of his sleeveless armor. His pumped up physique displayed his strength as he struts between the battle lines to train the novices of the Sanek rank. His biceps and forearms were covered in scars, as a mark of the battles that he had fought and survived.

Ramusa often noticed this small adolescent boy beside the river, imitating the warriors. He was well aware of the birth of Mythra during the Grand Obscura and so he never nurtured Mythra's enthusiasm but quite often, he felt curious about Mythra's gusto. He allowed Mythra to spectate the training session from a distance. Somehow a part of this strong-willed warrior felt pity for this child who was detested and disowned by the society.

Today was Mythra's fortunate day as he witnessed the entire training session of the Sanek. He was so engrossed in observing them that he lost the track of time. Seros was already past the horizon, leaving behind a faint glow of dusk in the surroundings. Mythra was struck with the apprehension about the scolding he was going to get from Granny Roshai, for getting home late. Since the Roshai was an old woman, Mythra regarded her as his grandmother. Mythra immediately ran towards his home near the temple.

By the time he was in the vicinity of his homestead, he was already panting. As his home came closer and closer, he could see a figure standing at the door of the house with her hands folded and a narrow penancing stare. Mythra was daunted by her look, the falter in his steps could attest to that. It was granny Roshai who was waiting for him at the doorstep. He knew he was in for a beating and so he lowered his head as he walked closer to her.

What always astonished Mythra was the Roshai's age. She had always been an older woman since his birth. Never had Mythra, seen her hair dark and her skin without wrinkles. It almost felt like she had attained some form of physical immortality in her old age. He always wondered what the Roshai must be looking like when she was a young woman.

She was taller than Mythra and her spine was still erect as a girl in her youth, which was quite admirable for her age. Her white hair was tied in a bow and pulled back to reveal her hairline which was split into two parts because of her braiding habits.

Her turquoise green colored eyes stared down at Mythra. A white-colored robe made of Silsa was draped around her upper and lower torso and extended till her feet, revealing nothing but her toes. The Roshai was a benevolent and affectionate person but she was equally strict in the matters of discipline.

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Footnotes :

• 'Nyshka' was the currency of the Avestriāns. It was made out of either Shoren or Shokal. Shoren Nyshka had higher value as compared to Shokal. Depending on the province, the Nyshka had the emblem of the province engraved on its surface.

• Sanek is the lowest rank in the military which comprises of swordsmen, pikemen and bowmen.

• 'Ashra' was a rank in the military after the Sanek. The rank of Ashra was further split into two categories. An Ashra 'Inferus' had one royal seal on his armour and served as a heavy infantry unit. An Ashra 'Primus' warrior had two royal seals on his armour and served as a light cavalry unit riding on a Shrava

• Shrava is a species of a mammal that is similar to a horse on planet Earth.

• 'Bladius' is a type of sword which was made from Tolvor. It was only awarded to Ashra Primus or higher ranks.

• Silsa is a type of clothing material