Alexandrian Conspiracy

The Proud and the Petty

Ethiopia is a pleasant place. Markus says were going to be here for a while. He says it's important to see it as a home, find comfort in new experiences away from what I've left behind. It's hard to balance the emotions battling inside me. I love more than anything to learn and discover, to meet new people, but there is a comfort in knowing things. Here I know nothing and must learn everything. Markus already speaks Somali; he translates everything for me, and I think it's going to be a long time before I pick it up too. Oftentimes I wonder If Markus wasn't telling me the whole truth before. He must be pretty rich; he's bought his personal study here already and he's gotten quite an appetite after the journey here. He reminds me of my father but happier and much more talkative. Now that I know he can read and write, I've been thinking of sending my father a letter. The thought cheers me up, maybe Alexandria isn't so far away as my heartache makes it seem to be.

"Siena, come into town with me, I'm sure your tired of being in the study all day daydreaming and the sun is still young."

"Relax, I was actually planning to Markus, could you help me find the mail here?"

He looks confused, but when he sees the neatly rolled up piece of paper in my hand it registers to him that I wrote a letter. He groans, and hands me some gold coins. Perhaps he's not as rich as I thought he was after all, being so stingy.

"I don't know where the mail is here, but you'll need these to send it. Consider it payment for your apprenticeship, I have to go now."

He winks and walks away. Clopping his fancy sandals, he's bought here. He may wear the same clothes as everyone here, but there's no denying he definitely looks out of place.

The streets here are strange, sometimes it doesn't feel like there even is any, just land you wander around till you find something.  In my case I found people. Lots of them. Shepherd's with trails of strange creatures, normal people wearing clothes that fully clothed or barely clothed, Merchants with camels of their own adorned with turbans and chests, but my favorite type of people to see were the warriors. The Ethiopian hunters, army, and gladiators. Men wearing muscle with crude armor loosely scattered like paint on a canvas. Some wore helmets, others wore bands. I thought this type of armor impractical so I asked.

"Sir, why is it that that man wears wears a  chest plate and helmet, and your wearings some sort of metallic swimsuit."

"Because, Its not armor, on my limbs it becomes a weapon, and the faster i can move, the faster I can beat my opponents. Let me show you, try and poke me with your spear."

I pull out my spear I got from my father and hold it out, striking down to whack without thinking. Within a blink the man hit it away with his golden wrist, grabbing it with his other hand. He threw it in the air, and jumped, I backed away, falling on my back, looking up to see him snap the spear in half with his golden ankle. His leg outstretched and bare, his loincloth tight.

"HEY, WHY DID YOU BREAK IT."

"Oh, I'm sorry, got carried away there...I'm sure it can be repaired."

If it wasn't as impressive as it was when I watched it I would have (tried) to fight him. But I let it go. Men, and their need to be showoffs I guess. I smirked when I thought of how man like I must seem to others. For I too can get caught up in moments, being reckless as a side effect. Racing Mark the Camel for no reason being an example, copying my father's recipes in his book even though they turned out terrible wrong another. My latest endeavor of trying to mail him finally succeeding...

"How much to send this please, don't care how long!"

"How about you tell me where too first."

"Alexandria Egypt, to the name of Wiles Hughens, master carpenter and metalworker."

"Egypt will be at least 20 gold coins."

Lucky or unlucky for me, that is all I had. I went to grab them but realized I had been pick-pocketed! I looked to my hand and the broken spear it was holding. I had shivers down my spine, someone stole my money. I felt like I knew who it was who stole my money, it had to be that guy just now, nobody else was there, but him. But he was in front of me the whole time, I could have felt it. He's something more than a warrior to do this, my strength may not be the strongest, but my senses are keen. There's no logical way he could have stolen from me. I will get my money back; I'm not letting this conniving man get away with it. Letting him do this takes an absent mind, insulting my intelligence, and messing with reality, he brought me and my father together in an unexpected way, hurting our pride. Making my mind race I slowly let myself become obsessed with trying to figure out what he did. But if being proud is my father's biggest fault, being curious must be mine, and I'm going to prove it.

"Markus, I'm going to need your help."