Within The Pages

Round 2.1 Unsung Tale Of Zairat

A story written for "Gloves Up| A Multi-Genre Smackdown Contest", Round 2.1 (August 2022). Genre: Historical Fiction (Must include bizarre weather). 

Story Word Count: 1763

"Madam..."

"Not now, Ruth. Let the time come." A determined voice of a female rang out across the desolate land of Zairat. Somewhere in the white outskirts of this once beautiful place now lurked the secret traps of betrayers, camouflaging themselves in the darkness of caverns, which were nothing more than a mere replica of their own darker souls.

"How long, Madam? The Dukes and Duchesses have been acting weird lately. The scent of doubt and whispers of sewing conspiracies are no longer a marvel for the royal walls. " The voice held a smidgen of sadness in it. The lady, Ruth, was donned in a black dress with white trim, a full skirt ironed to perfection, and a silky white half-apron with ruffles.

Madam fell into the alluring trap of boketto. Her thoughts were continuously bouncing between her potential next moves. Eventually, she sighed.

"Let them, Ruth, let them. Zairat isn't ready for this. My people are my pride. And disappointment would be the last thing I'd want from them. Especially when these hands are chained with oaths and promises. " A faint gurgling voice distracted the two ladies. As soon as their eyes fell on the little source, nestled in Madam's chest, their incandescent eyes softened.

A little child was curled up in Madam's chest, blissfully dozing off. So angelic. So beautiful. The fabric of the black cloak shielded the child from the cruelty of his land. Shielding him away for the time being.

The infant shivered in his sleep, stirring. The coldness of Zairat encased him within itself. Making him feel the essence of his motherland. Snowflakes tenderly grazed past his tiny frame, infusing him with the distinct chills of his land, where he'd fight tooth and nail one day.

"The weather seems in a mood today. You should leave, Madam. Baba is getting cold. " Ruth spoke out, exuding love and affection for the pair.

Indeed, the weather was quite bizarre for the day. Zairat, no doubt, was a land of snow. Since their forefathers migrated to Zairat following the power conflict, all they had known was silky white sheets covering the crests and meadows. Among these days, there was hardly a day when the sun might, if at all, greet them for a few minutes.

However, the ambiance that day was altogether different. Shades of dreary gray and dark blue evoked melancholy, both literally and metaphorically. Even the salty ounces of snow seemed to warn the abode of Zairat of impending disaster.

"Walk with me to the Bazaars, Ruth." Madam requested her politely, a serene smile complementing her regal and gracious appearance. The latter trailed behind them, bowing.

***

They walked through throngs of hundreds, if not thousands. For a while, there were no titles and no names. They were just the folks of Zairat. The crowd, which mirrored the might of their homeland.

"They still believe you're in exile, Madam." Ruth said, a forlorn look adorning her face. She watched the woman seated in front of her as she leisurely sipped her tea. Clouds of steam hit her nose, turning it a tomato-red color.

"Ain't I, Ruth?" She smiled at her. The shine of her eyes spoke volumes, rewarding her for her loyalty.

"No, Madam, of course not. They disgust me, Madam. They fell in my eyes nine fortnights ago." Ruth clearly displayed disdain for her countrymen. Her eyes, fuming with rage and dismay.