Revolutions

30 - Legido

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There's another world out there, past the horizon, far beyond what the eye can see. When you gaze down the river, toward the sea to which it lazily flows, you can feel it in your bones, the sensation of another land, other peoples. What does this new world look like? Do they have dense forests, with a never-ending span of trees? Are they a different shade of green compared to that which grows here? What about the flowers? How many new and vibrant colors do they bloom? Hopefully they have much richer plant life than what you have here.

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Are the mountains as tall and jagged, as steep as the ones in your land? Are their peaks perpetually coated in white, too? Do they have vast deserts that take up much of their lands, like here? Can they farm and grow their own food, without fearing the seasonal drought?

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What are the people like? Are they like yours? Are they friendly? You hope they're friendly. What do their houses look like? What do they eat? What clothing do they wear? What are their beliefs? What are their customs, their traditions?

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The magpies and pochards flutter about the riverbank, away from where you're tossing stones off the water's surface. As your mind snaps back into focus, the birds take flight, gracefully gliding westward towards the endless expanse of the sea. You sigh, wishing you could join them in flight, and pick yourself up off the rocky shore, dusting off your pants as you stand.

Faint hollering barely reaches your ears, and you turn your attention toward the docks a ways away. The cool, gentle breeze that sweeps down from the rigid mountains in the backdrop brushes your cheeks, a relief in this midday sun, and caresses the red-and-blue flags, causing them to sway gracefully. Even from here, you can see the commotion, all the movement, from dockworkers and sailors. A hive of bustling workers and merchants in a flurry of activity, more so than typical this time of day.

There's a scuffling of footsteps which grows more and more louder, crunching in the pebbles and dirt on the way over to you. The approaching young man has a round and expressive face, with prominent, soulful eyes exuding his youthful energy. He has a button nose and dark brown, tousled medium-length hair peaking beneath his tan wool cap as though what he's about to say to you is too important to put himself together, his ill-fitting shirt flapping as he jogs. He's out of breath, but manages to fight through the exhaustion with a bright, warm smile.

"Barges are... coming in!" he pants, hunched over with his hands on his thighs, barely covered by his dark brown, knee-length trousers, as he blurts the news. "Large gathering... Lots of soldiers and sailors... something huge is planned!"

"Why have all the men gathered?" you ask, confused. "There's a lot of activity. What's going on, Iker?"

"Atelmaro," he says, now catching his breath. "He's making a big announcement in the town square at sunset."

"What's the announcement?"

"Not sure," he says. "But they're gathering a lot of supplies at the dock's storehouses. Must be preparing something big."

"If the second-in-command to Vitor Criato is going to speak, it's definitely something big," you posit. "We should hear what he has to say."

"I wonder if it'll be another excursion to the south," Iker says as you both begin your walk back to the village along the rocky shores, traversing the rugged terrain and occasionally hopping from one large stone to another. The tiny sand crabs scurry out of the way of our feet, taking shelter beneath the rocks, and minnows swim about the small tidal pools. "Maybe capturing more wild horses to work the plows."