Revolutions

42 - Legido

Your thoughts travel to the fireplace in your home. The wood pops and crackles, and the furniture and belongings within the single room are cast in a warm orange glow. You think this memory may have been the last time you remember a fire made inside your house, or a time close to it. You are, what, eight, nine, ten years old? Who can remember. Despite the heat of the nearby fire, a draft sweeps through the room, prompting everyone to bundle beneath layers of blankets atop their bedrolls.

"Tell me about our people, aita," you request of your father. You've heard the tale a hundred thousand million times, but you still find each retelling as gripping as the last. Afonzo groans loudly and plops his head on his pillow, but you ignore his complaining, focusing attentively on your father.

"Where do I even start?" he asks rhetorically, but you know where the tale will begin, as it always does.

"In the time before time, The Creator gazed upon the vast expanse of the plains and steppes, a canvas of endless possibility. With gentle hands, The Creator dug His hands into the rich soil and shaped it into the form of a human, a resilient and nomadic being. He gave them legs as sturdy as the ancient trees, for they would walk great distances. He granted them eyes as keen as the soaring eagle, for they would traverse the expansive plains. He adorned them with tawny skin to blend with the golden grasslands, and hair as dark as a moonless night. He breathed life into these beings, and they became the Legido people.

"As they opened their eyes for the first time, they saw the unending horizons before them, and The Creator gifted the them with a love for the open grasslands. They would follow the herds, build their homes of felt and hide, and live off the land. They roamed The Great Fàsach for many generations, before your grandfather's grandfather, and much further before that.

"For centuries, they would ride on horseback through rolling grasslands that stretched as far as the eye could see. Each day, they moved with the rhythms of the seasons, following the cycles of the grasses and the roaming herds. They learned to read the signs in the sky, to anticipate the shifting winds and the call of migrating birds. They lived in harmony with nature, knowing that their existence was intertwined with the land and its creatures."

Your father pauses for a brief moment and takes a deep breath in, holding it for a moment as if he's savoring the air in his lungs. He exhales through his nose and closes his eyes, slowly reopening them before he says, "Our people are resilient and adaptable, and our strength and perseverance is as boundless as the expanse of the steppes," he says. You notice that, unlike times before, your father stares long into the fire as though he's been transported to another time.

"Why do our people not live that way anymore?" you wonder aloud. You've always wondered what changed, what happened that caused the Legido to abandon their nomadic way of life for the one you now inhabit, but you've only thought to ask this now.

"We were shown a new path," he says simply, and nothing more. You can't tell how he feels about this, if he even believes his own answer. There's a longing, melancholic tone to his response, his words tinged with a bittersweet sentiment.

As your mind returns to the present, the world cloaks itself in darkness, the sky stretches out above in an inky blue. Lanterns of the expedition dance like twinkling stars, their light mingling with the constellations above, as if the heavens conspire to guide you on this path. The city's familiar sounds have faded, replaced by the crickets serenading you in the night as Rexurdir whispers its farewells in the soft sighs of the breeze. It's only now that you realize, each step you take is closer to both fulfilling your destiny and betraying your family.

You march with the group of explorers to Auruma Xosta, the port city that is the final stop before the expedition travels to the unknown. Everyone is expected to begin loading the ships with supplies as soon as you arrive, and it's because of this that the progress made toward your destination has been excruciatingly slow.