World of Demi-Humans: Freshmen Orientation(w/audiobook)

Class 09J08 - Ishtar, Harrick [A Duel Between]

"In the Name of Allah, the Compassionating, the Compassionate! Praise be to Allah. The Beneficent King, The Creator of the Universe, Lord of the Three Worlds. Who set up the firmament without pillars in its stead, and who stretched out the earth even as a bed, and grace, and prayer-blessing be upon our Lord Mohammad. Lord of Apostolic Men, and upon his family and companion train. Prayer and blessings enduring and grace which unto the day of doom shall remain. Amen, O thou of The Three Worlds sovereign!"

-A Thousand and One Nights

A Duel Between

I laid the final wrap of my turban and tucked the cloth in. Bowing to the floor I muttered my prayers to myself. I stood and took a moment to look at my reflection. I thought I looked strange, but it was fine. Today was special. I checked my chin. I still hadn't grown a beard yet, but I had managed to grow a fine mustache. A charming and distinguished pair of black points that marked me as an equally charming and distinguished man. Even if only my aunts thought so. I smiled to myself and then to the newspaper in front of me. The headline: Arabic Rebels Claim Victory Over Entrenched Warlord. The picture showing many faces I knew, all armed men cheering. All except one in the very middle. A woman with a ball of fire in her hand and an arm around a man who kissed her. An infinite amount of joy and relief flooded through me. I could only hope and pray that this good fortune last, and take comfort that I would not need to pray hard for the warriors in the photo. "Alhamdulillah."

I headed out to where my aunts were working the laundry. They smiled when they saw me and cooed at me, "Oh Harrick, what has you dressed so?"

I showed them the newspaper with its headline. They took it and their smiles grew wider. "Oh sister, look at our brother! How noble!"

As they read over the article my cousin Isabella came out. She was dressed in a casual attire with blue denim pants and a simple shirt with the symbol of a band she listened to. My aunts showed her the newspaper, "Isabella, look! Your uncles are winning our home back, Alhamdulillah"

Isabella pushed the article aside and tsked, "Your home you mean. I don't remember that place."

"Isabella!" They were taken aback by their niece's comment, "Your father gave his life in hope that you would know the land of your people."

"My people?" Isabella laughed, "My people are you two and Harrick. Those people are just names waiting to be forgotten on a tombstone."

Our aunts gasped as Isabella strolled past them and out of the small yard. I sighed and turned to them. "Do not worry. I shall speak to her."

I followed her out into the cross patch of narrow pathways that outlined the house that we lived in. It was a large dwelling built for multiple families, and my extended family took it all up. We were refugees from the wars that were tearing our land apart. A civil war that had cycled through escalations of violence ever since The Arabic Union fell in The Horde Invasion. Now the land was divided by hundreds of warlords who held their power through both brute and legal force.

I caught up to my cousin, "You should not be so rude to our aunts, and you should not speak so callously of our brave warriors in the homeland!"

"Sweet Mercy Harrick," Isabella laughed at me, "You shouldn't be so damn stuffy. And since when do you wear a turban?"

"Since our people won a great victory in the name of Allah, glory be to him." I gave a quick prayer, "In fact, you should dawn your hijab in thanks of this great victory."

"Great victory for what?" Isabella said with a scoff, "My dad is dead and I have no idea where my mother is. And for what, so I can one day go to a land I don't remember and do even more dumb rituals?"