The Winds of Tepr

Chapter 30

In the shadow of Bo'anen's gleaming spires, the outskirts of the capital of Seop unfold into a tapestry of stark contrasts. Here, in a poor district that feels worlds apart from the city's opulent heart, the narrow, winding streets are lined with humble dwellings made of bamboo and clay. These homes, patched together with whatever materials their inhabitants could scrounge, cluster tightly, as if seeking comfort in their shared struggle against the encroaching city. The air carries the scent of salt from the nearby sea, mingling with the earthy aroma of rain on dry soil—a rare respite from the usual dust.

Children, their clothes a patchwork of mended tears and faded colors, play in a clearing amidst the cramped houses. They have transformed the dirt into their battlefield, with crafted wooden toys serving as their warriors and steeds. Their laughter and shouts fill the air, a vibrant testament to the resilience of youth amid hardship.

A boy, his hair tousled and eyes alight with the fire of imagination, holds a stick carved to resemble a sword. He directs his wooden soldiers with grand gestures, proclaiming, "The villainous barbarians from the north approach! Form ranks, brave warriors of Seop!"

Another child, a girl with nimble fingers, maneuvers a toy horse through the dirt, weaving between the scattered figures. "Not if the legendary heroes of Mokop have anything to say about it!" she retorts, her voice tinged with the thrill of the game.

Nearby, a younger boy, clutching a crudely shaped wooden dragon, pipes up, "And I'll call upon the dragon of the East Sea to scorch our enemies!".

As the shadows lengthen, merging into the early hues of evening, the children's game grows more fervent, their shouts and laughter a beacon of mirth in the somber outskirts. Their world of make-believe is so absorbing that they barely notice the approach of Saya, their older sister, until she stands over them, a silhouette framed by the fading light.

Saya, barely into her teenage years, carries the weight of adulthood on her slender shoulders. Her long hair, pulled back into a practical braid, sways with the briskness of her movements. The lines of her simple, worn clothing speak of frequent mending, a testament to her role as the makeshift guardian of her siblings. Her face, usually gentle, now carries a stern expression as she sets down a basket heavy with fish, the result of her day's labor in the bustling markets of Bo'anen.

"Enough of this," Saya chides, her voice laced with weariness and concern. "You're playing at stupid games you don't understand. War isn't a game; it isn't fun. People suffer, people like us."

The children, momentarily chastened, quickly return to their laughter and play, the gravity of Saya's words lost in the joy of their imaginations. They weave around her, caught up in their own world, where the harsh realities she speaks of cannot touch them.

Saya watches them, a soft smile playing on her lips, despite her earlier admonishment. She understands the need for escape, the desire to find beauty and heroism in a world that often showed little of either. But as her gaze falls on the toys with which they play, her expression shifts from bemusement to alarm.

"Is that—?" she starts, her voice rising in panic as she dashes forward, scattering the children with her sudden movement. In their hands are not just wooden swords and toy horses but replicas of fire weapons, crudely fashioned yet unmistakably dangerous in their implication.

"These are not toys!" Saya exclaims, her earlier patience giving way to outright fear. "Playing with things like this... it's not just dangerous, it's disrespectful to those who've suffered because of them. War isn't a game. These," she gestures to the makeshift fire weapons, "bring only pain and destruction."

The children's defiance surfaces with the mention of their oldest sister, Sen, their eyes glistening with the onset of tears. "But Sister Sen made them for us!" they protest, their voices a chorus of confusion and hurt. "She said they were special. Why can't we play with them?"