TRUST

Chapter 1: The Task

I could smell everything.

The sweet inviting smell of bread baking in the stone oven, fine red wine being poured into cups, fresh dew on bright green leaves dripping through the cool earth. My eyes were closed but, I could hear the sound of leaves rustling its whispers. It was telling me to rise and start the world with them. I knew the sun had arrived, I felt it.

I didn't want to rise. I did not want to face Father.

I never wanted to face him; he could make feel as if I achieved nothing, as if I was worthless. I could feel the judgment in his eyes, staring at me, telling me that I was not the son he wished I was. He was not subtle about it either. It was always clear in the tone of his voice, caustic and unsympathetic. Yet he wondered why I rather stayed in my bed.

I turned, pulling the garment over my head and pretended that the morning was still far. Reality disagreed.

The sun infiltrated the gaps between the window frames, the rays illuminated the entire room. The light challenged my mind who lost and grabbed me away from the attempt to dream.Sighing, I sat up quickly, failing to anticipate reality of the body.

Crack!

My back made that sound. A pain I've suffered as long as I could remember. My bones felt like they were rattling like an old woman's. I rubbed my lower back, careful not to upset it even further. It still ached dully as I rose and moved around. I still condemn those trainings!

Training was all I knew for the last twelve years. Never once did I wake up feeling lively. Life had departed from me, as my spirits did four years ago. No child should train in Sparta's military. For many died, many failed and countless were eliminated. Only the best remained. I, was one of them. Alexious.

I walked to the table unwillingly. I thought of what the day had to offer. Yelling, chores, all useless. But as the sun went higher, meetings would come. Those that discussed government matters, or news or celebrations that desperately needed my attendance.

They say freedom was such a sweet thing, that even the slaves dream of it day and night. Little do they know that freedom did not exist. Being a noble was no different, walking at the edge of a command, speaking words that uttered for the needs of those in seek of power, but then when power was in hand still other restrictions materialized. Then, what was freedom? If one could not still be a free man as they liked to be? Freedom did not and will never exist.

And the praises. Oh the praises. I despised praising noble this and that. All useless. All foolish. I leaned on the table, pushing myself from falling onto the ground. My face reflected in the water and innocent question popped into my mind.

How old was I?

It fascinated me sometimes, how labor affected you physically. Training and working had worn my body out. Stretching every muscle, pushing it was far as what was needed. In one way, it strengthened me, but it aged me in the other. I stared at that man in the water, a man who looked far older than he should.

Earnest and old were the first impressions I could judge from my appearance. Old, however wasn't exactly correct, tired was more likely. I looked like a man in the middle of his twenties, gliding dangerously towards his thirties. Soft grey shadows formed beneath my eyes, lack of sleep and lines scratching the corner of my vision, fatigue. I stared for a while, my blue eyes that were deep and eyebrows that framed my eyes magnificently. Yes I was quite the man.

I wasn't shy nor ashamed about it. I had the looks that made women glance twice and made men felt hideous. It was not shameful, it should be celebrated. We were given many at birth, looks were just like a tool that if sharpened correctly, was useful. But I hadn't the time for gawking bystanders or blushing servants. Or women, in general.