Wisteria

Principium

If Naib Subedar could be profiled with one word, it would have been persistent. He was the type of person who would never back down from anything, always pushing through,  even when all seems to be lost. In his eyes,  there is nothing more cowardly than running away and giving up.

"Never lose hope and never leave anyone behind Naib. We are put in this world to help each other." That was one of the last things his father had said before he disappeared, perhaps that is why he clung to it desperately, living the words in his own way.

He would always go out of his way to distract the enemies hoping to give his comrades an edge in the battle, darting between them, too quick to catch. He would always be the last one to leave the fields, dodging blades and seeking cover from the rain of bullets as he tried to carry his wounded brothers back to safety.

"You know they will return to battle after being saved, don't you?" One of his brother in arms told him one time. "You should stop putting your life at risk all the time Naib."

"Companions are very important Kiero. Never forget that no matter what." He replied.

He gave him a sad smile. "I wish I was brave as you."

The compliment rang empty in his ears, he didn't feel brave at the moment. He felt terrified. Every single minute he spent here,  felt like the last. Nightmares plague him most of the time, and he would wake screaming and sweating as images of blood and tears flashed in his mind. Sometimes he would dream of his first kill, or the time his partner died, shielding him from a knife to the heart. Those were always the worst, and he liked to cope by sticking his hand in some sand and pretend he was baking bread with his mother at home.

The years he spent working for the East India company were the most taxing moments of his life, and as a retired mercenary, his life was built on risks.

Perhaps that is why he struggle so much to adapt to his new life.

It had been a year before he finally decided to turn his back on being a mercenary, his hate of war reaching a peak and his beliefs of equality shining amongst the smoke and gunshots like a beacon. He believed that he could do better, so he turned and left, starting anew as a baker in the Campbell family's shop.

The pay was alright, but it was nothing compared to what he earned back then. But the worst thing was the utter quiet and boredom of everything. He would be left alone in the scorching kitchen, accompanied by nothing but the soft hums of the oven or the occassional squeking of hungry mice who he would then have to chase out.

He usually spent his time in the quiet dwelling on his choices, debating whether all the twists and turns he made in his life were correct. He frowned as he sprinkled flour on the marble counter, unwanted thoughts rising on the surface of his mind.

You couldn't save them.

You shouldn't be here.  You should've died with them.

All you ever gave your mother was grief.

His hand gripped the counter's edge. He hated it. He hated how they are right, hated that he is here right now, forcing himself to make sour dough just to earn enough to fill their bellies.

He pounded the dough violently. Despite his better judgement, he found himself missing the action of the battlefield, the adrenaline it would give him.  But most of all,  he missed the gold. What he is earning here in a month, he could easily make in a day. Wiping the sweat beading on his brow, he shook his head angrily. He vowed never to go back to that life, else it would ruin him.

That night as he laid in bed, he wished that everything would be different once he opened his eyes. He wished that his father was still here to take care of his mother and him. He amused himself by dreaming of winning the lottery, where they would have enough money to make sure that his mother would live a good life.

'I would buy a mansion by the sea. ' He thought.  'I'll get a dozen dogs and a sailboat to fish. '

But he knew it wouldn't happen, so he closed his eyes and forced himself to sleep. The warm evening breeze wafted in his small bedroom window,  and he wished that he would be anywhere but here.

Dawn broke the next morning, and golden beams of sunlight illuminated the specks of dust floating around. Naib woke up out of breath, he had a bad dream. Of what, he could not remember but whatever it was, it was enough to send a sliver of fear down his spine.

Detangling himself from his blanket, he immediately felt something was amiss. Everything looked the same, tidy as always,  but now something was there that wasn't the night before. On his nightstand was an envelope stamped with a bright red wax seal.

Naib inspected it with calloused fingers, finding no address or recipient, just three words written in loopy, cursive writing.

"To Naib Subedar"

He opened the letter and scanned its contents.

His mind raced,  'Promises of riches you could only imagine, and your one true wish.' He put the letter back on the nightstand. 'What would be my wish?' he thought.

His answer seems a bit childish for him,  but he would give anything just to have his father back.

'A game, that was what it all said. All I have to do is win this game and then I can have my heart's desire.' he thought.

And so after what seems like an hour debating with himself, he packed his bag and headed out into the sun, in search for Oletus Manor.