Child of War (Tales of Autcrem)

Chapter thirteen, Bitter Sweet

Hensei made his way into the inner yard. The sun was slowly climbing into the sky, and the birds were full of energy. He didn't mind the noise; it kept the silence away. He walked by their vegetable garden and the flower garden. He liked the flower one a lot. Lots of colors and strange flowers he had never seen before. One had petals that were thin triangles. Another looked like the head of a lion with a fiery main. It was a pretty sight.

"You like the flower garden?" Dess said, walking out of the monastery with gardening gloves on.

"It's very colorful and alive, like a little jungle of color."

"Ha." Dess laughed, coming up to it. "I've thought the same thing." He bent down and began weeding.

"You have extra gloves?" Hensei said, wanting to help.

"In the shed, you sure you want to help with your injuries?" He nodded over his shoulder.

"I'm feeling a bit better. My leg is probably the worst hurt one, and it's not to bad."

"Alright."

Hensei went over and opened the door. It was pretty clean for a shed. Filled with all kinds of tools and gear. Traveling bags and sleeping bags. He found some gloves in a cupboard and took them. He made his way back outside as he put them on. Moss came out from some shady spot and waltzed over to Dess. Dess eyed him as if he was some suspicious villain.

"I know what you are." He said, and Moss only barked, a lazy one at that. "A lazy mutt, that's what." He said, shaking his head.

Hensei knelt with a little effort down at another part of the garden and began weeding. He used to do it with his mother and his sisters. It was a lot of fun. He always told wild stories of the petal knights as they protected the Flower jungle. They were happy memories. He pushed them away from his thoughts because happy memories always lead to sadder ones.

"Can I ask you a question, Dess?"

"Sure."

"I don't know if this is offensive, but what does Pok mean?"

"What?" Dess said, shooting his head up from the weeds.

"Sorry." Hensei cringed. He knew he shouldn't have said it.

"Where'd you hear it?"

"A dwarf who I killed was calling everyone a useless pok," Hensei said, pulling a weed.

"That would make sense," Dess said, going back to the weeds. "It's a word I had grown long accustom to but haven't heard it in many years now. That's why I was so surprised."

"It's not a good word, is it."

"Not if you're a Gnome. It's what the Dwarves call us normally. Poks. It's a word that was used as an insult to anyone. Its meaning, as they defined it, means creature lesser the dirt. They have called us the poks of their society for a long time now."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to insult you," Hensei said, feeling bad.

"It's all right," Dess said, rolling his shoulders, "You meant nothing by it. It lets you learn a little bit about our culture."

"I thought Gnomes were cousins to the dwarves, why are you so hated?"

"Because we're different," Dess said with sad eyes. "Because we're lesser than them, or so they say. Because they created us or so the stories say. That's why I have always envied the humans."

"What? Why?" Hensei said, frowning.

"The dwarves hold huge hatred for Gnomes, the high and dark elves enslave the wood elves, the northern and southern orc factions are always fighting. Yet the humans, even though you have hate for the other races, you as a people, stand together."