A Tale of Time: The Malice of Men

Chapter 7: Duty

Duty is devotion. Duty is demanding.

Duty is unceasing. Duty is common task.

Duty is unwavering. Duty is divine.

Duty will wear us and break us and snap us and tread down on our spine.

Duty. Her life was built around it. It was her soul, her deity and she treated it as such. Everyday, she would rise with the sun and ritualistically ready herself. Her maidservants had to ensure that the water for her bath was piping hot by the time the rooster had finished its morning throes. While the sentries returned from their night shift, she would already being to scour her territories, assessing the needs and wants of her people. She had a small guard of twenty for this, but quality to her prevailed over quantity.

After breakfast, she would spend the remainder of the morning with her noblemen, listening to their reports and answering their requests for grants. She lunched with traders and businessmen, asking them of their plight and state of business , occasionally favouring a particularly promising man.

She listened a lot, being but five and twenty of age. She had a lot to learn. Her evenings she would spend with her teacher and adopted father Master Nicolas. She would learn of politics, histories, peoples, medicine and warfare. Night was for the poor and those of her people who wished to be heard, being unavailable when her ladyship had strolled past their shabby, scanty premises in the morning. She liked it that way. People may lie, but their actions seldom did. When last night's trash lay a strewn across the street, it was a hundred voices singing as one. Her mind always returned to those unfortunate ones who dwelt there. She dined alone when the Gods granted her that comfort. She spent the remainder of the night swimming in a sea of stories and histories before retiring at last.

Such was the life of Armanda Sparrow.

Being of common birth and heiress to a shady, thatched home and eighty gold Navars, she quickly proved she was worth a lot more. While most ladies and children of her age spent their time frolicking about, she chose to help out the old Miller with his wares. Her parents were shocked when she had come home with a reward. They thought she had stolen. Truths began to out quickly after that:' Armanda was here helping him... Armanda was out there doing that... very un-ladylike behaviour.' Her parents decided to put an end to it by a rather noisy conversation. That was the night she ran away. She was seven.

Afraid of what ghosts she would see, she never turned back. Warm heart accompanied by shrewd mind, she quickly rose in status and stature, her career being crowned by the declaration of her ladyship by the King, who was fond of this young girl. She was given all of the Western Isles to govern. That was when she finally had the courage to turn back home, but she was too late: The pox had taken Alakaye Sparrow and his wife. She wept bitterly that day and many thereafter, increasing her effort manifold. " Nobody must suffer this, but I brought this upon myself." She said, and maybe it was true.

All that was three years ago.

Now again, she began with her daily rituals.

Being at the castle of Erastir right now, she had no need of scouring the lands. She strolled anyways, taking in  the people and their wares in the old market. She heard that the place was notoriously famous for its thieves, but at this early hour, there was only peace. Shopkeepers began their daily chores. Gold and enamel dolls and boxes with the queerest of things popping out of them began to out. Fine pottery from the four corners of Ëra (and even the Western Isles) could be found. What really caught her attention were the carpets. In the Western Isles, they were a luxury and a luxury rarely patronized. The best they had were shabby footwarmers with a kaleidoscope of designs. Here though, the cheapest carpets were five inches thick! Her feet would all but disappear in them. It was made from the finest, softest fur that made her feet feel as though they were planted in the sky. What the fur was, apparently, was a trade secret. They contained images of events long ago, a tale of time when men of legendary deed walked the same streets and ruled the same place. She bought a couple of carpets. Even in this time of crisis, the city was thriving. Maybe that was because the King had begun to seize and distribute food for free himself. That was a kind gesture and a noble one, though nobody expected anything less of him. The mobs were quelled for now, their Hunger satisfied, but hunger had a way of announcing its arrival at the worst of times.