Shaking the dust off my hat, I stepped into Oddisya's bakery. The aroma of each of her specially homemade pastries filled me with a sense of warmth. Not the kind that relentless beat down on Gyranians from sunup to sundown, but the kind that made me feel secure and happy to sit on a stool by the counter and watch Oddisya work. As I settled into the spot I'd claimed my own and returned to two to four times a week, she saw me look at her and replied with a sly grin. She grabbed a small shot glass and made her way over.
Her golden eyes looked me up and down before she swayed to her side and asked, "What'll it be?" The accented drawl in her voice was a family heirloom, something the Zechs were lucky to have. Jayaprash Zech was a hardworking man, one who I tended to run into every now and again at the blacksmith's. Mr. Jay, as he was commonly known around town, was a stubborn crimson haired man whose many dreams far outlived what he had left to expect. So of course, Oddisya adopted the trait to not only make him proud, but to please herself as well.
Nineteen years ago, back when my father's rule was coming to a close with his health, Mr. Jay had come to my father with desperate pleas. In his arms, he cradled a five-year-old girl with burn marks all over her. He admitted to have been living in an illegal commune with his wife until it was attacked by Two. This led to the loss of his wife while he and Oddisya barely escaped. My parents and the other Lenties had welcomed the two into Gyran with open arms, even allowing her sleep in my room when her father was off in District Two serving his time for their involvement in the commune.
But alas, when I had the golden opportunity to woo her, I was just taming my first horse. Yes, I was a bit of a late bloomer just accomplishing this at seven, but any relation with any girl but my older sister, Earnest, was the last thing I wanted. And sometimes, I was unsure of my sister as well. It wasn't until a year before I graduated grade school when those thoughts arose, and well into secondary when Oddisya, who was two grades below, became the center of them.
And by the time it happened, I found myself unable to speak of them. Every time I opened my mouth, an underlying fear in the deepest parts of me awoke for just a moment to shut me up as soon as possible. So, I let our friendship sit and bloom as it was, nothing changed except for the consistent evolving it did to keep up with our maturing lives. Throughout the years, the gestures, mannerisms, and little habits tweaked themselves a little everyday to match up. From a frustrated and curious pair of fresh teenagers, to ambitious and petrified rising adults. To the confused and wary young man and woman we were now.
We'd developed current habits to fit now, such as my almost daily dose of raspberry puff. "Just the usual, Oddie," I said dazedly, glancing over at my usual order. It sat in the display case, drawing in anyone with a quality taste in dessert. Watching my eyes, Oddie scoffed before diving into the kitchen hidden from the rest of the bakery.
A few minutes later, a small, lanky young boy took a seat just one over from me. Takoda, he began secondary last autumn fall and constantly came to Oddie for help. Back when she was in school, he was her favorite child to watch over for a quick dollar. I always thought he had taken a strange liking to her, but she didn't mind as it must've been what made him so easy.
Now recently having celebrated fifteen years of age, the poor kid worried of everything. He couldn't decide on what career path he wanted before secondary, only that he didn't want anything to do with horses in an equestrian-heavy town. His parents and other adults have had several fits about him not bothering to try to learn how to even properly ride a horse since he was maybe ten. So, to prove to them he didn't need horses to survive, he decided to take the basics in everything until he knew. Poor choice.
Takoda now constantly asked anyone for help until he's dried out how much assistance they can give, then moves onto the next person. Like a routine almost. And he usually gives you maybe three to five days to rest and recharge before he comes back to ask questions about subjects you never bothered with because since the age of thirteen you knew you'd never use it.
The kid looked at me, begging me to have pity on his poor soul. When he noticed my eyes adverting him, he dramatically cried out, "Oh, if only someone skilled in today's politics could assist me in understanding for my huge test tomorrow!" And as my luck would have it, Oddie walked out of the kitchen with my tray of raspberry puffs right at that moment.
Setting my food down before me, she said, "Well, Takoda, I'm sure Arliss knows his stuff. Why don't you ask him?"
"Sir Gyran," he started, fighting a sly smile, "how come we have thirty one districts, but there's no District Seven or Ten?" For a moment, I thought, wondering how to put it in simple terms. I put a raspberry puff in my mouth and looked down at Takoda's workbook to see a map of the world.
"Of the fifty original free willed humans left," I explained. "Toseure divided the world into equal parts for each to rule with totalitarian power. With tripled lifetimes, they all had a long time to sit on their thrones and ponder. And over time, each ruler became stingy with one another. They started sending armies after one another and marrying their children. Thus combining districts to the current twenty-nine we have today." Realization spread across Takoda's face and he wrote down a few notes.
Barely looking up from his book, he confirmed, "And if Raegen Hoss marries Rosetta Tala over Bailey Woodwick, then Districts Two and Three will combine, right? Will that make us Two or Three then?"
"Well," staring my second puff, I answered, "technically, Gyran is neither. Lent towns' populations don't count in the census--we have our own--so we're supposedly just on the shores. But I believe Hoss would have to give up his home with the choice, so probably Three."
For a second, Takoda paused, taking in the fact that District Two may no longer exist. "Sir, is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
"Depends," I held my breath. "Gyran is the only Lent town that isn't hidden from District Two's radar."
"There's bound to be more, right?"
I shrugged and shook my head, "Dunno. If they exist, then its not public knowledge." I gave Oddie a look, signaling her to fetch me a second batch of puffs and pushed the remaining over to Takoda.
"Oh." He took one and cautiously took a small bite out of it. "Why?"
"Lent towns are technically illegal," I said. A good portion of all my worries were bound to spill out to this young secondary schooler and I knew it. I took a deep breath and ventured on, "Well, wandering and/or living outside of a district is illegal. But if we interact with a district and establish a strong trading and economic system with them, then we've found the loophole. District Two has a really high status quo already and its difficult to introduce a new and useful industry to them. That's why we chose to be equestrians of all things. And if Tala keeps up the no funny business policy and merges with Three, a currently poorer district, all of Three's Lent towns will go bankrupt as the basic things they have to offer will be supplied to Three by Two. Lent towns declared bankrupt are no longer accounted for. Then the former residents will have one option to avoid jail time: find a new town. So that'll mean a sudden influx of unskilled Lents and Lenties traveling to District Four's fifteen Lent towns and Two's only one, Gyran. Which, when your main source of income relies on master horse riders and trainers, can be defective." When I mentioning how important equestrians were to Gyran, in the corner of my eye I saw Takoda's split second look of guilt.
"Well," Takoda challenged, "what if Tala doesn't enforce the current standards? What if she passes Hoss'?" Right then, Oddisya walked up to us with a second plate of raspberry puffs and a tall glass of rose.
"First off, highly unlikely," she spoke up in her drawling accented voice. "Two's laws are based on the districts stance in wealth and power."
"Then just for a little while," Takoda persisted, "just so that Three can catch up."
Oddie's long, lean fingers picked up the glass she'd set before me and took a sip. "That'd be even worse," she refuted, shaking her head. "The new district would be met by dozens attempting to establish new towns based on the unusually lenient guidelines. And if Three is boosted on top of them, reverting back would only mean the District's new legs would be knocked off and it could end up even worse than it is now." While watching Oddie drink it, the rose had somehow become even more enticing. I placed my hand ontop of hers and pulled the glass towards myself.
Takoda, however, was still searching for a way for Hoss and Tala's wedding to be beneficial. "Then my original scenario. If Three's laws are passed indefinitely?"
Oddie shrugged as I struggled to drink but a few drops. "Again, a bunch of new towns built on industries too basic for Two and half of the new district would suffer while one thrived until they hit this uneasy median. As a result, Three's Lent towns would benefit but Gyran would suffer."
"Sir, it seems like we lose wither way," Takoda defeatedly pointed out.
"The Lent town life, Takoda." In the midst of me fighting to drink Oddie's rose, she abruptly let go a decent bit spilled over my shirt. She put her hand over her mouth and reached down for a few napkins. "Woodwick was a perfectly fine Lentie from Nerris and marrying her would save us all so much trouble."
He nodded, understanding the idea behind Hoss simply marrying Woodwick, but still, Takoda turned to me and asked, "But isn't marriage about love?"
For a moment, I went silent and looked at Oddisya. My mind wandered off, imagining if I was in Hoss' situation. The alternate reality where I was a Prime Ruler rather than a Lent Ruler and my service actually mattered. Where Oddisya wasn't an illegal refugee and instead another Prime Ruler. Meaning that our courtship could result in the economic destruction of one of our beloved Districts as we attempted the messy job of merging them.
In that reality, our marriage would be postponed for as long as possible as cities and Lent Towns offered up other possible brides to avoid the whole ordeal. My need to put a face on at least one of the damsels led me to think back on a girl I'd dated in secondary school. Similar to Hoss, it was to distract myself from Oddie and she only liked me for my future title as my now late father had just passed on. Quintessa Quiturah, a black haired girl with vitiligo and a white steak from her widow's peak to her waist. Interesting, but that's all she had. Quintessa was a wonderful woman, just not for me.
Stuck in my thoughts, I found myself thinking about what I'd do if that was my reality. If marrying Oddisya meant the economic end for my people, family, and all loved ones--including her too--and I could solve a national problem just by putting a jeweled ring on Quintessa's finger, then with a heavy heart, I'd follow through with the ladder. And so should Hoss.
My fingers roped around the glass cup as I concluded that my position was probably the reason why my relationship with Oddie was as messy as it was. It wasn't my fault that we were struggling, but my great great great great grandfather's. "Love isn't dragging down the only persistent, struggling Lent town left in District Two." I took the rose and chugged the rest down.
Wiping down the counter and handing me a few napkins, Oddie added, "You know how the Rulers really couldn't care less about Lents. And they're even more disgusted with Lenties. Even if Woodwick is a massively successful, renowned, respectable lady." She took my empty glass and made a face, "'Those mental monsters actually procreated? And enough to create pitiful towns in their names.' I don't think they realize, but I'm genuinely proud to be running Gyran's second best groomer and a town favorite baker." With that, Oddie swiftly disappeared into the kitchen, leaving me alone with Takoda.
I sighed, "Though it's had its ups and downs, Gyran has never filed for bankruptcy once in the two hundred ninety-nine years its been open. By the first of spring, we'll be celebrating the big three hundred."
Takoda scoffed, "Three hundred years of horses." He piled his new notes on top of his workbook and hopped off his stool. "It's hard to sleep at night sometimes when I think about how our entire livelihood is built on horses." I looked at him, debating whether to encourage him to take the huge risk of moving--which he'd undoubted try anyway--or try to sway him to force some kind of love for horses. Either way I was leaning on, in the end, I said nothing and watched the troubled teen drag his feet to the entrance.
As he reached to open it, two hasty figures rushed past him and came up to me jumping up and down. One was a flushed woman with flowing caramel hair half tied up; Radhika Rendis. Behind her was her cousin, a friend of mine, usually bouncy and energetic, drained of color and had his own rich brown hair lazily tied back; Rahm Randis.
Comments (0)
See all