The Calm Breaks

The few hours the conversation lasted were joyful, as I remembered a bit of the naiveté of the people of this world and with it the reminder of why I had to go to the cursed kingdom; it was the closest thing I had to the social structure of my other life.

Sleep, somewhat calm under the shelter of the tree, noticing the sound of the rain in the distance disappear and sleep also won me, only to notice the brightness of the morning claim me from the shelter of the skins and fabrics that looked after me and I went to see the place where the small bonfire was and as only wet ashes remained, I decided to hurry, the piece of bamboo filled with water emptied instantly, on my throat and back face, to wake me up properly and with that I left to the things around, the little firewood and the improvised traps.

“Miss Layla, you must wake up, it’s time for us to go.” I got things ready, while I carried the heaviest-looking items.

“Just a little longer.” She curled up, hoping not to be disturbed any further.

“The supplies should last us until we reach the Sunken tribe.”

“Right.” He stretched a little before starting to work the joints.

She woke up more discouraged than I imagined, as she calmly got ready and grabbed her share of things, before we continued on our way.

It didn't take us much longer to spot the tribe and my surprise was even greater when I saw how everyone seemed ready to leave and after that, I noticed more clearly the dismantling of the houses and other problems.

“Young man, where were you?”

“My work is done and we are ready to go. That’s all I can explain without going into details, which would require a deeper understanding from you and my family.”

“I guess the girl is?”

“The daughter of the Arbos family, the war pact I mentioned to you, Chief of the tribe.” I stated things calmly, as I noticed the white guard arriving. “Do you require anything else before we leave?”

“Nothing in particular, I wish you a safe journey, young man.”

“Likewise.” We rejoined the carriage, only to notice how discreet our retreat was. There were few people seeing us off, and the three warriors in white frequently kept an eye on the surroundings as we continued on our way.

“It was true the tribe was leaving.” He glanced briefly at the warriors’ weapons, wondering how much money he had to have metal weapons. “I’m surprised they decided to leave.”

"In business, the truth is the best I can offer, no matter who I'm dealing with," I explained, noticing his confusion and slight nervousness as he kept slipping out of his notebook.

“I see it now.” Continue reading.

Abaddon continued to order his writings with numbers that no one but him could interpret, and with the end of the book, the certainty that nothing there would be of any use, even so, I keep it, as a reminder of his lack of humility, although somewhat happier of a powerful ally in the near future and a tragedy a little more distant as well.

“What do you write?” I ask as casually as possible.

“Numbers.” He recalled a couple of adjustments he kept correcting.

“Why?” the words came out without his consent.

“What thing?” I asked, somewhat confused, not having an answer to give right away.

"Why are you writing numbers?" He watched the book close and hoped it hadn't bothered the boy in front of him. "Is it useful for anything? Or why would you write?" He looked to the side as he closed his own book.

"These are calculations to determine what I should keep and what I should leave aside, so we can carry out the deal with your tribe in the best possible way, including delivery days and times, as well as any potential difficulties that will be anticipated in delivering the supplies."

The pothole that shook the carriage was enough of a sign for everyone, and the quick expanse of land only served to show the rest that they had gotten out of a lot of trouble.

“Incredible.” I gaze at the landscape that was beginning to dominate the surroundings.

“What thing?” I asked, somewhat eager to chat.

“Hmm.” I looked at Abaddon, somewhat surprised, but he responded almost as quickly. “Well, the landscape. I’ve never seen a place with so few trees, and the colors are incredible.” I pointed to the clusters of colorful flowers that contrasted with the green of the meadow.

“They are called flowers,” I clarified, as I wrote the numbers again.

"I know what they are!" she exclaimed with measured fury, as she sat back down. "We have those in the forest too." She picked up her book and began to read, angrily at being underestimated.

“I don’t doubt it.” I said, half-mocking, while holding back my laughter.

“That's true, we have the red ones, and then there are the other ones, like those blue ones, and then the green ones, and…” He paused, not knowing many other colors, while the ones he didn't know seemed more interesting to him, to the point of trying to stop and collect some. “You're not from the forest, I don't expect you to understand.”

“Roses, poppies, they're the red ones. Surely they only had roses in the forest.” I pointed out, pulling out the dried ones from the book. “Hydrangeas, orchids, they're the blue ones.” I noticed her leaning closer with curiosity, and I brought up a topic that might interest her more if her interest in flowers was genuine, as I flipped to the white ones on the back page. “This white rose, in the language of flowers, means purity, innocence, and new beginnings.” I took the rose, almost instinctively, as I bent down and removed a book from under the seat among my belongings.

“Incredible.” He looked at the dried flower, the faint scent pleasing him. “It looks a lot like the ones we have in the forest.”

“This might be of interest to you, if that's the case.” I held out the book with my hand, while keeping the writing pad from falling with the other.

She placed the rose on the book she was half-opening and reading before holding it with her right arm and ribs, and then taking the book with her left, hoping to execute the "Language of Flowers" gesture correctly. She examined the book's glossy color and the first few pages, feeling strange about simply receiving a book. "Do flowers speak?"

I hurriedly suppressed the laughter that was beginning to overcome me and explained further. “Of course not, Miss Layla. The thing is, just as in your tribe, handing over a weapon implies war and handing over peace, the same goes for flowers. Some signify a deal, others another.” I pointed to the rose sticking out slightly from the book. “The red rose represents passion, devotion, and romance.”

His gaze shifted to the rose and with that, he sought to place both books, one on top of the other, as he retreated to his respective seat and soon found complicated words.

“What is the Petal?”

"The colored part of the plant, as you'll notice, is the white sheet of paper you have there." I returned to my writing, only to realize later that I had made a mistake when handing him the book, as he began asking so many questions, making it difficult to correct some of my plan's calculations and overwrite the more efficient ones.

We arrived at the settlement, with the 4 houses and the small wall, while we continued putting the cargo in order and we left again now towards Lasha, with even more questions than before, as a result, we shared the same side of the seat, while I taught him some things about plants and the subject of colors and I began to ask myself, how they obtained so many pigments at the time only to leave it pending to ask when the time came.