The Distortion

Laith kept conversations going throughout and got to know the mayor better, Wahid the person beyond the rank and status. It felt refreshing to remember that these people, often out of the masses’ reach holed up in their offices and castles, were still just that, people. They had families, loved ones, a favorite color, a favorite dish, a silly hobby to pass the time…things they shared with common mortals.

Granted, you had to be given the rare opportunity to have a chat with these folks to learn about their personal lives, so Laith didn’t miss the chance when presented to him. Naturally, the remainder of their small journey being peaceful made that possible, with no additional trouble occurring past the giant scorpion.

A minor issue to note was the mayor’s slow pace—courtesy of his old age—which came to light after having lost their mounts, causing them to arrive at a later time than initially intended. Although, that wasn’t much of a concern since they didn’t have a strict deadline to abide by. Laith’s mission was to simply escort Mayor Wahid to a meeting point who would be later escorted even further to the capital, by different personnel.

The location was a military outpost of the sultanate not far from the town of Barka to intercept any surprise attacks, the latter being annexed to the sultanate’s territory. An immense square-shaped fortress lay before them, a watchtower standing tall at each of the four angles. Upon greater focus, you’d be able to spot shifting gazes through the gaps, prying for any suspicious movements. Deadly arrows would likely come flying instantly were a threat to be confirmed.

In terms of design, there was nothing sophisticated about it, dully-colored rocks made the bulk of the fortress’ high walls—much like the most of the buildings in the sultanate. And it didn’t need to come off as ostentatious, for this was a military structure, practicality was its priority. Its only purpose was to intimidate the enemy with basic and sheer size, and that it did.

An opposing force—or a foolish individual—would quail after laying eyes on it for the first time. It wouldn’t take an expert to acknowledge that such edifice defended the territory of a mighty country. Although, the sight of the hawk on the fluttering flags would have sufficed. One would have to think twice before raising arms against the hawks of Furat.

Granted, the world was now filled with countries strong enough to rival the sultanate that wouldn’t be fazed as easily by such display of power. One needn’t look further than their neighbors who had been in constant conflict with them ever since the rise of both powerhouses.

Reaching the massive gate, Laith was stopped by two guards. They wore a light chainmail with pointy helmets. Sharp and menacing spears were clasped in their hands.

“Salutations, soldier! We ask that you introduce yourself.” One of the guards spoke.

“My name is Laith Kacem, Mayor Wahid’s escort from the town of Barka.” he stated.

“May you present the document?” the other guard asked.

A document was provided to anyone with the responsibility to escort an important figure, generally stamped on with a confidential seal. It was a standard protocol to ensure the emissary wasn’t kept hostage by a rogue or foreign party.

Uh oh…

Laith didn’t find the document. He kept it strapped to his scabbard, but there was no sign of it.

I must have lost it when I fought that bloody scorpion…, Laith thought, growing flustered.

“Something the matter soldier?”

“Actually…I think I lost it.” Laith admitted with nigh-foolish honesty.

He knew he couldn’t conjure up a lie on the fly, definitely not when panic was taking over. In that brief moment, Laith wished the earth would open its maw and swallow him whole rather than having to bear this shame.

Both soldiers immediately tensed, pointing their spears at Laith…something he saw coming, despite his inexperience. This was his first time carrying out this type of mission; a veteran soldier in his town had handled these matters before. That soldier was now retired, and it fell upon Laith to assume this responsibility. To think that his first attempt would result in a massive blunder and a couple of spears pointed at him by his fellow soldiers…

Whatever happens, do not draw your sword, Laith had to stifle that reflex.

“Apologies, but I can expla—”

“I can vouch for this young man, guards.” Mayor Wahid interrupted him. “Your fellow soldier here has safely led me here, covering all of my necessities.”

“We mean no disrespect Vizier, but this is standard procedure. For all we know, he could be forcing you to say this.”

“While being defenseless? A single thrust from either one of you would gouge his eyes out and yet he still took no action to defend himself, whether by attacking you or incapacitating me.”

“He could be one good Ashkan actor.” The other guard said, still fixated on Laith.

The mayor sighed. “Assuming he was, what will you do about it? Send me back with a spy?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be both questioned.”

The Fares was stuck in a precarious situation. Although he’d been a soldier of the sultanate for nearly five years, he hardly gained sufficient knowledge pertaining to proper protocol and correct procedures outside the battlefield. As such, refuting claims of treachery was a million times harder than picking up his blade and ploughing through the enemy ranks. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option here; engaging these two guards in battle would be catastrophic

Instances like this reminded of his severe lack of experience still. Looking back on it, Laith spent half of his life loafing in school and playing video games, while the other half was mostly about survival and adaptation to a new—yet old—world. And this iteration of his country, a version he mostly experienced from history books and grandma’s stories, remained hard to maneuver.

Basic rules of conduct in this era were far from being fully grasped, let alone administrative work. Not only did Laith grow up in a completely different setting, he barely had any worthwhile engagement in it. The most he had to worry about before the Distortion was being called to the principal’s office…

In comparison, being thrust into these vastly new and different circumstances, without the proper tools, often left him lost and confused. Thus, he found himself clueless—and powerless—before his current predicament.

“You will do no such thing.” the mayor spoke firmly, surprising Laith.

“Minister, do not force our hand please.” a guard replied.

“I find that amusing considering I was about to say the same thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“You see, if we get questioned, and we are not charged guilty, I shall gladly ask your superior to free you of your post. Is that what you want?” The mayor pierced them with a fierce look.

The guards instantly froze, backing off slightly.

“If you think I cannot do that, think again. I could easily charge you for obstructing the work of a high-ranking official, especially since we are not exactly on schedule to begin with. I would rather not resort to such measures, so don’t force my hand. Please.”

Woah, the mayor can be pretty intense…, Laith’s eyes widened.

Both guards withdrew their spears. They had families back home that depended on their income, best not to dwell on this matter.

“Apologies Minister, soldier. Surely you can understand we were just doing our job.”

Laith let out a sigh of relief. “I should be the one apologizing for my blunder. I made things a lot more complicated than needed.”

“No worries young man, that was for saving my life. I simply returned the favor.” Mayor Wahid winked.

Laith responded with a smile.

“As you already said Minister, let us not delay you any further than we did. Please accompany us.”

One of them signaled for the gates to be opened. The mayor walked forward, glancing over his shoulder.

“Well, I guess this is farewell then, young man. I can’t thank you enough for what you did. I hope I didn’t cause you too much trouble along the way.”

“Please, it was both an honor and a pleasure to escort you. While short, the experience was very memorable.”

“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Kacem.”

“Next time, I promise I won’t mess it up!” Laith rose his voice over the sound of the rumbling iron leaves.

The mayor laughed, waving his hand as he crossed the gate.

* * *

Patrol duty was close to meaningless in Barka, hardly any problems occurred within the peaceful town. The people here led simple lives that made it almost impossible for any disturbance to arise. The most that could happen was a “friendly” argument between two competitive merchants on whose merchandise was better. That or the poor street urchins whom he mostly took pity on and couldn’t exact a severe punishment on them.

Just one day bleeding into the next…

That lingering desire for a grand battle would occasionally resurface, despite his attempts to stifle it. Laith would sometimes wish for something, anything, to take place so that he could put his abilities to use, so that he’d give meaning to his existence, so that he’d get to be himself. He hated thinking that way, for he realized he was essentially asking for trouble, hence his constant wrestling with the idea.

But without it, he always felt that his potential was not being utilized to its fullest extent. There was always this itch inside of him that needed to be satisfied, an urge that needed to be channeled. Today was a rare instance where he satisfied that itch, whenever he slew that scorpion. Well, that ended in a few heartbeats, fifteen to be exact. He had hoped the road back from the outpost would prove a similar challenge, but an empty desert was all he was met with—with no one to talk to this time around.

That was also another issue to consider: his increasing strength. The first half of the decade post-Distortion had presented deadly challenges that honed his abilities. Unfortunately, he now reached a point where he needed an even higher level of threat to test his skills. Simple minions and mobs wouldn’t do anymore, Laith required “boss-level” fights in order to level-up at this stage. But once again, he felt guilty about having that thought since he was basically wishing havoc upon people.

He wondered how much of it was his own Incarnation dictating his wants. He was after all obliged to wield a weapon as part of his very being, similarly to many others. In which case, was it really his fault for seeking self-fulfillment? What was he to do if his calling went against the very definition of peace? Everyone would dream of a world without sickness and disease, but what would doctors do without them? Wouldn’t the noble act of curing an illness and saving a life lose all meaning?

Or maybe he was simply making excuses for his selfish desires…round and round, a vicious cycle of recurring thoughts whirring in his mind.

Sigh…, How could some people spend their entire lives pondering on these existential matters? No longer than a few fleeting thoughts and his head would start pounding. Luckily, he finally reached his home where he could simply kick back and relax, not bothering with philosophical ideas. He opened the door, took off his sword and hung it on a peg on the wall designated for his big sword.

“Mama, baba, I’m home.”

“Welcome home mama! Everything okay?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Laith answered idly as he went on to greet to his mother with a kiss on the forehead.

Feyrouz Kacem was making dinner in the kitchen, a small space within the rectangular-shaped house. Her long hair was of dark blond color, flowing over the crimson caftan she wore. Her pitch-black eyes paired with her pale skin granted her an intimidating air, which did indeed manifest through her actual character. However, that was only half-accurate. There was another half of her that was widely different, another half that made her the kindest person Laith had met in both parts of his life.

He was eternally grateful for having the chance to reunite with his mother after her abrupt and mysterious disappearance right after the Distortion. He would later find out that such unfortunate fate had haunted countless people as they inexplicably lost sight of loved ones. Some never got the chance to reunite with the people they held dear, while others were fortunate enough to do so eventually.

That was the case for Mrs. Kacem and her family. It was four years after the events of that memorable day that they found each other by a stroke of luck. She was moving with a small group of people when she stumbled across both her husband and son who, at the time, were still on their own.

For the longest time, Laith and his father never bothered to be a part of a group or community. The father’s judgment was that it wasn’t worth the risk. It was a cruel world where barely anyone could be trusted. One shut-eye and you could easily lose all your belongings, or worse, much worse. Besides, they never felt the need for it since being a Fares and a Fisherman provided them with ample tools to survive.

But that was all there was to it. Survival and nothing more. Yes, they did manage to retain their sense of morality in the midst of absolute decadence, which made them far better than most. However, there was no joy to be had, no genuine laughter to let out, no bright emotions to express. They were constantly on edge, watching their backs, fearful of their surroundings, worried, skeptical, haunted by any and every motion or sound or breath…

Nothing more than a couple of empty husks living just to see the next day.

They hadn’t realized how much loneliness had affected them until they encountered her again. She may not have been the strongest of women, but she was the emotional pillar to be relied on. Some called her overprotective, demanding, possessive—even by her own sons—but she simply called it love. And her family was in desperate need of it. She was their sun, one long awaited after a dark night. How refreshing it felt for them to be able to trust someone with no second thoughts or backup plans.

The first half of the decade following the Distortion was truly a nightmare that every surviving human being was grateful it had come to an end.

“So, how was meeting with the mayor?”

He came out of the next room. Ibrahim Kacem resembled his son quite a lot, the skin tone, the chestnut hair and the cheerful expression were all the same. The major difference was the body type. While Laith presented a slim and scrawny figure, his father had a chest and shoulders as broad as two people combined. His wife and son could both easily fit in his embrace.

“Ah, that will take a while, let’s talk about it over dinner, shall we? As it happens, I’m starving after an unusually interesting day.”

And so they did. Laith couldn’t stop talking about it the entire time they were eating. He shared all the details, minor or major. The scorpion incident nearly caused his mother to pass out, while the situation with the guards earned him a much-expected scolding from her. The mighty swordsman was once again reduced to a fifteen-year-old boy when confronted with his mother.

His father kept hearing one word throughout his son’s blabbering: “cool”. Laith used that word every chance he got, even when it was grammatically incorrect. He wasn’t exaggerating about the “interesting” part.

“Well, allow me to make your day even more interesting,” his father interrupted him, “I found this small note inside my fishing cabin that’s meant for you…there was a message stating that only you can open it.”

Laith frowned. “Okay, that is pretty interesting…”

“You reckon it’s from the army?”

“Why would they send it to your cabin though?”

“Good point.”

“Where is it?”

“It’s in your room, you can check it out after din—”

Ibrahim didn’t even finish his sentence before his son was already gone, nearly flipping over the whole table in the process. Restraining his strength had escaped his mind when he was this intrigued. Laith found a folded piece of paper lying on his bed. He quickly unfolded it.

Meet me tomorrow south of Barka, at the ruins of the coliseum. Be there at the first flame.

Wait, what…? That’s it? That can’t be it, there has to be more, he thought, further examining the sheet of paper. It seemed to have dried after being drenched in water, courtesy of his father’s occupation most likely. He didn’t even finish inspecting or processing his thoughts before he heard a very unpleasant—yet very familiar—sound he used to hear in the morning.

“Laith Kacem, you will come back right this second and finish your plate!!” His mother shouted.

Laith thought about protesting then quickly recalled how futile his effort would turn out to be. He dragged himself back to the kitchen with very little enthusiasm.

“Mama, you have to stop treating me like a child. I’m twenty-five years old now; my peers are already married with children…” Laith lowered his voice lest he upset her.

“I don’t care how old you are, it’s bad manners and a showing of ingratitude to leave your plate unfinished. As for the marriage, you have no one to blame but yours—”

“All right, all right, no need to go there. I’ll just finish the plate…”

Laith’s many failures at getting a wife became a big stain on his résumé. In some areas, he felt he hadn’t grown as much ever since the Distortion happened, like he was still a teenager who just started experiencing the world. His mother’s still bossy and overprotective attitude towards him—over very basic matters—often exacerbated the problem…

Sigh, what am I gonna with my life…?

* * *

Going to bed, only one thing was on his mind: the note left for him. A lot of questions though. Who wrote that? Is it a trap? But who would want to trap him? Should he even go? Why did that handwriting seem awfully familiar? He couldn’t quite recognize it though….

Lost in the numerous thoughts flooding his mind, he drifted off to sleep.