A Script from the Peony War | manxman |

Script Two | Sword of the Craven | ~ part one ~

A Script from the Peony War

SCRIPT TWO

Sword of the Craven

— I —

You couldn't live in the Zayne if you were useless. Only children and the old had the luxury of lazing the days away. Children were free to run and play after sessions of instruction, and the old had already done their fair share of work for the region. The moment you reach the age of twenty, however; it is expected that some form of labor be done until your body reaches its resting age of at least sixty. By then, more people of the Zayne were able enough to take over what positions would be left empty, and thus the cycle of effort never wore thin.

There were many occupations to take up around the region.

Hunting, fishing, sewing, jewelry making, cooking, record keeping, patrolling (be it the waters or mountains), tradesmen, trainers, educators, and — of course — there were those who'd taken up the art of pleasure. Although their roles amongst the workers of the Zayne could be viewed as the most pointless, their beds were never empty, as neither were their hands.

Referred to as Savants, most people had their favorites. For their pleasures, Savants were rewarded with dazzling gems and beautiful clothing, and while all Savants were highly regarded by those who sought their touch, ones with the most flare and biggest collections of jewelry were set apart from the others. But there was a question that often followed the duties of a Savant.

Were they truly happy?

Surely there had to be some form of self-satisfaction even while in the business of pleasuring others. What gifts they were given brought smiles to their faces, and the body was a mechanism that couldn't always deny the sense of contentment that followed sensual touches. Sometimes, however; Savants grew attachments to others based on more than sexual gratification, and sometimes those attachments didn't quite work out.

Be it the selfishness of sex or the doubt that Savants could make a good wife or husband, most were left in their old age with nothing more than the memories of false endearment and their ever-marvelous collections.

* * *

Most southerners weren't quite sure what started the war between the northerners, but most could agree the reason must have held weight, for who could take up arms against strangers for a cause with no purpose?

Whispers of what the reason could be floated down the continent through Division's River, to the Zayne Fork, until it reached the lower people who called the Zayne home.

Did it all boil down to bad blood?

That was a possibility those of the Zayne murmured, as it was known well there was already a rather large House that'd splintered into two after a meager disagreement. Northerners, from what history could tell, would gladly throw away their kin so as to cling to their riches. But for those above the distant Burgundy Wall to seek the throats of those below it, below a wall they initially erected hundreds of years ago, familial ties couldn't be the reason.