The Assiniy's Legacy

The Mission

A week has passed, and Mordan hadn't still made any preperations for the travel.
He realized that, while walking down the street in his noon break from leathercraft, whenever he thought about planning it, he got dreads about the hardships the travel should contain, these dreads, in turn, led him to frequent forgetfullness about it.

Protests have risen all over Salawan town like muhsrooms. Mordan wanted to have a close look on them.
On the main street that ends with the wagon station, angry protesters marched silently towards the mayor's batiment, where they stopped, and mordan could see their angrily silent expressions. A mustached brown haired man ahead of them was standing on the batiment's outer wall, he yelled while facing the facility, waving his right arm to the crowd:
"PEOPLE_ARE_LOSING_THEIR_JOBS! THEIR LIVINGS ARE LOST, THE DECREE 22 HAS TAKEN THEIR PROPERTY, RESTRICTED THEIR FREEDOM, AND DECEIVED THEM. THEIR RIGHTS ARE BEING VIOLATED, THAT IS INJUST! WE CALL THE MAYOR TO LISTEN TO US!"
A big approving roar followed that introduction, and thousands of hands rose.
The audience was repeating with him his words enthousiastically, until he got pulled down unexpectedly from the side of the mayor's facility by one of the police, the protest leader then tightly grabbed the edge of the wall, and while his legs were being pulled down by two other police men, he added before falling down:
"DOWN DOWN WITH THE DECREE 22!" Then the whole audience yelled those words and ran towards the walls to climb them. Mordan, however, took the way back.

He thought that most of them were certainly fish manifacturers, they used to own individual shops that were all quite unified in production and were inter-competitive. Once the new decree obliged them to submit their minishops to the foreign company, they lost their freedom to work as it suits them, and gradually, their salaries became, strangely, lower.
Moreover, agricultural products, especially vegetables and cereals, became rare and too expensive.
A recent large arrival of Yoqorian immigrants in these "shitty times", as Mordan named, worsened things, since they were new competitors to native Salwanians in basic work posts.

Mordan reflected, on his way back to the shop he reopened, on how he rarely found the conditions there favorable for development and prosperity. That is why he has once considered, with a bunch of old acquaintaces, to plan for an illegal migration on a ship to somewhere else. (He can't afford the legal one)
Perhaps, he thought, he may visit a realm like the Kamani islands which is told to hold one of the oldest libraries in the world. He was also fond of a festival that was held two times a year about Kamanian culture, in which one of his most impressive events was a joyful energetic dance of Kamanian brown-skinned girls, he has always found it funny that their bushy curly hair was vibrating while they danced. He loved their food as well, he had the privillege of eating much of it since most Salawanians didn't like it.
His mind wandered to imagine himself leaving the town by port to live in Kaman, the library island, to study there, to eat their salty-sweet fish food filled with exotic fruits, to see their famous volcano, their beaches, and the so-called 'jungles', and, perhaps, to marry a Kamanian girl to estabilish a family.
However, he soon recalled again that he is expected to go for another travel, a mysterious one: Going to Yoqori, getting the secret matter, refinding its uses, using it to assist the unification of Yoqori.

The dread returned again, but he stopped walking and tried hard to face it this time.

He was reluctant to go, not because he would miss the city, but he was unsure whether such a journey would be the reasonable choice to do. He thought that it was too hard for him to bear up the harships of such a journey, he realized that he felt too weak for that.
He layed his back on the wall of the entrance of a narrow alley, overwhelmed by a sense of guilt. He thought that this travel requires sustenance and tools, "Rubbish!' he spat to himself, he got more than sufficient gold in the box of Assin to buy any necessary sustenance and tools. There are many dangers on the path, such as robbers and wild animals, he thought again. However, he has enough gold to rent high quality guards for his departure and return. Such a travel requires survival skills; however, he thought, he has twice read a book called 'Surviving The Harsh', he only needs to apply it. He sighed deeply. He felt still very unsure.
What if he died on the road? Isn't the city a safer environment, he thought but felt disgusted by that, a man is supposed to carry on things on his own, he answered himself automatically. Then closed his eyes and tried to peer in deep inwards.
He felt too incapable for carrying on fights with thieves and criminals, for he was sure that only those skilled in the art of combat can manage to survive in hostile lands. The road he should be taking to that secret matter is largely an insecured one, as Frski pointed out when he studied the map. He thought that he is surely a 'worm' in such places, and he should probably wait for years to prepare himself for that. He
growled a low 'No', and covered his face with his slightly plumpy hands shamefully.