A Lotus-Scented Breeze

Avina Garamond

Chapter 1 – Introduction

Saahal is a land far on the eastern-most part of the continent, settling right on the equator. The capital – Lamur – is fenced off from the land by a stone wall. To the north, a river flows. To the east, bamboo forests as far as the eye can see. To the south and west, plots of rice fields or silk factories littered the countryside. Farther from the capital lay mountains riddled with gold ore. Inside the capital, the streets are noisy and bustling. Houses were low lying, with large roofs. Towards the center, the houses became more cramped together, and eventually were stacked one on top of the other, forming tall structures with many roofs. Merchants littered every street, nook, and cranny selling their wares. The main street was the widest, caravans marching through the entire city to the palace to sell their wares directly to the king, and to the city. The palace was vast, consisting of five separate palaces. The main palace, where the king resided; the east palace, where the prince resided; the west palace, where the king's wives resided; the north palace, where the concubines resided; and the forbidden palace, where no one resided.

Or so they said...

The wind was especially restless that fateful night. A figure, curled in thin silk sheets, shivered on the too-large bed as the icy gales from the northern mountains swept into his room. He couldn't sleep, it was too cold. He stood up, long ebony locks coming apart and drifting past his shoulders. He walked sleepily to the paper screen door to close it but realized... it was already closed. He waited until his eyes adjusted to the dark and felt around for the cause of the strong draft. The wooden frame of the door was firmly secured to the opposite wall, why then did the wind blow as if there was no door at all. Long slender fingers searched sleepily around the paper screen. Soon, they broke through through a spot in the paper. He felt the hole. Did the wind really a punch a hole that large through his screen? He stepped back. One step, two steps, eyes widening in growing horror.

The wind did not cause slash marks, daggers did. The screen was slashed to paper ribbons. A silent hand covered the ebon-haired man's mouth and nose. The smell of chloroform wafted through the night air, and the ebon-haired man collapsed unconscious into the phantom's waiting arms.

He awoke groggily on a firm surface. He opened his eyes but couldn't see. At first he thought he had gone blind, then realized it was just dark. Too dark. He raised his arms to feel the area. They could move only about six inches in front of his face before hitting a wooden wall. They could only move two inches to any side. A little space between the crown of his head and another wooden wall, and another little space between his feet and yet another wall. He was trapped, in a very small box. He lay still, hoping to hear where he was going.

He heard whispers, and the soft padding of feet. His box was being carried by hand. Suddenly, he felt weightless... Then a loud crash brought him to his senses. He was thrown into one side of his tiny box and he cried out in pain. The noises stopped. The captive kept quiet fearfully.

"Go!" he heard a rough growl. Loud clatter erupted from underneath the captive and he was thrown onto the other side of his box. He recognized the clatter as horses' hooves, pounding swiftly on the stones of the main street.

The journey was long. The clatter soon ended, and softened to dull thudding – the lands around the city. Time passed. He heard rough laughter occasionally, and the clinking of cups and plates. He grew hungry, and restless, but didn't dare cry out. Eventually it grew cool, and the pace slowed. The northern mountains. He had gone for days without food or drink. In the mornings, the wood was covered in water, which he licked. The arm grew warmer. Then unbearably hot. Going was even slower. The captive felt himself rise and fall gently. He put together his geographical knowledge and reasoned that he was in the Quarassiessian desert. Why?

Quarassies was very different from Saahal although the two were neighbors. Every year, Quarassies grows into Saahal, because Quarassies' boundaries are the desert, and the desert travels. The desert was not rough, cracked slabs of packed river sand, but soft, mobile sand. Dunes as far as the eye can see. No water, save for the river running through the land. However, the occasional outcroppings of stone were highly valued. Limestone, sandstone, granite, marble, obsidian. Turquoise, lapis lazuli, agate, amethyst, garnet, emeralds, peridot, malachite. Tin, lead, copper, iron, silver, and especially, gold. Quarassies was a treasure trove waiting to be excavated. It was a rich country, with everything at its disposal. Precious stones and metals were traded in for lavish wood, perfume, silks from all over the world. The river Asees provided sediments year after year, flood after flood, making Quarassies also the most fertile land around. Grain, barley, chickpeas, pomegranates, and surprisingly, beef, and of course, fish were shipped away in exchange for foreign scientists, thinkers, philosophers. Gorgeous pottery was fashioned daily, and traded for horses and animals from foreign lands. Every city in Quarassies was full to burst with people living happily, working busily, each with a smile and shining eyes. The most lavish of all cities was the seaside capital – Qwair – where the festivals never stopped, where the merchants sold all of their wares, where everyone praised their long line of kind kings.

The palace was lavish, made almost entirely out of white marble, every stone filed and polished by hand. The palace was enormous, extremely tall due to an architectural design from another land – columns. Surrounding the palace was a large garden full of palm trees, plain and others with figs and dates and even a rarity – a banana tree, imported from another land, farther south. The garden was dotted with ponds, the largest sporting fragrant lotus flowers crowned with broad, green leaves. The inside of the palace was as lavish as the outside. The steps up to the palaces were made of pink marble. The inside was made of the same white marble as the outside. The throne hall was the first room in the palace. At the back wall, there were more pink marble steps that led to the high throne.

Upon the high throne sat the king of Quarassies. He was unadorned, in reed sandals, with a simple linen wrap around his waist. His golden circlet sat on his head, stating he was king if someone mistook his regal pose. A troop of merchants dressed in black came up to the throne. The king of Quarassies looked at the merchants with disinterest. Saahalians.

"Your Highness," one of the merchants started, "We are merchants from the East. The king of Saahal, Lucian, sends a gift to your highness in hopes of strengthening our diplomatic ties." They brought the box up. The king of Quarassies sighed.

"What's inside?" It seems he already knew the answer.

"A priceless gift for your eyes only. We dare not open it." The king of Quarassies flicked his hand at them, annoyed.

"Go." The merchants bowed and disappeared in a puff of smoke. The king stood.

"Nessus!" he called. An aged servant moved with quiet grace toward his king.

"At your service."

"A hot bath. And supper. That egret I killed today, I am famished." Nessus smiled at his king's irritated state.

"You are bothered?"

"Another useless gift from Saahal. I am tired of their gold and jewels. They give what we trade them. I don't need any more gold or precious stones. We started making coffins out of gold and stone not three years ago. For gods' sakes!"

"Sire... Sephiroth..." Nessus was the only one to call the king by name to his face.

"Yes, Nessus?"

"A hot bath, yes. It will be ready within a moment." Sephiroth nodded and retired to his chambers. His chambers were made of the same white marble, but had an ornate, golden bed in the middle and an elaborate chaise closer. Piles of furs and silks and clothes were in every corner and heaped on the bed and chaise as well. Sephiroth reclined on the chaise until Nessus announced the bath ready.

Servants underneath the hot bath hall worked day and night to keep the fires burning so that the king could take a hot bath whenever he liked. Sephiroth entered the bath hall. Servants disrobed him, led him into the hot pool, slicked him with warm oils. They washed him, bathed him, combed his hair. They plucked out his underarm hair. Three girls danced in front of him, swinging weights by their hair. A couple musicians provided music. Perfumes were added to the water, or spread on Sephiroth's body. He closed his eyes, content. His most beloved servant was mumbling in a deep voice the story the dancers told. After the bath, Sephiroth walked, perfumed and bejeweled, through his castle. His sandals were gold, and he didn't wear a simple cloth, but covered his entire body in silk cloths. Hmm... maybe Saahal sent a box of silk? That was possible, and silk was more useful than gold. He greeted his royal advisor and told him he will check the box now. His servants led him to the treasure room, and he ordered it open.

Servants broke the lid open. Bright Quarassiessian sunlight streamed into the box. A figure coughed and curled away from the sunlight. Sephiroth stood still, surprise slowly bleeding away from his body.

"Lift him," he finally said. The man had a rather starved look to him. He was so thin, Sephiroth saw his every bone, those that poked from the silk robe he appeared to be wrapped in. His eyes were not wide, like his own, but slightly narrowed at the corners. Saahalian. The king of Saahal sent him a slave boy. Sephiroth sighed. He could have left the box in the treasury unattended for weeks. The captive glared at him with ruby red eyes, black locks falling over his face. He struggled, though weakly. Sephiroth noticed that besides the captive, there was also a Saahalian fan – a secret weapon. Now that was a worthwhile gift indeed. Sephiroth looked at his captive again.

"Undress him," Sephiroth ordered. Servants peeled off the robe and undergarments from the thin figure.

"釋放我！釋放我！你知不知道我是誰 ?" the captive screamed.

"Gag him," Sephiroth ordered. A cloth was stuffed into the captive's mouth. His glare became more smoldering, more intense. Sephiroth walked around him. The captive tried to make himself small, not comfortable with the critical gaze over his naked body.

"Slave!" Sephiroth called him. The captive looked at him. "Do you understand Quarassiessian?" The captive continued his glare. "Is that a no?" Sephiroth pestered. The captive started struggling. Sephiroth nodded towards his servants.

"Harem," he ordered. The servants reclothed and dragged the captive towards the harem hall. The captive struggled all the way. The captive, better known as Vincent Valentine, a prince of Saahal, was thrown into a marble room. He slipped over some sort of silk cloth and slid over the marble hall and fell over. He heard was seemed like giggling. He looked up. He was surrounded by girls. Many, many young, pretty girls. They giggled and pointed at him. The doors slammed. Vincent stood up and ran up to the doors and banged on them.

"开门！释放我 !" The girls started laughing behind him. Vincent turned around, angry. One of the harem girls drifted towards him.

"Do you understand Quarassiessian?" she asked. Vincent nodded. She smiled at him.

"My name is Saran. Welcome. Let us bathe you." She nudged Vincent to the side. Vincent shook his head. More girls walked closer and kept nudging him. They nudged him through an archway into an enormous pool hall surrounded by columns with a view of the gardens and ocean. They pushed him down the marble steps into the water and unclothed him, to his shame. They poured oil on him and rubbed him and washed him. He struggled, panicking. Exasperated, the ladies left him alone. He took a cloth and washed himself alone in a corner of the pool.

Meanwhile, Sephiroth rested. He played a game of Kentess with his favorite servant and listened to the drone of his voice as he spoke of some sort of epic poetry from a faraway land.

"Nessus, your voice will sooth a lioness who lost her cubs," he said. He won the game and lazed on his couch. He ordered grapes to be brought in. He reclined and occasionally picked a grape from the vine.

"What do you think of the newest harem addition?" he asked. "A bit too thin, a bit too starved, I think. Maybe the girls will take care of him, and he'll turn into a real gem, but I don't know... From Saahal... I can't even understand him." Nessus listened to him quietly, nodding in agreement.

Sephiroth lazed on the couch but was feeling restless. He needed something to do. Something unleisurely. He hunted several hours ago, he shouldn't feel so... energized.

"You know what, Nessus? Bring that new harem boy in. He might as well show what he can do." Nessus walked out of the room with aged grace. How Sephiroth loved Nessus. He was like a father, brother, and best friend to him all at once.