Promise

S' aen watched in silence the seagull circling first one mast and then the other. One flew the red flag, the symbol of his home and his stomach lurched at the memory. The other flew the blue flag, and he remembered the imperial speech about the evil lurking on the other side of the sea.

"Only with the purpose of deceit, the darkness took the most serene color. We will prevail. Our chosen warrior..."

S' aen filled his lungs with the salty breeze and pulled the cowl low on his face. He hunched his shoulders to match the forlorn look of the other workers. The smell of rotten fish and the filth of the docks surrounded them, however, if, for others, it may be the stench of the rut, for S'aen it was the scent of freedom.

He inhaled deeply again the breeze, and blue eyes flashed in the back of his mind. Ariana floated to him, her face radiant with hope. He was ready then to promise her anything.
Her voice beseeched him.

"Don't come back without it."

And promise he did, then embarked the next morning on a ship bearing a red flag.

S' aen's hands glided through the wide sleeves of his cloak, in the telltale posture of a worker on an errand. Tight enough to feel the pouch at his waist and the square, ridged object it concealed.

He gritted his teeth as the last memory reared its ugly head. That night, the night before, he went to say goodbye. There was no mistaking Ariana's profile in the moonlight.

"He'd bring it home, and we'll be rich, my love."

S' aen joined the row of workers boarding the ship with the blue flag and the cowl hid his grim smile.

He would keep his promise.