City of Karandish

1. Nadia 

I recovered my face with a veil as I walked towards the dawning city, only pausing at the hindrance keeping me from my path. And it was the blasted sun that lapped at my skin like a thirsty hound. 

“Aishhh- why now?” I complained, irritated.   

The wind was working against me. No, rebelling is a better word. Rebelling, bullying me even. I’m definitely blaming this on my granny. That woman’s up there howling in her seat, watching the sand feast at my life. 

I catch my breath and wait a sec to deliberate whether I should just turn back. In that moment of hesitancy, I felt the exposed areas of my body stinging, pulsing in cadence to my anger. Like the wind wasn’t already enough, golden coils of sand lashed at me, leaving cruel marks against my feet. Feet that were pockmarked from the last spasm of bruises and blisters.

I regretted every decision that made me live out in the frickin’ desert. Seriously, my sanity was at a tipping point this morning, especially since walking to my master’s house was a pain in the ass.

As the finishing touch to this endless bad luck, my energy was close to nothing. I barely fit two spoons of rice in my mouth before half of my body raced out the door. 

“Ack, -ptoo! Kill me already.” I grumbled.

As I spat out the clots of sand, I steadily approached the men standing guard at the entrance.  With thick tipped spears and tall silhouettes that loomed over my own, I might've mistaken them to be the grim reapers had the sun boggled my mind a tad more. I exhaled a relieved sigh, content with their lack of attention towards me.

Of course, the heavens saved me from expending my energy on the usual exchange with them. I tried to move along but stopped as my eyes found their companion. Dark eyes clouded with the lack of rest shone with tired restlessness. Seems like the guards weren’t up for much small talk either.

I walked by, wondering how the hell they handled the sun's heat in their black outfits. No sleep. Just heat, heat, heat. 

“Take care on your way, yeah?” said a passing guard. I jolted at the sound of his voice and noticed the corners of his eyes lift in mirth at my surprise. Without saying anything, he extended a hand towards me and lifted me up the steep path.  

I managed to nod my thanks, not trusting myself to speak right now. The only thing coming outta my mouth is sand. And I know neither of us would like to witness that. 

Only after he left, was I able to cough up the phlegm stuck in my throat. I winced at my parched throat, annoyed with the grating pain. I needed water or at least some rest. 

Putting my stuff down near an abandoned store, I fixed my shabby appearance through the reflection of a broken window. I went over my haggard appearance and had to bite down on my tongue to avoid cursing out. The fresh clothes I pulled out of the hamper this morning, was a soiled mess covered in the art of Pereshwarian sand. How wonderful, I rolled my eyes.

Hours of blood sweat and tears went into making this outfit, and for it to just go to waste made me wanna break shi’ apart. I swallowed the angry curse, threatening to spill out, and picked up my stack of hay again. Forget the outfit. At least I can make another with the salary I’m gonna receive next week.

I felt the rock crumble uselessly under my feet. It was gonna send me down the slope if I take even the slightest misstep.

I shoved the broken chunks of rubble out of my way, my eyes watering from the dust floating free at each shift. A rat rushed at my foot and I kicked it away, hearing it whimper before returning to the shadows of a run-down tin house. I steadied myself against another boulder as the rocks below shivered at the force of my kick.  

It truly perplexed me. The empire's blatant dispassion for these areas wasn't gonna help improve their image in any way... so, for what? Those fuckin' clowns. Pereshwar clearly has some cleaning up to do if they wanna stay true to the shit they wrote in those bloody books. I snorted. The bullshit I learnt in grade class truly was a waste of time. 

The Kingdom of Pereshwar, magnanimous for its majestic desert and ethereal oases. Inhabitants of this land, the Pereshwarians, took great pride in their land. An exotic beauty spanning lengths of land, strengthening pride, rejuvenating strength... Moreover, it was where the people flourished-

What. Am I supposed to eat the sand? 

“Try walking through this shitstorm every morning, my dear historians. The sand will rejuvenate your will to die-”

As if the God of Sand took offence, He sent a fistful of it into my mouth. For flavour, the rubble combo truly topped it off. I coughed, heaving the sack of hay again. 

"Sorry Sand God. Please have mercy on me." I scrunched my face in mock repentance but paused after realizing how I might look to someone passing. 

I love how I’ve normalized talking to myself. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary. I shook my head and continued along my path, trying to forget about how sarcasm was the foundation of my speech now.  

Anywho, Palawana, the town in which I currently live, is probably the closest to the city. Nonetheless, it's also the most ignored, which works well in my favour. Why you may ask? To keep my existence low-key, that is. 

I, Nadia Rafsani aka Nailah El Nour, am currently working in the grand city, Karandish, infamously known as the land of the exotic bimbos and himbos and everything in between. 

Not gonna lie, I take pride in the diversity of Karandish. Although its history is the only redeemable quality, I still find the city one of the best in the entire empire. Credits go to Mother Nefertiti for becoming the heart of the nation.

No seriously, what would we be without her?

Being the only woman to defeat the opposing empire's strongest warrior with just her character, Mother Nefertiti embodied the emancipation of the Pereshwarian Empire. Centuries ago, the most notable victory against the Vlademese of the West took place in Karandish. In a brutal massacre, Mother Nefertiti managed to seal away Valdere's heart and keep it stored so that no one may ever cross its cruelty. Sealing one heart with another. A brilliant hero, if you ask me. 

I remember the exhilaration I felt listening to those empowering tales. Although much of it has been twisted along the way, the retellings never ceased to amaze me. 

“The Battle of Karana,” I whispered to no one in particular. I felt the air still around me as if it remembered the very battle that occurred on these lands. 

I closed my eyes, savouring the gruesome details of those whispered stories. The ones that were marked off as taboo. 

Some things are better left unknown, my mother used to say, and I’d agree...to an extent. 

Mother Nefertiti defeated the evil calamity known as Emperor Lahad Valdere the III, giving peace and protection to the citizens of Pereshwar… And it stops at that. Even the most authentic history books barely mention it. My hands clenched. Barely restrained curiosity echoed in my mind. 

“Take out the fluff, and I’ll fill in the missing details,” I smirked nastily. That’s why I still roam these streets. To cause chaos, to ruin history, to avenge my grandmother. Yes, that’s my purpose. I need to know what happened at the Battle of Karana. It's the only way I can fulfill my grandma's last wishes, and make the empire repent for what they did to her dignity as a magician. As a woman with power.  

After all, revenge is for the living. 

It is impossible to take out a whole lineage without it leaving a legacy of resentment. The bigotry must go, man. I looked at the castle, dead ass, hoping I can send them an exaggerated image of me flashing them the middle finger. Fuck you bitches- 

One day, I’ll grow the courage to do it in real life, haha. I lifted my now-damaged tunic and gently wiped the sweat off my face. Quickly pushing down the thrumming pessimism, I approached the goddess herself.

“May the goddess’s blessings reach you.” The owner of the hospitable greeting bowed, taking a position beside me to ensure I wouldn't be alone in prayer. 

“And you.” I smiled at her before closing my eyes.

Mother Nefertiti's not a God, but we all thought that she was a vassal. After all, she did for us, it was hard to not praise her efforts. I think of how I etched her beauty into my mind, the lines and curves, the light and warmth, the power and magnificence. I smiled as I followed the trail of light emanating from her, losing myself in the lull of her world.

I reconstructed the gold lines that ran through shiny brown marble, following the spirit that travelled through the Mother’s veins. In an intricate pattern of calligraphic symbols, it entwined her body and circled over her heart. Although it looked deathly, it revealed the struggle of her love and pain for the future of the Pereshwarian generations. The image that I created gave her life. A soul. And it recognized her.

The pioneer of our history and a symbol of our native identity is more a convenience for this damned empire as a decorative placement. More tourists, more money. Capitalism is honestly the worst existence to ever grace this planet- and that’s saying something.

As the gentle chatter of the surrounding people filled my ears, I slowly made my way outside.

“Oops, watch your head there, sweetheart!” A lanky foreigner kindly alerted me before carrying a large box of maps over my head. 

I stared belatedly, not so used to the choice of words. Surprised that it lightened me a bit more than I had expected, I felt a genuine smile emerging on my face. I resumed my walk to Master Thelowars’ mansion with a prouder step. This time, I paid particular attention to which side of the street I walked on. 

It’s common practice for servants to keep their heads down while walking on the sidewalk. As many nobles, aristocrats, and scholars pass by, servants trigger them for some dumb ass reason. The ego- I mean pride, of these very dignified nobles are sky level, and it’s probably for the best, not to interact with them.

“Ayo! Move, ya hussy!!” a large man shouted from behind me.

Before making way, I felt something clip at the back of my feet and shot an irritated glance at the hoarse voice. The burly man pushed a cartel of goods, letting out a string of curses as other servants like me crowded the pathway.

I didn’t let this cloud my chances of having a good day. It’s my pride or nothing, and I had no courage to do the former.