A Dream is Born
1388 Words
Chapter 2. A Dream is Born
A Dream Is Born
Pamel paced within the dark edifice of Rieo, with his bare foot dashing against the rough surface of the castle ground. The heat and feel of the weather had no effect on him.
Pamel, as a peasant, had been very used to discomfort and uncomfortable lifestyles.
He was used to the cold of these snowcapped mountains in Rieo.
He was used to the heat and burn of the sun in Zeth. He was used to the discomfort life was now associated with.
His major agitation, was the fact that he was lucky to get out of the streets, to begin working in the castle, the abode of elite chiefs and nobles.l
His plans had gone terribly awry, when Medard said he wouldn't have none of what he requested, not while he was still the elite chief, of all chiefs.
"Well Pamel" Medard spoke with ample dignity and an air of authority.
With great humility and expectations, Pamel nodded as he reported to Medard's chambers
"If you'd have your cousin Kera stay here in the castle with you, you'd have to win it from the chiefs heart, and you should know where the chiefs heart lies. 'The arena of great revolt'.
Here, duels are fought and won. Flesh ripped and bones broken.
It was a sour field, occasionally crowded by crows and vultures feeding on bleeding flesh and dead bodies.
"I'd do anything to get my cousin Kera into the castle to work in the castle. Anything!"
"I'd give thoughts to your request"
"Aye, thank you sir"
Lights fade.
Pamel had not anticipated 'the arena of great revolt' ability to bend minds. The
task should have been easy he thought. When Medard had considered his request and had informed him he was to battle tomorrow with one of Rieo's most aggressive peasant, he had thought it was a mere peasant.
He underestimated the sly nature of Medard. Rieo's protector, demon and most superior chief, in hierarchy, wealth and age.
"You there! Pig of the lowest slum in the entire Zeth." Snapped a sentry by the hallway.
Slo curtseys and walks ahead.
"Fool. Come here"
Slo walks slowly and fearfully towards the sentry dressed in formidably scary uniforms.
'slssshhhh'
The sound of the sentry's whip aligning with the poor peasants body.
"Arrrggghhh argghhhh" he wails in unadulterated agony.
'Slyyyysshhhhhhhh'
The whip went again, this time meeting the raw flesh in his legs.
The peasant falls on the weight of the bricks he carried on his head.
The bricks here, are carried to and fro to the top of the building until dusk before one went on break.
This process is repeated until dark, or until one passed out.
Everyday, Pamel rode his cart( given him to fetch wine and meat from suppliers outside the castle and back to the castle.)
As an advantage, he got the chance to witness the despicable treatment of peasants and swore he would put an end to it all.
He called this agenda and vision 'The peasants dream'.
"Pam!" Kera waved as he rode passed the site.
"Behind you" he yelled back. It was too late, the sentry behind her gave her a solid slap on the face.
She fell on her bricks and stood back again. Pamel tried memorizing the face of the sentry, but he was too far and he had masks on.
After what seemed like an unending meeting, the rulers of Zeth had concluded their 'seventeenth' meeting for the month of 'beam'.
The most anticipated day in Pamel's life finally dawns. A hundred and fifty peasants had been brutally forced to attend the duel at ' The Arena of Great Revolt '
The arena was built like a stadium. It had a very wide and spacious centre, and bleachers circled round the centre of the field.
The bleachers were all cleaned and wiped by peasants captured from 'dreg' , the poorest and most insecure region in the entire Zeth.
The spacious field in the arena was now filled with about seven carts built like moving prisons or dungeons, to carry peasants in a cage like structure fastened to carts.
About twenty peasants were squeezed into each prison cart.
Before they battled, the wretch broke into Pamel's mind.
He had heard rumours that his death had been part of the discussion in the almost 'never ending' meeting the Chiefs had prior to the day of the duel at the 'Arena of Great Revolt'.
After all carts arrived at the arena, the entire place was awkwardly silent. Chiefs and nobles sat at the bleacher directly facing the centre of the field, where the fighters usually stood.
Pamel was still in one of the caged carts as he observed very intelligently, his environment.
At the wall close to the entrance of the arena, read a poem inscribed on the wall:
'oh pig of the lowest dreg
Oh peasants,
What you live for?
oh born servants
Lunch this noon, comes with duelling blood
Red enough to push scorpions and flood
Of emotions or excitement
Of vanity or victory
With each fist you decide your fate
Choose this day if you shall feast'
Pamel felt the poem should have been addressed to the chiefs and not peasants, because the tables of hierarchy, wealth and rulership was about to be turned.
The last line 'choose this day, if you shall feast' snatched his attention at once.
A drum begins to beat. It was a kind of beat one wouldn't mistake for anything aside violence or imminent violence.
As soon as the drum stopped beating, a very loud pipe and horn was blown. It was loud and domineering.
Chief Sekani stood from his bleacher, next to him was Chief Medard, lord of Lords. And the rest of the other chiefs, chief Shan, Lucas and Dylan.
"Let the duel begin" Sekani says as he takes back his seat.
"Aye aye! Sire sire! Fire fire! The time is now" a centurion dressed in his customary red uniform say with a loud voice. For centurions wore red and black uniforms, while sentries wore dark green and black.
Two sentries walked haphazardly into the field. They walked in an odd manner, like they hadn't eaten or they had been standing all nights in wherever the hell they were stationed last night.
Their faces were totally masked, and they had no visible smile from their masks.
"Fight!" A centurion yells after the last drum ceased to beat.
"Ahhrrr" the first yelled as he advanced towards the other, who was bizarrely still.
Equipped with only their bones and flesh, the fought like maniacs struggling to survive. Actually, they were maniacs and they were struggling to survive. In the arena of great revolt, there was no backing out or two men standing.
After a match of duel, there could only be one winner.
The first sentry gave a solid punch to his opponent, he nodded him repeatedly on his lower lip, until he ripped it off and it fell to the floor.
The other sentry who's lip was ripped off, fell to the floor, crying in pain. His opponent jumped at him, punching him repeatedly, and aggressively.
He continued to drop solid punches on his opponent, until he was covered in blood. The crowded arena was filled with on lookers staring intensely at the two sentries.
Abruptly, the sentry who was repeatedly punching his opponent, stopped and looked at the crowded bleachers filled with dignitaries and people of class all around the country.
He stepped aside and fell on his face.
The centurion who gave the command for the match to begin, quickly ran into the field and confirmed that the other sentry was dead, as he laid in a pool of his own blood.
"And we have a winner!"
"Castillo!"
"Hail! Hailllllll yea"
" yea! Aye yes! "
The crowd hailed and cheered at the bloody scene. It was pure entertainment.
"Next! Pamel versus Orion"
'Yeahhhhhh!' the crowded yelled at the mention of Orion, the demon from the pit of the great revolt.
Orion was bound and dragged to the field where Pamel was at, by Seven mighty sentries. When they got to the middle part of the field in the arena, they looses him free and fled his presence.
"Let the duel begin!"
- Writer
