How long had it been since he'd become lost in his own thoughts? How long had it been since he'd allowed his own mind to wander so abysmally far away from the rush of the day to day life of the Abashan? It was, for one of his station, something he really ought to be ashamed of, but then again weren't his people supposed to be beyond the petty bonds of shame? He honestly couldn't remember. Somewhere within his distant mind he could vaguely remember the last time he'd allowed his thoughts to wander this way. He was young, very young. Younger than he remembered being in his entire life, but the memory was gone in an instant. He must have been practically unchanged though, because the memory was so distant, so outstretched, so clear in his head, yet still so far away.
Ah, he thought to himself, but what was anything anymore? He'd certainly changed perceptions in the short time he'd been thinking these thoughts. Yet for all that he felt he'd managed to realise, to understand, he'd managed to simply do nothing at all. He'd spent years and years travelling alone in order to find his own path and find that he had not done any of that at all. He'd spent his life since his birth searching desperately for some kind of meaning and purpose and did nothing but travel and had not done any of that at all. And now, now he was younger than ever, but once again still lost within his own thoughts, this time seeking an answer.
What could he do? He was one of the highest born Abashan. After his father, his first order was to deliver the first shahanshah of all the Abashan to his first order. Now that the first order had been given, his second order was to take his father's place as shahanshah of the Abashan. Young as he was, he couldn't fail. He had done nothing but succeed at everything he'd set out to do. In his short life he'd been the greatest warrior of the Abashan People. He'd been the greatest hunter of the Abashan people, the greatest scribe of the Abashan people. He'd been the greatest of so many things. So what was he to do? What was the point of anything if he was just going to be another Abashan.
'The greatest warrior of the Abashan People' he thought to himself, that was what he was. That's what he'd been born to be, to do. Forgetting all else, he eyed down his weapon of choice, a sword which he'd been given at birth, and he strode confidently towards the door. He wasn't about to let this moment pass him by.
He'd spent his entire life waiting for this moment. He was, exceptional to the extent that he was, confident in his own abilities. Even though he'd spent years travelling far and wide, he was the most well travelled Abashan, but he wasn't satisfied yet. This was the reason he was even here, was it not? If he wasn't, what in the name of the gods would he ever be?
All these thoughts and there continued to be nothing. He was young and sure in his own abilities and that meant that he deserved, that he had the right, to do whatever it was that he wanted. He'd been taught this for his entire life and he still didn't really know what he wanted to do. He was the most harmless harmless creature there was, but this was such a normal day, such a common moment in his life. He was the greatest warrior of the Abashan people and there were no enemies in sight.
'Something's missing' he thought to himself, looking around at his surroundings, a quiet little fishing village in a quiet little valley, nestled in a quiet little part of the Abashan Empire.
Just a short walk from where he stood, a small team of Abashan were sitting outside a house. The leader of the team stood up and walked towards him.
"My Lord, what do you intend to do?" Said the leader. Said his second-in-command. Said his son, Said his father. Said all kinds of things.
He remembered perfecting the art of staring. His father had taught him this when he was very young. He was very young now. It had been so long since he'd stared into the eyes of any Abashan that he had forgotten the proper position. He didn't think this would be a problem though.
He brought his hands together slowly in front of himself, fingers entwined at the base of the fists.
"What do you plan to do?" Said the leader. Said his second-in-command. Said his son, Said his father. Said all kinds of things.
The boy raised an eyebrow. He thought he had heard all the responses possible.
"My strange relatives, I have come to say good-bye. I am leaving the valley on an adventure." Said he. Said he. Said all kinds of things.
"But my son, how will you survive?" Said the leader. Said his second-in-command. Said his son, Said his father. Said all kinds of things.
"I am the greatest warrior of the Abashan people, I can kill anything!" Said he. Said he. Said all kinds of things.
"Ah my son, you need so many things!" Said the leader. Said his second-in-command. Said his son, Said his father. Said all kinds of things.
"I need nothing!" Said he. Said he. Said all kinds of things.
The leader behind him sighed. The son in front of him seemed ready to attack. The mother of his child to his left wept quietly. The child to his right wept even more quietly.
"My son, you're enough for me! All I need is you, just you. Please stay." Said the leader. Said his second-in-command. Said his son, Said his father. Said all kinds of things.
"Please, my son, if you leave I'll never see you again." Said the mother of his child. Said his child. Said all kinds of things.
"My son!" Said the son in front of him. Said he. Said all kinds of things.
At these words the boy could feel the blood seeping back into his face. He seemed terribly surprised by this fact. The son walked closer, the blood-drop tapping against his foot.
"But father, what will I do?" Said he. Said all kinds of things.
"It doesn't matter, just come with me little boy!" Said he. Said all kinds of things.
He could feel his throat begin to close again. His jaws were starting to tighten. His hands would not uncurl.
"Please, produce some smoke." Said he. Said all kinds of things.
"'Of course, my son, sit down." Said he. Said all kinds of things.
He simply stood there, thinking. Wondering why this was happening. No, there had to be an answer. He hadn't come here to challenge his father, had he?
"We are low on coconuts. I came to the village for some." Said he. Said all kinds of things.
Yes, of course! Herbs, why not? He hadn't come here to produce smoke after all. He had come here to challenge his father. And his father hadn't appeared to him yet. There hadn't been any smoke either. There hadn't even been any herbs, unless that was what that was.
"What do you mean the herbs are over there!" Said he. Said all kinds of things.
"Over, over there?" Said the mother of his child. Said his child. Said all kinds of things.
"Over there." Said he. Said all kinds of things.
"Well, no, they're not over there, they're right here." Said he. Said all kinds of things.
He rolled his eyes. He wanted some smoke. He wanted to get going. He wanted to get going right now.
"No, I have some over there." Said he. Said all kinds of things.
"You have a smoke? Where is it? Where is it? Where is my son?" Said the mother of his child.