its unfinished but i figured i might post what ive already got, hope you like it.
ill post what i write when i can
ProjeKt Oath chap 2
Sulos reflected on the last couple of weeks and his current choices to make as he watched the cart he had hitched a ride on slowly roll away from the crossroad under the starry skies. He could easily catch up with the cart and continue to the capitol Silverhaven or he could continue walking towards Valburn, a noble homestead according to the owner of the cart, he suggested getting a job there. The boy later calculated how long he had to go towards the capitol compared to Valburn, and if he continued on the cart he would be waiting for five days compared to a few hours walking, tempting considering the bleeding state of his feet, but he decided to take the man’s advice, so pain would have to be endured.
And so Sulos started limping down the dark dirt track leading from the road in his green tattered pyjamas.
***
He reached Valburn at daybreak after walking one point two four three leagues according to his quick calculation, he was proud of himself because he had not forgotten to include the factor of his limping foot.
Sulos wasn’t a normal boy, so said whoever had the surprise of seeing his unique gift, not very fair if you asked him. It wasn’t his fault he was extremely talented with numbers, not his fault if he saw the world differently. But whenever he tried to elaborate how his numbers helped him in life, he was shunned as a lackwit.
Maybe that’s why his mother died giving birth to him, maybe that’s why he was never adopted from the torture of his life? For the hundredth and twenty-first time he asks these questions to the only person who would listen to the ramblings of an accused lackwit orphan, for the uncounted time his numbers fail him.
‘Need more factors,’ he mumbles to himself as a tear flows down his dirt-stained cheek, ‘some other day.’
Feeling subdued for the uncountable time he limps toward Valenwood.
---
‘But… but I need a job, please.’
‘Sorry kid, but if you want a job you’ll have to petition the count for one,’ announced the young scholar in what Sulos’s numbers hinted was an overly-confident voice. That was confirmed when the scholar bent down and whispered into his ear; ‘follow me.’
And so he did as the young scholar walked swiftly into the darkening sunlight. The wind tugged at his pale green pyjamas and made him shiver, a quick reflex calculation told him the wind wasn’t bad enough to make him sick, with anything he didn’t already have, anyway. Though he still felt uneasy, something pulled on him, like a nagging number in the back of his mind; something that demanded his attention, some stray factor. But he hadn’t the time or concentration to deal with it at the moment, he was busy following the scholar through the slowly increasing crowd, as well as committing the streets to memory, numbers helped him with this too.
They passed through an abundance of streets, his mind automatically counting in the far back of his mind; it was up to nineteen streets, three hundred and seventy-three paces, and seven hundred and fifty-eight people; He liked counting.
He now saw why the man with the cart named the place noble. It was huge, he hadn’t enough data to calculate the exact area, but the simple number of merchants in this district alone screamed wealthy, he imagined the people here seldom went hungry.
He was lead through twenty-two streets and three districts before the page stepped into a tall building that looked distinctively like an orphanage. Sulos hung back until he realized that the page couldn’t have known that certain piece of his history.
So he stepped across the threshold breathing in the musty air and observing his new surroundings, the place was flooded with the rays of the morning sun. The rug under his bare feet was intertwined with light and darker colors that complimented each other in ways he marvelled at.
‘Stay here for a moment.’ He heard the scholar mumble as the sound of footsteps started up the nearby staircase.
He was left in silence pondering on how far he had come, and once again considering his choices. He was beginning to wonder where the scholar had gone when he sound of footsteps could be heard again, and slowly he become visible leading an older scholar with similar but slightly grander attire; gold stripes could be seen on the robe coming down from her shoulders, this and the way she carried herself indicated superiority.
‘And who might this be?’ she asked as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
‘M-my name is Sulos, my lady.’ stammered Sulos.
‘My lady? Ha! You need not call me by that title, my name will suffice. Call me Marlissa; I’m head scholar in the count’s retinue.’ She explained as she came closer to Sulos.
Sulos stood there for a few seconds before his numbers connected and he realised she was expecting an answer.
‘O-ok, my la- uh, Marlissa,’ Spilled out Sulos nervously.
Marlissa smiled and asked; ‘Where are you from?’
‘Murndas.’ Confessed Sulos.
‘Murndas? I’ve heard of it, there was a bit of an incident there, if I remember correctly, though probably too long ago for you to know of it.’
‘Truly, I wouldn’t know of it even if it had happened after I was born.’
Both scholars frowned at this, and the younger scholar who had led him here went so far as to ask, ‘Why would you not know?’
‘Not much news ever reached me where I was.’ Murmured Sulos.
‘And why not?’ demanded Marlissa.
‘I’d rather not say.’
There frowns increased but they didn’t press the point. Sulos stood there figeting for a long time under the stare of the scholars, finally Marlissa sighed and sat on a bench in the middle of the room, and gestured for him to do the same on the bench opposite.
‘Now, BenJee here tells me you want a job, is this correct?’ asked the older scholar once Sulos had sat.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ answered Sulos. ‘I’m good with numbers.’
‘Are you now?’ she quiried with a quirk of the lips.
He was used to being doubted, but he had hoped the scholar wouldn’t have.
‘Yes, they help me sometimes too.’
