Reshaan Ay Abinsuuri, slumped his shoulders as he left his family home to pick up food from the markets. There are more reasons to hang one's head in the world than one can count, but this one was unique to him, as it was not a matter of pride or shame, or even really sadness. Resh… Strong, broad-shouldered, tall, indomitable Resh, hung his head… in defeat. As a bright child and a brilliant man, he always knew it was coming, and he had planned for it. Things weren’t just going well, they were going swimmingly. Then suddenly, defeat came like a thief in the night to steal the joy away from what had promised to be the best day he’d had in years.

Herald the Harbinger, was Resh’s favorite Rakugo(Single man storyteller) in all the world. That wasn’t too great of an achievement given that he was the only one Resh had ever heard perform, but that did nothing to spoil Resh’s excitement. He was due to come to town for another show today after so many years away, and Resh had convinced his baba months ago to give him this day off. Resh had to agree to do all the shopping for the family till the date arrived to ease the burden on his baba, but it was well worth the trade. Everything was all lined up for Resh to spend his day rereading his sliver of the 1001 Sacred Tales before getting to hear some performed by a real live master of the Fallen Word Arts. Oh yes, hear them he would… he just wouldn't get to hear them with a fresh, clear, and unburdened mind.

The last time Herald came to town was almost 15 years ago, when Resh was a boy of 5 and his Baba was still strong. A lesser noble had recently been assigned to govern their town and placed a large order at the shop to furnish his new home. This left Resh’s Baba a much more tired, happy, and rich man than he had ever been thus far in his life, and so he magnanimously decided to spread the wealth to his family. They sat in the very front row of the theatre, and Resh stared at Herald as though his very soul depended on him not missing a single word. His gaze was so intense in fact, that Herald himself noticed. He invited Resh and his family backstage. This was the day that Resh’s 5-year-old heart was sure he had waited his entire life for. This was different than the time that his 4-year-old heart was sure he had found his calling of taking over the shop his family ran. He had matured quite a bit since then after all. He would grow up to be a great Rakugo, just like Herald.

The very next day Resh begged his parents to buy him his own copy of the 1001 Sacred Tales. This was the day that he learned the value of hard work as he began doing household chores for 10 weeks straight to earn enough to buy his small sliver of the Tales. Normal children would find a fancy like this and give it up after a few weeks, but Resh Ay Abinnsuuri was no normal child. He ate, he slept, he stuffed things in his nose that would have been best left on the floor, but every other waking moment he could be found memorizing his paltry book of 108 tales. That is until the day his baba took him to the shop and announced that he would begin his apprenticeship from that day forward.

While young Resh was a bit alarmed by this development, he also carried with him a fair bit of excitement. Now he would finally be allowed to begin cultivation. With an act demanding all his cunning, he would be able to slip the responsibility of the shop to his younger brother and could pursue his true dream of the Rakugo Arts. Resh had great respect for his baba’s discipline, and for the Art of Carved Columns too. It just wasn't his passion and he wouldn't willingly shorten his own life to be extra good at something so… mundane. Besides, why would parents have many children if not to make up for the disappointment guaranteed by at least one of them?

Having decided fully that he would be the family’s happiest disappointment (since no one had seen his older brother Raj for almost 2 years since he ran away) he began his plot the same day he learned the first mudra. He felt the power of the gods' creation flow freely into him and he knew he could make this work. Every day he would divide his focus between practicing his baba’s craft and reciting the 1001 tales. Then he would gather prana in meditation at night. It was well known that the tasks honed during the Pranic stage of cultivation would be easier to remember and learn about upon moving into the next. Although Resh would have a head start on his cultivation, his little brother's cultivation would be devoted entirely to the Art of Carved Columns. By the time Resh was 18 his brother would surely outclass him and would be named the shop's heir.

Against all odds(the odds weren’t that bad but it was still a bit tense from Resh’s point of view), his plan succeeded and his brother was named heir on Resh’s 18th birthday. Barring something catastrophic, he was free of the responsibility. They would wait two years until Parkhet was 18 and Resh would do… something else. Maybe help around the house with his sisters until he found something suitable. He faked a disappointed yet understanding face the day they told him, but on the inside, he cackled like a maniacal villain. His victory had finally been claimed, or so he thought.

Three and a half weeks to the day, Resh came down from his room to see his baba sitting in a chair looking paler than usual whilst covering his wrists. Resh’s mother stood next to his baba and gently massaged his baba’s shoulders as he coughed violently. When his fit of sickness had passed, Resh’s baba looked up at him and began his destruction of Resh’s well-laid plans.

“Reshaan. I know we had decided that your brother was to take up my burden and support the family, but it seems fate had other plans for you.” His baba coughed again, this time more violently than the last as though his body was attempting to expel some impurity that was more than physical. When the episode subsided he continued.

“Your Mother and I have prepared you and your siblings for my death. The loss of my old age is the price I paid to grant you the best life I could. I regret nothing, and given the chance, I would still spend my days toiling away at the carving of wood and spending time with my family. Tomorrow you will be named as the owner of the shop. As demanded by law, your brother will be an apprentice of yours for 5 years when you will be able to transfer the title to him if you wish. From this day forward, our family depends on you.”

Resh stood silently. His mind wanted to race, to burst, to writhe in agony as it searched for an answer. Some way out of this. Something that could be done to turn this situation around but when he reached into the deep bottomless well that was his intellect and imagination, he found… nothing. There was no way out, no workaround, no solution. This simply was, or more accurately, would be.

Of course, he was sad that his baba was going to pass away soon(how could he not be?)but he had been prepared for that. It was simply the way of things, those who held no noble title or military rank could not learn the other 4 mudras and cultivate without spiritual contamination. The craftsmen, merchants, and peasants alike would survive until about 50, performing inhuman levels of work before passing on their skill to their favored child. Then they would die to be reincarnated. This was as sure and as true as each new day has a new sun in the sky. But this… it was as if the whole of the universe had conspired against him. His baba was only 40 for goodness sake. He should have had years left before it was time for him to be taken. And this was why one of the best days of Resh’s life had so quickly become one of the worst. He slumped his shoulders and sighed, as he continued on his way to the market.

As today was a special day for Resh for many reasons, it created a special circumstance for him. That circumstance was his lack of awareness. Normally he would be described by all who knew him as nothing less than vigilant in his observations of the sights and sounds around him. He had a seemingly near-perfect memory even without being at the first full stage of his cultivation and could put his observations together in such a way that made him seem to predict the future at times. But now was not one of those times, and today was not one of those days. Fate seemed to have other plans for him, and none of them were pleasant. In fact, the vast majority might be considered by most people as awful luck.

Resh’s abject misery was not long for this world. It left as quickly as it came, being immediately traded for surprise, and followed by anger. Someone was walking on the wrong side of the street and had crashed directly into him. While there were no formal laws dictating what side of the street one walked on, it was a generally understood social rule that even the nobles adhered to. That could only mean that whoever had run into him headfirst was either a social exile who had no more care for a social convention or, simultaneously worse and more likely, a foreigner. As he lifted himself back to his feet he saw a teenage girl no older than 15 glaring at him as he had just murdered her dog. Her pale blue eyes and long blonde hair belied her fierce personality and volatile temperament. Resh internally heaved a sigh as he realized he was dealing with Melvin woman.

Resh stood up and began to bow his head in mutual apology as was expected of both parties regardless of social status. He noticed the girl’s well-made red dress and precious metal rings. It was clear she was at least the child of some visiting noble. He assumed that meant she would, at the very least, be educated in the customs of behavior in her new land. Before he could open his mouth to speak, however, his assumptions, just like his hopes and dreams were blown apart.

In what could only be described as the midpoint between a shrill shriek and an annoyed wail of despair, the girl in front of him began her tirade.

“Filthy Peasant! Are the nobles of this land so incompetent that they cannot be bothered to train their dogs?!? What manner of beast are you to not defer to a lady and a noblewoman at that!” She brushed some dust off of her dress and continued “I should have you executed! What do you have to say for yourself, worm!?! Or are you cursed to be blind, stupid AND mute?!?”

Everyone in the marketplace stopped and stared. Partially out of abject horror at the aberrant trampling of their cultural customs by some snooty noble foreigner, but mostly out of intrigue at Resh’s response. This was a small city after all; one takes one's entertainment where one can get it.

Resh stopped short of bowing his head, now that it was clear cultural norms and niceties were no longer on the table. Normally, Resh’s cool head would have won out over his embarrassment, but today was not a normal day. Resh had had too much of his day go wrong in too short a time frame to be worried about any consequences this girl could bring down upon him. She may be noble, but he was the son of a craftsman and that demanded she shows him far more respect than she had. Resh inhaled and sharpened his tongue.

“My apologies my Lady, from your appearance I thought you a noble, but I knew surely I must be mistaken. Even the poorest of children are aware that one walks on the right side of the road. All of the nobles here, including the foreigners, know enough of the basic customs to do so, even the emperor. I weep for the failure of education your parents have cursed you with if you might accidentally imply that you deserve more deference than the emperor, as that is punishable by death.”

Her face grew bright red with every word and she was almost visibly steaming with anger. She opened her mouth to retort but he continued before she could get a word out.

“I beg you 1000 more pardons my Lady, but you also seem to be confused about my status as well. I am a craftsman. The law requires that I bow and obey only when speaking to military officers and royals. To be demanded to do so by anyone else is tantamount to illegally declaring themselves as such. Surely, this was not your intent and is yet another failing of your parents and nation to have not prepared you to speak with anyone from another country.”

She reached behind her as if to pull something out from behind her back.

“It seems as though I will have to…”

A voice cut through the silence with a bittersweet sting that every child who has ever disobeyed a parent knows all too well.

“ENOUGH!”

A woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties approached Resh and the young girl with all the authority naturally bequeathed to the mother scolding her child. The crowd parted before her and when she was within a few feet of them both she harrumphed and glared at them.

“I thank the gods neither of your parents is here to see this as they would surely both die in the streets of embarrassment! Have you not been taught better than to make a commotion in the middle of the streets!?!? All of these nice people are being disturbed by your selfishness!” She circled around the both of them and stopped to point at the girl. She slowly crept closer as she talked.

“I know not what land you are from, but I know that in every land it is shameful to speak in such a way to a stranger. What would possess you to speak in such a way in public no less!?! Shameful.” She turned to face Resh.

“And you, for all your talk of manners it seems yours were left at home with your poor family. Even if she did not act as custom demands, you should have! Why did you not simply bow your head and walk away?!? Both of you will apologize and go on your way!”

Resh was expecting to hear some explosive reaction from the rude girl, but when he lifted his head he saw her slumped over like a scolded child… just like him. It would appear as though some rules are universally respected across all cultures. The one at play here: You do not argue with someone else’s mother. He put his arms to his sides and bowed as the young woman grabbed the hems of her dress and curtsied. They both spoke at the same time.

“I apologize for my rudeness.”

The woman who had scolded them made a satisfied look on her face before returning to the flow of the crowd. Resh outstretched his hand to shake hers as he had learned was customary in Melvin. Somewhat surprised, she took it and shook it. It was then that his true nature as an observant young man returned to him with blaring alarms that something was wrong. He glanced at her fingers and his eyes widened.

“Didn’t you have rings on earlier?”

She glanced at her fingers as Resh reached for his pouch of coin that was supposed to be on his hip. Understanding hit them each like a brick falling from the sky. They shouted in unison.

“THIEF!”

Resh scanned for the woman's cloak and immediately took off like an animal stalking its prey. He would NOT lose something else of value today. He would not be made a fool of by fate a THIRD time in one day. By this time the woman realized she had been caught and was already running at full speed. He had expected to catch up to her with little effort due to his body being enhanced by prana. Women did not typically inherit craftsman positions and therefore were not usually cultivators. This woman evidently did not adhere to custom. This was the second time today that something like this had caused Resh no small amount of grief, and that little bit of annoyance gave him the fuel to follow her into a dead-end alleyway. He stopped and opened his mouth to speak but someone beat him to it.

“You give me back my rings you filthy thief!”

It was the girl that Resh had run into… that had run into him earlier. Frankly, he was shocked. He knew she was a noble but even amongst noble families, cultivating women was just not something one saw often. Especially not ones who had reached a stage where such an intense run would not at least leave them winded. She looked like she’d just finished a light stroll through the park, while he was just barely avoiding bending over and panting. Resh had two thoughts at once that simultaneously increased his annoyance. “Life is truly unfair sometimes,” and “The world is certainly a big and diverse place.”

The thief of a woman turned around in mock surrender with a sinister grin on her face.

“Alright, alright. I suppose you’ve caught me and now you’ll be wanting your things back. That’s only fair.”

Resh opened his mouth and sharpened his tongue for what he hoped would be the final time today. A fierce blast of hot wind roared at his back as the earth beneath his feet trembled with such force that it knocked him to the ground. As he attempted to gather his bearings he looked behind him to see a giant balloon of metal and cloth with the symbol of the Eastern Shogunate. He stared as a huge flaming ball of steel was flung from the thing to the ground causing the earth to tremble once more. He saw soldiers drop down rope ladders and slowly descend as his mind reeled from the sudden shock of the situation. He looked back to see the thief was gone. And now he was left with a haunting question for which he had no answer. What now?