You were born into comfort and privalege if not great
power as your high-born house, al-Rashid, had faced centuries of
decline from the time of their founding in the early Caliphate. Your
childhood was one of idyllic peace growing up on the family estate,
Hamzi-e-Rashid in the Gilded Quarter of the City of Pearl, Darvish
Kapur. Your parents were both loving and took great care to give you
and your brother and sister, the best education they could afford.
The family's tutor Farid Mehdari was a good man and like an uncle to
you. He ensured you were grounded in the necessasities of a high
born's life: philosophy, art, drama, etiquette, the arcane and
history. As the youngest child you were indulged in ways your older
sister, A'isha, and brother, Nasir, perhaps never were. There was the
usual brotherly rivalry between you and Nasir and A'isha took her
role as eldest far too seriously in your books. Her harsh discipline
was much hated when it occured but over the years you began to
appreciate both her love for you and the burden of being the eldest
child.
In your teenage years you were respectful but
delinquent, finding games with the city children a far preferable
endeavour than long laborious studies cooped up in your estate.
Despite your interaction with the children of the mardoum, you still
found yourself socially awkward and exasparated when dealing with
fellow high-born children. You preferred to lurk in the shadows at
annual eid feasts and other parties, sneaking out to play games on
the streets when you could. Whilst you had no real friends due to the
limitations of being out of your social class much of the time, you
earned admiration for your quick wit, humour and sense of social
justice. On more than one occassion you outsmarted bullies and
roughians who picked on the weak and defenseless.
By the time you became an adult, it was naturally
assumed your way with the people would lead to some civic role,
perhaps even a place on the Majlis. The Majlis of Darvish Kapur was
more in tune with the needs of the people than most other cities and
more than a few of the high-born would try to represent the mardoum
in its sessions. However, politics was still an ugly business and
your family's low standing and your own inability to get along too
well with the other high-born held you back from seeking office.
When your parents died, two years ago, your sister was
elected to the Majlis and your brother was left to run the family
estate, turning the family's stakes in various city businesses and
caravans into regular profit. Your brother's exceled in finance and
business, giving him the moniker of "the High Born Bazaari,"
as an insult by the other high born. Your sister has proven a
ruthless and determined politician, punching way above the weight her
family name or magical prowess would otherwise afford.
Meanwhile, you have been written off as nothing more
than a waster who spends far too much time with the people, solving
their petty problems and showing a lack of ambition. You brush off
this criticism and devote yourself to doing good and keeping the city
you love a peaceful place. But in your heart, you feel somewhat lost
and rootless. You have begun to question whether this is all that
life has to offer you. Is this all you are capable off?
It is thoughts like these that swarm your mind as you
sit drinking coffee in the coffee house north of the Bazaar. Perhaps,
you think to yourself, it is time to broaden your horizons and seize
an opportunity to be more than the youngest son of a minor house. The
city you love is peaceful and the people content. It is not an unjust
place and it has not faced true peril in your lifetime. Whilst your
empathy and intelligence serve the people here, do they really need
you? All these thoughts weigh heavy on your mind as the morning turns
into afternoon.
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