Book of Days: May 18, The Stories of my People

It was hard to explain, even for him, the connection he felt to the home world of legend. Olviaar had grown up hearing the stories from his grandparents who had grown up hearing the stories from theirs. It was a tale, nothing he knew or remembered from his own experience, but it felt at times as though he had.

When he slept, he could see the chaotic beauty of Onaewin’s Canyon, or the majesty of Unalan’s Crossing over the Sunhill River. He walked the streets of Opaiman City, climbing the marble steps of the Emperor’s Ascent to look out over the walls to the vast fields and farmlands beyond. It wasn’t a place he’d have been allowed to go, he knew, if the world had never been abandoned, being only the descendant to a cousin of the Emperor (though now all that was left of the royal family), but still, he saw the view and knew it in his heart.

It was likely, of course, that none of it remained. The world had been abandoned, after all, and none of the stories kept the reason. There was a danger, a great danger, and they had to leave their world behind. That was all. It seemed like a glaring oversight, for those who were left, but though he was no emperor, he was also no fool. If the reason was not left in the stories, then it was because someone wanted it forgotten. It was possible, he knew, that his long-ago cousins had not been the benevolent rulers the stories made them seem, but he also thought it that were the case, surely only they would have been driven from their world. They would not have reason, or even the support, to organize the exodus that left it all behind.

And it was likely, he thought, that if they left because they were forced from the throne, then they would not have included the need to return when the danger had passed. Olviaar knew little of history besides his own, but in just about every world he lived on during his nomadic lifetime, hated rulers who were overthrown almost never had their descendants return and be welcomed.

In their case, he didn’t even need to return to be welcomed, which was a problem in itself. People seemed to turn to him, because of that distant connection, as though he knew anything about how to rule, on their home-world or not, and he didn’t want to disappoint them so he did his best. And right now, his best involved finding their lost world and seeing if it was even possible to bring them home the way the stories said he should.

He had help in it, at least, and the longer their search went on, the more grateful he was for it. His ancestors might be spinning in their capsules, but none of them had been able to get even this close, and Olviaar had long since stopped putting a damper on the hope he felt. They were going to find their world. He would get to see those sights, or what was left of them. He would, at last, be able to give his people a home. If, of course, the danger had passed.

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by | May 18, 2021