Lothar, Traetos Province, Southern Avestria

That night after dinner, everyone quickly resorted to their rooms. The disciples of Roshai had already left the homestead and now she was heading towards her room for getting some shut-eye. She was tired from today's exhaustion and so was Herios. Mythra had an impaired foot and he wanted to get some rest.

Aerytha could never stay awake for long. She used to sleep with the Roshai, who told her stories before sleeping. But today her sleep was perturbed by the ruckus that was being caused by Mythra and Herios in the next room. Roshai was irked on hearing this commotion and she stormed towards Mythra and Herios's room.

"No Mythra, you cannot take my pillow!" exclaimed Herios. Herios and Mythra were pulling the pillow from both sides. Mythra wanted the pillow for himself so that he could rest his impaired foot over it. Herios was hesitant to lend him the pillow. Both of them were pulling it from their sides and none of them was able to snatch it out of the other's hand. Finally, Mythra was annoyed and he smacked Herios at his abdomen.

Herios stumbled behind. He was nettled by Mythra's stubbornness. Herios got up and slapped Mythra on his left cheek. It was a hard blow and Mythra's face changed to red after he incurred the slap. Both of them started exchanging blows, fighting for the pillow. Although it had started as a cordial dispute, now it had transformed into a lethal one because both of them had started to harm each other.

Just when Mythra was about to hit Herios with his elbow, Herios bent lower and pulled his right arm behind. He landed a strong blow to Mythra's abdomen and Mythra toppled on the floor like a toy. Herios sat over Mythra's chest and trapped Mythra's hands under his own feet. He kept his left hand over Mythra's collarbone and pulled him closer by grabbing his upper garment. Herios and Mythra used to fight frequently but today Mythra saw something in Herios's eyes that he had never seen before.

Herios's black colored irises were fixated at Mythra. Mythra could see the same disgust towards him in Herios's eyes that he saw in the eyes of the villagers. Somehow today, his brother's eyes were filled with much more hatred.

His eyes, he thought, as he gazed into Herios's irises. Mythra was terrified of them. Never in his life had he seen Herios so infuriated. Mythra was stupefied on seeing this unusual behavior on Herios's part. Snatching a pillow was not the reason for his acrimonious stare.

Just in time, granny Roshai stepped inside the room and yelled at Herios to step back from Mythra. Herios obeyed. "Both of you, Stop it now!" she exclaimed. She was already agitated by today's exhaustion and she had no energy to solve their disputes. More trouble from Mythra and Herios was not something she wanted, before finally getting some rest.

"He started it" replied Mythra by pointing his finger at Herios who was standing to his left.

"I don't care who started it, I am going to end it if you two don't stop," she said in a daunting voice. Both of them were placated by granny Roshai's reprimanding tone. Aerytha was standing near the Roshai, hiding behind her legs.

"You know what? Let me tell you a story," she suggested and sat on the bed. Aerytha sat over her lap while Mythra and Herios sat on the ground with their legs folded. They stared at each other with gritted teeth.

"The story is about an old woman" she spoke. Mythra and Herios hearkened. Aerytha was already all ears to granny Roshai.

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Once upon a time, there lived a scrawny old woman in a tribe. She collected berries for living and cultivated plants in her garden. Her name was Shari. She walked with the support of the staff. Her spine was bent and her skin was all wrinkly with age. Her braided, grey hair was always tied in a knot as her bony physique worked in the farms.

There lived a righteous god-king who loved his subjects and his people loved him back. Ask not his name, for there is no need to know it. The god-king who lived in his prosperous palace decided to wander the borders of his kingdom. He roamed through the rivers and mountains and valleys from one corner of his kingdom to another corner. People gifted him with all kinds of ornaments and extravagant gifts.

"Shari! Our god-king is here. Don't you wish to meet him?" asked a man but other villagers ridiculed him for this thought.

"What would Shari give our king? She doesn't have anything. Meeting our king is not in her fate" they said and mocked her. Shari felt disheartened. Did she not have the fortune of meeting her king? Was she that destitute that she could offer absolutely nothing to her benevolent ruler? She wondered in exasperation.

The villagers briskly walked towards the town center where their god-king had arrived. There was a huge crowd that surrounded the king. The affection that his subjects had for him was reflected from the myriad of people that had gathered at that place from all the nooks and corners of his kingdom.

They presented him with all kinds of extravagant gifts like ornaments and jewelry. People pushed through the crowd to see their ruler and to spend an ephemeral moment with him.

Shari was in her home and she was eager to meet her king as well. She performed her daily duties of the household, watered the plants in her garden, fed the cattle, and cleaned the surroundings of her house. People who were hurrying towards the town center frowned at her because Shari was engaged in these banal activities when their god-king had paid a visit.

Finally, when all her work was done, she took a small basket from a larder in one hand and carried her staff in the other. She walked with her bent posture. Her shivering hands plucked some berries from her backyard. She collected the berries in the larder and covered the larder with a cloth.

Shari wasn't affluent. She was just an old woman with a mediocre means of living. She had no ornaments or an expensive jewellery to give to her king. Everyone from the kingdom had already assembled in the town center for imparting their gifts to their king and getting largess in return from their munificent ruler.

When Shari arrived at the scene, she was dumbfounded. She saw a plethora of people rushing ahead through the crowd, pushing each other roughly and breaking through the lines. It was chaotic.

Shari could never hope to pass through that dense frenzied throng of people. But she tried, nevertheless. Advancing her staff and her feet simultaneously, she was like an ant trapped in the river, unable to resist the flow.

"Please. Let me through," she whispered in her flagged and wavering voice, but no one could hear her. She was being pushed and dragged vigorously amidst that chaotic horde. "What are 'you' going to give to our king!? Go home." said one of the men condescendingly. He was standing beside her, holding a refectory that was filled with large agricultural produce from his fields.

She saw another man and his wife carrying a basket over their heads, even bigger than themselves. They had brought all kinds of sweet fruits that they had cultivated in their farms. Another man, who seemed like a wealthy person, had brought some ornaments and accessories for the household to give them to their king. His four servants were carrying those wooden boxes behind him, struggling to push through.

Shari looked down at her contribution, amidst those large generous gifts of other people she had brought one small basket filled with berries from her garden. She sighed, disconsolate from her gift. She wondered, why would such a benevolent and generous ruler accept this small token of gratitude from an old woman? What could she possibly give him with this small basket of berries? Nevertheless, she kept advancing.

Finally going through all that rabble, she arrived near the king. People were giving all kinds of fancy things and she felt embarrassed about her mundane offering. After receiving the gifts from the folks adjacent to her and giving them largess in return, the king turned towards Shari. She hesitated initially but she felt relieved on seeing the welcoming smile on the king's face.

She slid the staff into her shoulder to hold the basket in one hand and removed the cloth over it from her other hand. The people who stood near her, tittered on this bland gift that Shari had brought for the king. But the king was calm. He looked at her with no hint of denigration, as she removed the cloth to reveal the berries. As soon as the king saw those berries, he was astounded. The people near him were flustered as they assumed that their king must have felt insulted by this nondescript gift that Shari had brought for him. They cowed in response to their king's astonished face.

Shari herself felt intimidated. The king immediately thwarted the expensive gifts from his hands and moved closer to Shari. Shari was daunted. She looked at her king with her scrawny eye sockets. Her hands shivered and her bent spine made her appear as a dwarf in front of the king.

"My mother used to collect these for me," the king said, teary-eyed. Shari was

astonished to the core of her being when the king advanced his hand forward. She felt like the most fortunate woman who could make her benevolent king reminisce about his mother. There was suddenly a spread of silence as the King himself got down from his chariot and took a berry from Shari's basket. All the people were dumbfounded. Not moments ago, some of them were ridiculing her and now, here she was, lending some middling berries from her garden to their munificent king who was asking for it. But Shari pulled the basket behind.

This frightened the people even more. How could she insult her king like this? Was she a fool?

"Is this not for me?" asked the king, eagerly. "Your Majesty, it is, but I don‟t wish to give you sour berries" she replied and took one of the berries from the basket and took a small bite out of it. The people around her were flabbergasted on seeing Shari, offering her tasted fruit to the King. But the king was placid with a smile on his face. He watched Shari as she took small bites of every berry in her basket. She threw the ones which were sour while she retained the sweet ones. After tasting all of them, she finally offered her basket to the king.

Her bony, shivering hands held the basket filled with sullied berries. "How dare you give these sullied fruits to our king?" exclaimed the people. Some of them detested her with vituperative words while others ridiculed her for being a fool. But the King was still, serenity was reflected in his smile. The king took the basket from Shari's hand, jubilantly, and accepted her benign gift. The people were dumbfounded. Their altruistic ruler had prioritized Shari's sullied berries from her backyard than their extravagant and flamboyant gifts.

"What is your name, wise one?" he asked, humbly. Shari bowed before her king, her eyes watery with the king's righteousness. She had realized his magnanimity.

"Shari, my lord" she replied.

"Lady Shari. You are the noblest person in this entire world that I have ever met" he replied. The people surrounding the king were bewildered on hearing this remark but Shari let out a satisfied smile across her cheek.

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After narrating the story, granny Roshai looked at all three of them. Mythra, Herios, and Aerytha were engrossed in her enticing narration throughout the story. At times, granny Roshai was more of a raconteuse than a priest. "What do we learn from this story?" she asked. Mythra interrupted.

"That food is more important than ornaments!" he said, loudly and eagerly. Herios smacked him on the back of his head. "No you idiot," he said dismissively. Granny Roshai sighed. Lady Shari tasted those berries because she did not want her king to taste the sour ones. Such was her compassion, veracious, and benign.

"She did not want to insult the king but her actions were merely the reflection of her pure soul, which is why the god-king declared her as the noblest person of them all. The other people wanted to exhibit the gifts out of their vanity, but Shari presented it out of her love" the Roshai explained.

"This story teaches us that compassion is more valuable than riches'' she explained. Mythra was intrigued by understanding the moral of the story. Aerytha, even though young, acknowledged the purport. By the time the story had reached its end, Mythra and Herios were placated.

She made Herios and Mythra apologize to each other and finally instructed them to go to sleep. She tucked Aerytha in her bed and kissed her on the forehead. She returned to Mythra and Herios's room to make sure that they were asleep. Herios was already feeling enervated and he needed some rest. Mythra, however, was awake and he whispered from his bed.

"Granny!But who was that god-king?" he murmured. The Roshai smiled and pronounced the name of that king. "Lord Seros," she said and walked away towards her room. Mythra was astonished. The god-king was Seros himself, the almighty, the savior of life on Systara*, the conqueror of light.

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Footnotes:

• Systara is the name of the planet comprising of four continents