Part 1

One day, a young scholar, around the age of 17-20, was sitting under a mango tree just at the outskirts of the city, far east of the Middle-East, and a war was going on in the same area at the same time when the young boy was sitting under the tree.

A ruckus could be heard from nearby, and the person that was next to him caught interest in what was happening very quickly. He got up and wanted to rush over to the scene of the crime and find out what was going on.

"You mustn't go. You have no idea what's going on in there..."

The young man commented, opening his right, bright, blue eye to spare a glance at his disciple.

"But master, i-it could be something big. I need to go." The man was desperate to go, itching and shivering with utter anticipation, just waiting to rush out of there and become a part of an angry mob, or to support someone who has been caused injustice. Just something, anything at all!

"Do what you want...God knows best." The young boy closed his eyes and began to think. 'I wonder how she's doing...wait, is it wrong to think of her...?' His eyebrows began to furrow, the grinding of teeth and a grunting sound could be heard as well, and if you looked closely, really close, you could see a tint of pink on the tippy top of his ears, and a light, very light brush of pink of his ever so white cheeks.

And while he was fidgeting and grunting, his disciple was long gone...

"Master!...Master! I have...news..." The man came rushing, panting like a thirsty dog once he stopped at the tree. "They're...they're carrying...torches. Master, they're carrying torches-"

"But that's none of our business, now is it?" The young man said, standing up from the mango tree and stretching. "Oh, but they're taking them into your house."

"...then it's none of your business, now. Is it?" The man said in a more intimidating way, a sly smirk forming on his lips.