I was depressed. Depression and writing do not mix!


There was nothing... special. Lassen was not itself with the demise of its lord, yet nothing special had come to this place, no magic that remained to honor such a loyal, worthy man. Nothing but a mound of moist dirt, and the carven marker that identified its tenant.

Now that there was nothing to do, she simply sat there, staring at the loose loam and resting her hands on its cool surface, sometimes sifting the grains between her fingers as if it would allow her one last touch, or maybe some sense that he was still there, watching over her. It was all so lonely without his company... No one paid her any mind, aside from the tax collectors and the men who found themselves interested in the manor. In a few weeks, there wouldprobably be a new lord to serve, though none would be as great or noble as this one had been. None as popular or loved.

Her mourning would be ended. No, she would /have/ to end it, somehow, some time soon. It wouldn't do to be caught in this house when the King's new commander arrived; Asaka wanted to be free of his yoke, whatever he would be like. She wasn't even really a slave, but it made no difference to the nobility did it?

'But where will you go?' she asked herself silently, resting her hands again upon the loose dirt. 'You have no money, no horse or carriage, hardly even a change of clothes. You'll /look/ like a slave, and someone will try to pick you up and sell you in truth this time.' It was soft and dry, a little cooler than the early spring air but not as bone cold as the legends made it out to be, whenever they talked of burials and the undead. her hands were coated with dust, but she didn't care. There wasn't anyone to impress, anymore.

She was such a spoiled, ungrateful maid. Lord Belenus was paying for her life with the loss of his own, and all she'd every done was complain, protest, drag her feet. Perhaps the Lady's death was her fault after all; if she had been a little more agreeable, a little less trouble, she would have been allowed to treat the Lady, and perhaps even save her life.

Was there any forgivness? Was her selfishness the source of so much pain and misesry? Life was nothing without her master... He was the reason Asaka left her room in the morning, groomed and neat, and ready to live another day. Greeting him, caring for him, even menial tasks like ironing his clothes had been happiness. Those tiny smiles he gave her at the end of the day were the world.

All gone. All gone...

This wasn't right. What a meaningless death he'd suffered, dying for one, lonely little girl who was nothing but trouble to him. If anyone ever found out...

'Why can't I fix this? Why can't it be reversed? /I/ should be the one to die so he might live. I should be the one to take his place in the netherworld. Beliza wanted /me/.' Life wasn't fair. Yes, she knew that was the way things had to be. But couldn't the gods overlook her, just once?

Asaka lifed her hands from Belenus's burial mound, wiping them clean on her starched-white apron. The villagers, should they ever come, would find it blasphemous that she had buried such a great warrior in the /ground/... But Asaka had no raft, no means of burning, no rocks to build a proper tomb nor the strength with which to build it. This was all she could do for him, and it was certainly proper in the culture she remembered from her childhood. Yet another reason to leave, she supposed. Remaining only to be shot down by angry villagers would not be a fitting response to Lord Belenus's sacrifice.

Standing was difficult, after a morning of sitting on her legs in front of the freshly tilled plot. Grass and dust clung to her skirt, and she made a half-hearted attempt to brush it away before she reluctantly turned away from her master's grave to return to the manor.

His death would not be in vain. Even if it meant running, and leaving behind the only remnants of him that she had, his sacrifice would be made meaningful somehow. He had gold, parchment... a few items of value and robes that she could take with her to remember him by. With that... Well, perhaps she might be able to achieve what he had always spoken about but never managed - a trip to her home. Her /real/ home.

It seemed a bit absurd at first, but why not? It wasn't as if she had anywhere else to go. And Asaka would not be a slave in Yamato - even if she could not find her family or offer any proof of their existence, she herself would stand as evidence that she belonged. Her shrine pendant remained tucked safely away with her personal belongings, and if she rid herself of the apron, perhaps...

She halted with a sigh just inside her room. It felt positively criminal to even think along these lines. It was like running away - /really/ running away, breaking out of her master's house and stealing her passage, along with the money she herself was supposed to be worth. Maria's admonishments - a slave's morals more than anything else, from a woman who had served her entire life - still lived in her mind. Never run. Never damage an employer's reputation. Never steal. Always turn your cheek, when struck. Never openly disagree with your master.

But master was dead. His smiles were gone, and she no longer had master.

Honestly, she preferred it the other way. This cold emptiness in her heart was no competition for the warm, cordial smiles of her former lord.


---
The scene ended here, and there was supposed to be more, but... I just couldn't scrounge up the inspiration for it. I'm not particularly touched by Asaka's predicament, for one thing; I thought that senario was sad, but I had more empathy for people like Lorenta, Lucian, and the Shiho/Suo thing.

Then, the second problem: reality. How would I get her to Hai Lan? And what would she find there that would be worth the hardship she'd go through to get there? I didn't have a good idea of what would happen - frankly, just no good ideas at all. So I dropped it, and it was dead before it hit the floor.