So Be It

"I will not inherit the Lightweaver," I declared to Guisee and everyone present. A murmur of shock and confusion rippled through the crowd.

"The Duke is still alive and in perfect health. He will take care of all of you, as I only wish to return to my kingdom," I said, bowing slightly to show respect. My task here is done; there's no need to linger any longer.

"Wait," Guisee interrupted, "The Duke has already abdicated his position, and the ceremony bestowing it upon you has been completed. No one else can bear the title of Duke Ligthweaver except you. You now possess the authority insignia."

I shook my head resolutely. "I am sorry."

"Young Master, we're discussing the Duke Lightweaver position. There's only one king at the pinnacle, and beneath him are the four dukes representing north, east, west, and south. We govern the entire eastern realm. I understand you are the king of Isolade, but our territory is a hundred times larger than Isolade's. We are at the apex of power. This position will grant you immense authority; you'll be among the highest nobility," Guisee implored.

I sighed heavily, responding, "I am sorry, it just doesn't feel right to me."

Guisee, perhaps sensing a different angle, suggested, "Think of the women. As duke, you could marry a thousand women if you wished and revel in the luxuries of this title. We will provide whatever, or whomever, you desire."

"It's not about the women too."

"How about money? We have a lot that you can use!" added Guisee.

"Well, money is not sinful," I almost got baited. "But it's not about the money either."

"Everyone, stay here," Guisee commanded the guards. Turning to me, he said, "Young master, please follow me."

With a sense of urgency, Guisee led me to a massive iron gate. He used four distinct keys to unlock it. Once inside, the sight was staggering. Mountains of gold coins, regal crowns, intricately crafted weapons, ornate chairs, and other treasures sparkled before my eyes.

"All these riches, this grand mansion, and the vast lands bearing the Lightweaver name could be yours," he whispered, almost in awe of his own offering.

All my inner devils were screaming to take it—the money, the power, and the women. What more could a guy ask for? But I must never follow greed again, or I will lose everything. So I responded calmly, "Still, the answer is no. We're just wasting time here. Tomorrow, I will return to Rouge Haven I hope you understand."

"Please, Young Master, grant me one last chance. If this final gesture doesn't sway you, I will relent. I promise never to broach the subject of the dukedom again."

I wanted to turn down the old man's plea immediately, but a part of me felt compelled to give him one last opportunity, even if it ended with my refusal.

"Very well," I sighed. "This will be your final attempt."

Guisee's face lit up slightly. "Prepare the carriage and the horses. We're venturing out."

Feeling a grumble in my stomach, I remarked, "If we're leaving, I'd appreciate some sustenance. I haven't had my lunch, and I'm famished. Perhaps something for dinner as well?"

A maid promptly handed me a bundle containing bread, succulent meat, and a flask. Whether it was water or wine, I couldn't immediately discern, so I tucked it into my pouch for later.

Our journey was quite. Draped in cloaks, we concealed not just our visages but our very essences. These garments were imbued with magic, allowing us to merge with the shadows, ensuring that our identities remained a mystery. We are moving to Lament's End.

This place bore an oppressive atmosphere, laden with hopelessness. In contrast to Valyria's vibrant avenues, the lanes here were shrouded in darkness, punctuated occasionally by the dim glow of a misenchanted lantern. The winding pathways seemed to echo tales of sorrow, each corner revealing more desolation than the previous one.

Hovels built from scrap materials leaned on each other for support, like old friends weary of the world. Rotten wood, rusted metal, and remnants of what seemed to be old magical artifacts were all cobbled together to provide some semblance of shelter. It was evident that even the magic that reached this part of the city was decayed, broken, or discarded.

A low whimper pulled me from my observations. Following the sound, I came upon a sight that gripped my heart. A group of children huddled together, their eyes hollow from hunger, their clothes tattered. One of them held onto a single piece of stale bread, sharing minute crumbs with his siblings, who received it as if it were a piece of gold. Their innocent faces held an expression older than their years - the haunting knowledge of hunger and cold.

But what was more disheartening was the resignation in their eyes. The acceptance of their fate in a city that boasted prosperity and magic. It was as if the enchantments and grandeur of Valyria never reached these depths.

"Why have you brought me to this place?" I inquired, a mixture of confusion and curiosity evident in my voice.

Guisee let out a weary sigh, the weight of the world seemingly on his shoulders. "There's a prophecy, It spoke of me to bringing young master here."

I frowned, seeking clarity. "But what's the significance of this place, Guisee? Why are we amidst such despair?"

He paused, searching for the right words. "I can't say with certainty. The prophecy was enigmatic."

My gaze shifted to the ragged people around us. "Who are these individuals?"

Guisee looked at them, a hint of disdain crossing his features. "They're mere commoners, the downtrodden. In the grand continent of Valyria, they might be considered the frayed edges. They lack influence, strength, and, by many standards, purpose." 

Our journey took us deeper into the heart of the slum, leading us to a clearing resembling a town square . This space was dotted with temporary tents, all haphazardly arranged, offering scant protection from the elements. Around flickering fires sat elderly folk, their spines curved from years of toil and neglect. The lines on their faces were like creased pages from a somber tale, recounting lifetimes devoid of the magical privileges that the rest of Valyria reveled in.

To one side, we observed a group of teenagers, poor dirty, weary and holes clothes their hands moving deftly as they practiced rudimentary forms of magic. With the absence of proper tutelage, they relied on stolen and discarded scrolls, trying to harness even a speck of the city's magical essence. Their determination in the face of adversity was heart-wrenching.

We moved on, coming across a well in the center. But instead of clear, sparkling water – a hallmark of magical cities – the water was murky and stagnant. People waited in line with rusted pails, knowing this was their only source, no matter how tainted.

But what struck me most was a makeshift school under a large, torn canopy. A middle-aged woman, with streaks of grey in her hair and lines of weariness etching her face, narrated tales of old Valyria, where magic flowed freely and was accessible to all. The children, sitting cross-legged and wide-eyed, hung onto her every word. They reveled in her tales, their imaginations painting a world far removed from their current reality.

Guisee, always observant, tapped my shoulder, directing my gaze to a secluded corner. A handful of musicians, their instruments showing signs of wear and age, were playing a haunting melody. The tune was bittersweet, but it seemed to momentarily transport its listeners away from their present miseries. It was clear proof of Lament's End's indomitable spirit – that even under the harshest conditions, art and hope found a way to thrive.

Choosing a spot amongst them, I sat down and surveyed my surroundings, taking a deep breath. What purpose did I have here? A pang of hunger reminded me of the meal I had with me. I beckoned to some nearby children and displayed my provisions – bread and meat. In mere moments, they swarmed around, eagerly accepting the food until there was none left.

From my pouch, I drew out the gold coins the Duke had bestowed upon me and handed them all to Guisee. "Buy as much food as you can and bring it here," I instructed.

Guisee stared at the coins, then back at me, confusion evident in his eyes. "Why?"

I responded firmly, "Just do it. After all, you and Duke Lightweaver owe me that much."

Nodding, though still seemingly perplexed, Guisee rose and departed on his errand.

A soft voice interrupted my thoughts. "Sir, do you have more food? My younger brother hasn't eaten yet."

I shook my head, "I don't have any more with me, but if you wait here, there will be food soon."

Another child piped up, hope gleaming in his eyes. "Really?"

I nodded, trying to offer reassurance. "Yes, my friend is getting some. Just be patient."

Their faces lit up with joy, reminding me of days long past when missionaries would come to our place, bearing food and hope.

A curious child asked, "Who are you, sir?"

"I am…" I paused for a moment, searching for the right words. A flood of memories washed over me, memories of being one of these children. I was once the one hoping for a morsel from the missionaries, overlooked by many, yet here I was now, in a position to give, to change things.

Tears welled up in my eyes as a poignant realization hit me. Once, I was just like them, hoping for sustenance and love. And now, my deepest wish was to ensure that in the future, no child would ever feel the pangs of hunger, the sting of neglect, or the weight of invisibility.

"I am a missionary…" I finally said.

The children exchanged glances, their brows furrowed in confusion. "What do missionaries do?" one child inquired.

"They bring hope, light, and love to ensure that no one suffers from pain, hunger, or neglect. They work towards a world filled only with kindness and compassion," I explained gently.

A spark of hope appeared in the child's eyes. "Will there ever be a place like that, sir?"

I smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from the child's forehead. "Yes, it's called the Kingdom of the True Source. It's a place where all sorrow, hunger, and pain are replaced by boundless love, light, and understanding. Where every tear is wiped away and every heart finds solace."

"And what are missionaries?"

"Missionaries are selfless souls who dedicate their lives to a noble mission. They work tirelessly, ensuring that everyone has the opportunity to enter the Kingdom of True Source, a realm of Infinite Light and Everlasting Love. Their goal is that no one is left behind, no one has to endure pain or suffering. Through their unwavering commitment, they seek to guide everyone to the True Source, where boundless light and love await."

"So, you are a missionaries?"

My eyes grew teary. Missionaries were the people who helped me through some of the toughest times in my life. They are noble, and their hearts are too beautiful to be captured in words. I am just a killer. I am not like them. I am a sinner, yet accepted by the True Source as one of Light and Love.

"True Source, let me read my daily check-in prayer."

So, I offer my prayer: 

"Come to the True Source, God of Infinite Light and Everlasting Love, all of you who are weary and burdened, and the True Source will give you rest. Take the teachings of the True Source to heart, for it is gentle and humble, and you will find solace for your souls. 

Now, hear me, everyone, for the True Source is already here. Place the True Source in your heart, call upon the True Source from your very being, so that this Source of Light and Love can find its way to your heart, illuminate your heart and self with infinite light and everlasting love.

For the True Source is always loving and nurturing..."

[Reward:

Total Healing within a diameter of 1 kilometer.]

"So be it." The heavens seemed to listen intently. From the vast expanse above, a soft glow began to emerge. It started as a pinprick of light, gradually expanding and illuminating the inky sky. The residents of the slum looked up in wonder as countless feathers, bathed in a divine luminescence, began to drift downwards.

The world seemed to pause, holding its breath as the delicate feathers touched the ground, the people, the water of the well. Wherever they landed, transformation occurred. The murky waters of the well became clear and shimmering. 

The first to experience the miracle was a woman name Mara. As the ethereal glow enveloped her, her fever broke. Strength returned to her limbs, and for the first time in months, she sat up. Hearing Lena's familiar cries, she took her baby into her arms, feeding her, singing to her. The child's cries transformed into coos of contentment.

Kiran, playing outside his hut, saw a feather touch his hand. Almost instantly, the patch of afflicted skin began healing. It started from the tips of his fingers, moving upwards, leaving behind skin as soft as a newborn's. The children, seeing the transformation, approached hesitantly, and soon, laughter and games ensued, with Kiran at the center.

Old man Eron, witnessing the miracles around him, closed his eyes, tears streaming down his wrinkled face. As the light touched him, warmth spread through his legs. The old twisted bone realigned, and the pain that had been a constant companion faded. Standing up, he took a few hesitant steps, then more confident ones, his laughter echoing in the night.

The faces of the sickly gained color, and the weariness in their eyes faded, replaced by hope. The children, previously gaunt from hunger, began to laugh and play, their cheeks rosy and full of life.:

"My dear True Source, if you want me to be the light and love in this dark, sorrowful, and weakened place, so be it. Let me be the smallest part of Your Light; let me be the smallest part of Your Love; let me be whatever True Source wants me to be." I looked up at the dark, starry sky and the weary, impoverished people around me.

"For I will be the Duke of Lightweaver for these people, so no one will have to endure pain like mine again."