《The Diary of a Concubine》Velvet Sin

1、Prologue : The Secret Diary

　　When I recall the childhood in Allanak, so briefly known, it is overlaid in my mind by the anxious whispers from my mother. In my dreams silk clouded people, exquisite plates, arrogant smirks and vacant eyed attendants populate the colour bright scenes. Only the Trader's Inn survives in my memory as it is, and those who danced and laughed within its walls.

　　She never dared to use my birth name ever since father warned her. Too pompous, he had told her, bad. So I became Karissyn, Karissa, Rissa, and sometimes, simply Ari. Maybe it should have bothered me. But it does not. Name is just a sound in the air.

　　Mother left her position with her lady to follow father. It was the first time he had to travel for an extended time. Cenyr, he said, is a merchant's secret. He must find it. I did not understand why it was important then. So we followed him. I recall my brother carried me in his arms as he rode atop the kank. It felt safe. Many years later, I could still remember that long ago warmth, the simple joy of family which became the one and only light to illuminate my darkness.

　　Father was moderately successful. It was good time then. Food was plentiful, and we could have new clothes every year. We were almost happy. Father tried to teach us his trade. But it was brother who really understood the numbers and values. Still, I loved watching them bargaining with the traders. Everything was fascinating to my young eyes.

　　Then father lost himself in a bargain with a templar. Mother went mad with grief and launched herself at the man. Sometimes, I can still feel the warm blood in my dreams. I remember those cold, cold eyes when he looked at me. I recall thinking that, if I survive the day, I'd never be afraid in my life again. I stood rooted until brother came a day later. Then we buried the bodies and went home. I watched him sob his heart out. There was no tear for me. I was ten that year.

　　Life changed, perhaps not as drastically as some. We never spoke of that day. Never talked of what I had seen. Brother simply picked up father's trade. But he did not have father's contacts or experience. I wanted to help him. He refused Wanted me to stay happy for as long as possible, he said, for our parents, and for him.

　　It was quite impossible to do what he wanted for me. He never knew of the nightmares. I learned how to get by when he was away on one of his more hazardous trips. I did not tell him how I managed it. Some things are best left unvoiced.

　　I always try to be impeccable when brother came back and sometimes even after he left, at least for as long as I could. It often means that I will have no obsidian left for a full meal for days. His trips take him home infrequently. I was left with much time to myself, too much time for my own liking. So I sought out crowds. The buzz makes me feel alive, but seldom safe.

　　Despite everything, I know brother still blamed me for our parents' death. If not for my love of scents and flowers, he would not have gone there and met the templar and mother would not have followed him. How did I know? Brother never held me again.

　　It didn't stop me from loving perfumes.

作者有话说

　　Story based on a character in an online game. (www.armageddon.org) Modified and edited for my own amusement.