ACT II: The Man from the Far East

In the three weeks that Rashan and Arsha have moved into Britannor and became full-fledged registered citizens, they observed interesting things about the Empire's capital. Vitalia was a bustling and successful city, and Aldmoor- a small urban district of Vitalia was the busiest. The location was where tourists frequently visited and immigrants moved in. Aldmoor is said to have the highest rate of economy boost and also the highest criminal rate. The train network system was always active and the newspaper media company earned a lot of earning here.

Arsha, who has been raised all her life in a local village back at Persie, was overwhelmed by the hyperactive activities carried out here. Rashan had no problem with the town's hustle and bustle as he understood the ways of commerce as the son of a successful merchant, however he was considerate of Arsha's temperament and her delicate condition. So finding a home in a quiet valley at the outskirt of the Aldmoor District was the best choice of his judgement. Their quiet home was also a few kilometers to the train station.

Rashan took a short trip to the station with his bicycle he purchased from his country, dressed in his best robes and Kaftan and a small leather bag strapped at his shoulders. His destination was the center of Aldmoor, and his aim was to rent a shop.

"A Shop?"

"Yes, Brower. As soon as possible. So we could start our business" Rashan flashed one of his bright smile at his friend.

"I don't know, Imani. You know how difficult it is to find a home, talk less of a shop."

"It was no trouble finding a home. Arsha and I have built a home for ourselves at the outskirt" Rashan said. "Oh and she invites you to have dinner with us."

Brower scratched at his beard as he fiddled with his tumbler. "I can't. I've got work to do. And knowing your wife, I doubt she'd ever invite me-or anyone- to dinner"

"Oh don't be like that, my Arsha is lovely"

Brower scoffed at his friend's statement as he brought his tumbler of beer to his lips.

Rashan gave him an incredulous look and only shrugged. "Mr. Brower, we've finally moved to Britannor. To Vitalia. All the dreams and huge business we have planned out will finally come to fruition"

Brower gave a loud exhale and rubbed his frothy dirt blond beard with a small napkin. He tucked the used clothe in his shirt pocket and leaned towards his friend across the table.

"Look around you, Imani." He began "This is Vitalia, not Qeran. I know why you left your country but Vitalia isn't any better. It's worse than Persie. Behind the promise of fulfilled dreams and future is a den of snakes and wild beast. The sooner you realize that the better."

Pulling his brown eyes away from Rashan's amber ones he sighed. "I have no idea why I asked you to come"

Rashan fell silent, his eyes trained on the grey pigeon perched on a lamp post. It's beady black eyes briefly scanned the pedestrians speed walking along the sidewalk before it spread its wings and flew towards the North-The center of Vitalia.

"I have always wanted to come to Britannor when I was a little boy. Father and Brother Rasheed would tell me stories from the travelers of how blessed the Empire was. After I married Arsha, the peaceful Persie I grew up in became a battle ground. It wasn't safe for Arsha and we had lost Rasheed."

His voice slightly cracked as he recalled the sight of his broken and bloodied older brother who had suffered the effect of the war first hand. The last word his brother told him was; "When this war is over, we will go to Britannor and own a big business"

Burying his brother was the last thing he had expected. Rasheed, an honest and upright man died in the effect of a Political strife, sparking a war between Qeran and Serya. Father had refused to call it a war and insisted it was just a Political unrest between greedy politicians, claiming his pacifist son died a foolish death believing in peace.

The war had nearly claimed lives of many Persiens in Qeran when the Imani family decided to move to their hometown, a province in the Southern mountains. Rashan refused to go with them and set off towards the West to Britannor. The disappointed look in his father's eyes and the distraught faces his family carried still haunted him greatly. But Rashan kept on believing, shrugging off the feelings of guilt from his nerves.

Brower eyed his young friend and stood up. "I have to return back to work. I will get back to you later."

Rashan whipped his head upward and gave another of his handsome smile. Brower grimaced.

That damned smile of his.

"Thank you, Brower. You are a good friend."

"Ah. Don't mention it. I'm doing this for Rasheed. Be thankful he is your brother"

"Of Course!"

"Well then," patting the Persien man shoulder, Brower turned to leave.

"Wait…About dinner…I insist you come. My Arsha makes the best Saffron Chicken" Rashan offered.

Brower faltered at his step.

"I will…think about it" He muttered then began to quicken his pace.

Rashan's smile widened. Rasheed wasn't joking when he said Brower had an intense love for chicken. He sprinted towards his older friend to catch up with him

"What do you want now?" Brower demanded, after finding Rashan walking beside him.

"I just want to stay at your workplace today. Render any assistance and learn some working experience"

Brower blankly stared at the man beside him. He couldn't believe he was in his thirties. He acted like a young child with boyish wonder.

Brower clicked his tongue with his teeth and shook his head, he walked ahead with Rashan trailing alongside him

It had gotten dark. Yet the evening has become busier than it was during the day. Customers began pouring into the bar, one at a time and also in troupes, to relax and drown away their weary self with strong drinks and lively talks.

"Imani!" Brower's deep vice bellowed out from the counter, causing the Persien man to turn abruptly.

"You should be heading home now, your wife must be waiting for you"

"Oh," Rashan replied. "You are right. It has gotten late." He turned to face the customers-or rather a customer who had caught his attention earlier. A very strange man who was holding a strange looking luggage and was mixing up unknown substances together. He had been compelled to approach this stranger to kill his curiosity, however he was cautious not to cause any trouble. He could tell they've made eye contact plenty of times and that alone was an awkward reason to approach the strange customer.

Rashan watched as the man glanced at his pocket watch and hastily sprung up from his seat and rushed out though the door.

'He seems to be in a hurry' He pondered.

A large hand slapped at his back and Rashan gave a short yelp and swung back in shock.

"Mr. Brower" He called out in shock.

"Look alive, Imani. This isn't the time to daydream" Brower said, handing the young man his coat. "You should get going now, the streets get dangerous at this time."

"Oh Okay" Rashan took his coat from the older man and put them on.

"I suggest you take Angeline's Street, it's the safest route to the train station. And there's a security post there."

Rashan gave him a grateful smile and nodded his head.

"Thank you for your assistance."

Brower dismissed his words with a wave of hand. "Don't mention it, Imani. You're a good man with a promising future, and I'd like to start a business with you. In the meantime, why don't you work for me – gain experience and all that. That will be your first step in becoming a successful business man."

Rashan grinned happily and bowed low. "I will never forget your kindness."

"Hurry along now, or your wife might start to worry"

Rashan thanked him once again and rushed out of the bar, carefully evading incoming customers. His excitement made him less aware of the people surrounding him as he hurried on to the Train Station to head home. He failed to notice a dark figure at a corner, who had been watching him intently. They picked up the luggage on the floor and hurried after Rashan.

Rashan's heart pounded in his chest as he quickened his pace, the sound of his own footsteps echoing in the empty streets. The darkness seemed to press in on him, suffocating him with its heavy silence. Every shadow seemed to hold a hidden threat, every eyes on the street glowing at him as if he were a prey.

He was sure he had taken the correct route as Brower had advised, Rashan wasn't expecting to pass through a dead and silent street.

He could feel the hairs on the back on his neck stand on end as he sensed a presence behind him, an unknown force that seemed to be drawing closer towards him with each passing moment.

Was he truly being followed? Why was he being followed? Who was this person? Or is this just his imagination?

Rashan gulped audibly. He shouldn't have stayed out this late in a strange city. He was sure Arsha would be very worried and will surely scold him for worrying her to death. He gave a wan smile as he remembered his wife. He didn't know why he was suddenly remembering her. Was it a mechanism to distract his fear or was this just his last memories flashing at his mind?

The last thought threw him in a state of panic as he suddenly turned back to check his stalker one last time.

There was no one there. Has the person gone? Or was he just imagining it the whole time?

Rashan didn't want to think further anymore. His mind was racing with fear and paranoia; He shook his head vigorously to dispel the thoughts that was starting to consume him.

He ignored the gloomy feeling and continued on, his pace quickened as he caught the sounds of the whistling of the train and the nearby voices ahead of him. He was nearing the Station.

The walkway was filled with the brightness of the street lamp post, chasing away the darkness from the dark alley and also from Rashan's dark heart.

He exhaled in relief and took a step forward when suddenly, a large hand reached out from the darkness and grabbed him, pulling him back with a strength that seemed inhuman.

Rashan gave a strangled cry as he struggled to pull away from his captor, his heart pounding in his chest.

But as he turned his face to meet his oppressor, he was met with a sight that chilled his bones.

"You- You are-" He stammered in shock.

The strange man placed a pale finger at his lip, hushing the frightened man.

Rashan couldn't believe his eyes. He gave a shaky breath as he watched the man put down his wooden luggage and bring out his pocket watch.

"Sorry for startling you, young man. I just needed some help getting around this district and you were the only one I found in this street"

Rashan was too stunned to speak. The unknown figure he had been terrified of minutes ago was the strange customer in Brower's bar.

Swallowing down his nerves, Rashan boldly asked, "How can I help you?"

The strange man gave a knowing smile at Rashan's words.

Who could have known Rashan would offered him help in a different yet unique way?