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- Thirty Days - There was once a man whom I recall with great detail, great fondness... as well as great remorse. He had a powerful love for knowledge and pride in his work that was scarcely seen in the kingdoms. The old man held a grand reputation for being able to solve any puzzle, riddle, or troubling circumstance that had ever come his way... or so he thought. With a grand reputation comes a grand opportunity and fierce challenges ahead. It was one fateful day that he was presented with the most unusual puzzle he had ever come to face. A riddle. A young merchant with a crafty slick smile and a silver-tongue came to his door armed with a curious little box in which within was a riddle he declared that the man could not solve within the month. Though the old man accepted the challenge, the young merchant still would not hand over the box without a fee. "Well, how do you expect me to solve something I do not possess?" The old man frowned while giving the youth a disconcerting look. "Haha, that is rather troubling isn't it? How do we solve such a puzzle?" Silver-tongued merchant replied with a silent laughter dancing in his eyes at his own self-imposed pun. The old man rubbed his beared and made a gruff sound before giving the merchant a small bag of gold in return for the box. "Best not be a fake..." He grumbled softly to himself as the merchant tipped his hat and made off counting the coins. Running his fingers over the box, he opened it and took the small scrap of paper out. In which a riddle was written across. --,What matters most, yet now matters least? Those forgotten 'til deceased. ...or even then? The riddle was short and vague, and immediately thought to be just meaningless scribble written to gain his gold. That is... until the young merchant paid a visit the day after, and everyday since then asking if the old man had solved it yet. With each day the that the young man came to his door, he became more and more irked as to what it could possibly be. It prompted the old man into solving what he thought before to be a fake. Two weeks passed and every answer the old man gave was met with a small, but almost sad smile from the young merchant as he shook his head "No". The third week the man became desperate and began to ask his peers, buried himself in the libraries, and even began to make his way questioning those in the streets. "Having a lot of trouble, aren't you?" The merchant had come to his door once again right on schedule. He wore a disappointed expression while watching the now disheveled eldery man mull over the riddle. It was not long before the thirty days were up and the old man still had no answer for the young merchant. He handed the box back with a defeated and tired look. The merchant hung his head with a sad expression, and wore not even a speck of pride for having beaten such a renowned person at what he did best. As the young man turned to leave, the old man parted his lips with a cracked voice. "...What..." The merchant paused in his steps to listen. "What was the answer...?" He smiled to the old man and gestured him to follow. They walked along an old path towards the outskirts of town where a small dimly-lit hut resided over a hill. The old man's eyes watered at the sight within, he was met with a woman's face that he had long since forgotten beneath all of his obsession and work. "The answer was... us, Father." The young merchant stood by his mother's side as he spoke. Shock and realization both dawned upon the old man as he stared stupidly ahead. His eyes softed and he wept with a torn, but joyful smile. That riddle... it all made sense now. Seiru | |