Glade 117
Garr sat quietly in the corner of the room, his gaze fixed on the flickering candles that illuminated the faces of the men gathered around the large, oak table. The room was heavy with the smell of smoke and booze, and the sound of hushed voices filled the air.
His father, a stern and imposing man with sharp features and piercing eyes, sat at the head of the table, his voice carrying over the others as he spoke.
"Gentlemen, the quality of our slaves has been in decline for some time now," he said, his brow furrowed with concern. "We need to find a way to improve it, or our profits will suffer."
The other men around the table nodded in agreement, their expressions grave.
"I agree," said one man, a portly, balding figure with a bulbous nose. "But how do we improve the quality of the slaves we acquire?"
As the men talked, Garr's mind wandered. He had heard his father talk about these things before, but it all seemed so distant and unimportant to him. He couldn't help but feel a sense of disgust at the idea of trading human beings like commodities, even if it was the family business. He glanced around the room, taking in the opulent furnishings and decor. Everything was so polished and refined, so different from the world outside. Garr knew that his family's wealth and success came at a great cost, but he didn't know what to do about it. As the discussion wore on, Garr's attention drifted further and further away. He couldn't help but think about his own dreams and aspirations - to create something beautiful and meaningful, to make a difference in the world. But how could he do that when he was tied to a business that he didn't believe in?
As the hours dragged on, Garr's attention began to wander. He found himself staring out the window, watching the wind rustle the clothes of the passersby. He wondered what it would be like to be free, to be able to do whatever he wanted without being beholden to anyone.
Suddenly, his father's voice broke through his reverie. "Garr, what do you think?"
Garr jumped, startled. "What do I think about what?"
His father scowled. "About what we've been discussing. About the quality of the slaves we acquire."
Garr's mind raced as he tried to think of something to say. "I...I don't know," he stammered. "I guess I never really thought about it."
His father's scowl deepened. "Well, you should. This is our business, our livelihood. It's important that you understand it."
Garr nodded obediently, but inside, he felt a growing sense of unease. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something fundamentally wrong with the whole enterprise of slavery. But he didn't know how to articulate it, and he didn't dare voice his doubts in front of his father and his peers.
As the meeting wore on, Garr's mind began to wander again. He thought about his mother and whether or not she approved of this kind of stuff. Garr's father rose from his chair. "Gentlemen, I think we've covered everything we need to for today," he said, his tone brisk. "Let's reconvene next week and see if we've made any progress."
The other men nodded and began to file out of the room, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries. Garr lingered in the corner, watching as they left, until only his father remained. His father turned to him, his expression unreadable. "Garr, I don't want to hear any more of this nonsense about being 'uninterested' in our business," he said sternly. "This is your legacy, your birthright. You need to take it seriously."
Garr shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of his father's words. He had grown up in a family where the business was everything, but he had never felt the same passion for it as his father and brothers. "I know, Father," Garr said quietly. "But I just don't feel like this is where I belong. I want to find my own path."
His father's face hardened. "Your own path? What kind of nonsense is that? You have a duty to this family, to carry on our legacy. You can't just throw that away because you feel like it."
Garr felt a surge of frustration. Why couldn't his father understand that he didn't want to be tied down to a life he didn't love? "I'm not throwing anything away, Father. I just want to find a way to be true to myself."
His father's eyes narrowed. "You have a responsibility to this family, Garr. Don't forget that. If you can't take this seriously, then maybe it's time for you to leave."
Garr felt his heart sink. He had always known that his father was a proud and stubborn man, but he had hoped that he would at least try to understand. Now, it seemed like there was no way to bridge the gap between them. He sighed before turning and leaving the room. As he walked away, he knew that he would have to make some tough decisions about his future - decisions that could change the course of his life forever.
Garr wished he could have just walked off into the city and started a new life, but he didn't have the guts to do it. So, he decided to sulk around for a few hours in his room. He glanced over at the chest at the foot of his bed - it was a family heirloom that had been passed down for generations. Garr had always found it to be a good outlet for his frustrations - he would pound on it with his fists or kick it when he was feeling angry or upset. With a sigh, he stood up and made his way over to the chest, starting to take out his frustrations on it once again. He hit it harder and harder, his breath coming in short, angry gasps. It was a small release, but it felt good to let out some of his pent-up emotions. Eventually, Garr reluctantly went to his lessons. His father had arranged for him to learn a bit of math so that he could understand how business worked.
Garr trudged through the city streets, lost in thought. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was letting his family down, but at the same time, he knew he couldn't force himself to be something he wasn't. As he approached the building where his math lessons were held, he took a deep breath and tried to clear his mind. He was determined to make the most of this opportunity, even if he didn't feel passionate about it.
Inside, he found his tutor waiting for him. The older man greeted him warmly and led him to a small room with a desk and a chalkboard.
"Today, we'll be focusing on basic algebra," the tutor said, pulling out a thick textbook. "Do you remember anything from our last lesson?"
Garr shook his head, feeling a sense of embarrassment. He had never been very good at math, and he found it hard to concentrate when his mind was so preoccupied. The teacher signed then gave Garr several pages of problems to do. They were simple addition, subtraction and multiplication problems intended to make him faster.
Garr took the pages of problems from his tutor, feeling a sense of determination. He knew that he wasn't particularly fast at math, but he was willing to put in the work to improve. He settled down at the desk and began working his way through the problems, starting with the simpler addition and subtraction ones. As he worked through the problems, Garr's mind wandered, thinking about the future and what it held for him. Would he always be stuck in this life, or was there a way out? He didn't know the answer, but he knew he had to keep trying, keep working, and keep searching for a way to make a better life for himself.
His teacher noticed he was slacking so he smacked the desk to jolt Garr out of his thoughts. After that, Garr began to get into a rhythm, his mind focusing on the numbers and the process of solving each equation. After a while, he moved on to the multiplication problems, which were a bit more challenging. But he persevered, using the techniques his tutor had taught him and taking his time to make sure he got each answer right. As he finished the last problem and checked his work, Garr felt a sense of satisfaction. He had done it - he had completed the page of problems and improved his speed in the process.
He handed the papers back to his tutor, who looked impressed. "You're improving, Garr," the older man said. "With a bit more practice, you'll be able to handle more complex equations." Garr felt a sense of pride at the compliment. Maybe he wasn't passionate about math, but he was willing to work hard and improve. And who knew - maybe he would discover a love for numbers that he hadn't known was there.
