"There is one truth in this world: All men are not born equal.
Try as we might, equality is a Lie.
Some people are born with intellect. Some are born with great physical prowess. Then there are those people from Celeste, those damn celestials and their nobles; they are born with wealth.
Being born makes them divine, chosen by god. To them, we lesser beings are cattle they slaughter when hungry; anything they desire is theirs.
And what about me?
I was born with nothing.
I am worth nothing.
I am nothing.
Just a speck of dust in the endless hell hole called Sethfar."
"Remy! Remy, wake up!"
A weary, feminine voice echoed through the frail building.
Calling it a house was generous; it was falling apart, rotting in corners, the damp stench of moss and mould woven into every plank.
"You said I should wake you up, remember." She spoke, clanking her pots together, and the metallic sound echoed like a bell.
"Ahhhhhhh…. Damn it, Damn it's morning already." Remy huffed, sitting up on his bed."And I had the most wonderful dream of all, that meat that the nobles left out was so great I can still picture it now." He thought to himself, his stomach rumbling.
He hadn't eaten a proper meal in days now."Yeah, I should get up, it's payday today," He sat in his bed for a minute, stretching his hands.
"Remy!!!!" the voice echoed again."Yes, Mother, I'm getting up," replied Remy.
He was a sixteen-year-old boy with soft, rosy cheeks and long, roughly cut hair that was tied back as he slept.
He was slight, almost fragile-looking, but years of hard labour had carved surprising strength into his small frame.
Being born with nothing noteworthy to his name, he worked as a "Drawer", the people from Celeste would task him with anything they needed done, then they would pay him whatever they felt, sometimes nothing at all.
Though he had neither gold nor silver, he had his looks, which rivalled even the nobles, though it mattered little in a world built on power, not beauty.
His morning routine was unchanging: splash cold water on his face, chew the hardened crust leftover from cooking rye the previous week, then head to the Middle Realm—Sair—to tend the fields that fed the Celestials.
"Don't forget your mask," his mother called, handing him the itchy straw covering. Though uncomfortable, he had no choice.
The fields he was working on were poisoned; if he didn't wear them, he would die.
"Oho, kkykgy... Don't worry, Remy. Just a few more weeks and we'll be free from all the debt. A new dawn will shine upon us—you'll see." The woman coughed, patting Remy on his back.
Remy had heard those words before. All his life, in fact.
"A new dawn will shine upon us...Ha!" he repeated, looking up.