The Lords Calling

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An unexpected visit

With the setting sun, the pressing heat that had been smothering Reyvadh finally withdrew and allowed its inhabitants some breathing room again. Mesem pulled cloth covering from the window and removed the leather awning to allow in the cooling air as he did he noted the sand that had piled up and retrieved a brush to remove it. His peers were often complaining that they were getting too old to continue doing chores like this for their families, but Mesem did not mind doing them. He loved his mother and any work he could do to lessen the burden of keeping a full house stocked and running in a large city like Reyvadh was well worth the hassle. Plus he no longer was in his teens where he would have rebelled just for the sake feeling out the limits of his freedoms.
After he had finished cleaning the sill, he placed back the lighter cloth, which would still allow air to pass through the window. Finally, he took of the lightveil that had been tied over his eyes and studied his eyes in the polished metal mirror. His family was wealthier than most. From the reflective metal a young man in his early twenties looked back with those deep green eyes that he had inherited from his mothers side. He briefly wondered if any of his friends had similar coloured eyes. Then he heard a shout coming from the house, calling him to dinner.
His father and mother as well as his younger sister were all already seated when he had arrived and his mother had begun to mix through the grilled rice and his father was cutting up the meat they could afford to serve with it. "Did you open the windows?", his mother asked before he had even sat down, "We need to cool down the house more before next sunrise." "Already done, mother", he replied, while grabbing rice from the communal bowl and placing it in his own. After his father had distributed the meat, they began to eat and for a while the room was filled with gluttonous silence. Mesem looked over to his sister who seemed cross about something. Aria was fourteen and had inherited her fathers eyes and temper, which had blossomed into a fiery snark with the last few years.
When they had sated their initial hunger, his father spoke with the raspy voice that came from working as a merchant on the square. "How is your training progressing, Mesem? Do you think you will be able to take your test this summer?" Mesem tensed up and he realised that he had been too transparent, because his mother piped up. "You need to work harder at it, Mesem. You are alreay twenty years old and we need to hurry to still find a desirable match. If you dont succeed this year, we may need to consider wedding you outside the guild network, as much as we want to avoid this possibility."
Mesem had to force down a spike of anger at the veiled threat. It was true that he was behind in where his parents would have liked him to be. But not because of a lack of effort on his part. He loved jewelry work, which was the profession he had been chosen for, and his master seemed to think him talented too. But finishing his apprenticeship meant being wed to a woman and a new chapter in his life he felt entirely unready for. And so he had not given his all in the last two tests and been denied progress.
The worst part about the situation however was not the pressure, but the fact that he understood where his parents were coming from. His father had become a full merchant later than most and now that his first son was of age already felt the gnawing tooth of time in his bones. Understanding his fathers urgency did not help at all, Mesem decided. Fortunately, he was spared a continuation of this conversation, when a knocking came from the front door.
Glancing around the table before covering his eyes with the Lightveil, he gathered none of the others were expecting visitors either. He rose and his father followed, so they could greet the visitors before getting his mother and sister if necessary. Approaching the door he considered the oddness of such a late visit.
With a creak the front door swung open and Mesem looked into uncovered eyes, causing him to almost recoil from shock. He caught himself in time though and uttered the expected greeting along with a deep bow: "Greetings my High Lord Eran!" Before him stood the most powerful man in Reyvadh and the surrounding dunes. Eran was a man of powerful built, years of military training chiseling a strong physique. Even if the lord was not standing there with his greyish eyes exposed for all to see, Mesem would have thought him a nobleman. Behind the High Lord stood a contingent of seven guards, each with an appropriate metal mask over their eyes, a thin slit allowing light to them.
Lord Eran did not wait for Mesem to continue and simply began speaking in a grave tone. "Your Lord is calling to War. We will leave Reyvadh in three days time." Mesems stomach dropped and he grabbed the doorframe for support. His father behind him spoke up, a tinge of unease barely audible in a sea of regret. "What is the cause, my Lord?".
Eran seemed indignant at the request, but he heeded the law and answered quickly. "The city of Aldab has rebelled. We will reconquer it to keep the peace." Behind him Mesem heard a gasp. He turned to see his mother standing there. Her hands were covering her face. Then as the realisation seemed to hit her, she began wailing loudly, turned and ran from the entryway. Mesem wanted to follow but forced himself to turn back to their liege so to not insult him. With some effort he uttered the words he was taught: "I pledge myself to the Lords Calling, of free will and in the face of the dune sea. I will join this campaign for my household and not desert it even in the face of death to ensure the survival of this great city."
Satisfied, the High Lord nodded. "I thank you, citizen." He turned to leave, then briefly halted. "I am sorry, boy. Tell your mother that there was no other way." For the first time Mesem thought to see a human element to what constituted the High Lords being. Before another exchange of words could happen, the High Lord had turned away fully and marched his guards down the street, where he knocked on the next door. Mesem closed the door and turned to his father, who was removing his lighveil already. "I-", he hesitated and then took Mesems shoulders. The now exposed eyes were moist with too much water. "I will see to your mother." Only now Mesem realised he could still hear crying from the other room.
Her mother had lost all three brothers during the last campaign. His father added, "I am proud of you son. No matter what may happen or if you are a Jeweler. Never forget it." Then he let go of Mesem and moved towards the sounds of crying in the other room. When he was gone, Mesem sank to the floor, his back to the wall. He heard the door open again and saw Aria, who for the first time in a while did not show any signs of snark or sarcasm. His sister sat down next to him and while she did not speak a word, the two understood.
Mesems head began emptying as he tried to sort through the onslaught of new information, sensations and feelings. In the end only two things remained. The sound of his mothers crying through the wall and the wish the sun had stayed so his hands would stop shaking from what was surely the nights cold.

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Context on the Lords Calling, a Jadiran tradition.

In Jadiran culture the Lords decision on their oasis is paramount. They dictate most rules of the oasis so that survival in the harsh desert sun is possible. As a result, they also have the sole power to decide on matters of war for all their citizens.
In response to this imbalance of power, a tradition developed. The Lord who declares war, must visit each household in the oasis personally, to deliver the call to arms. During this Calling, the Lord must inform the household of reasons, if they ask. Each household must contribute one able-bodied fighting man to the war cause. If none volunteer to do so, the family faces exile from the oasis, a death sentence to almost all.