Rebel's Resurgence

Aram was a peasant from an early age. His father was a farmer who worked on the lands of a landlord and his mother was a housewife. Aram had a younger brother, Khory, who was two years younger than him. His parents always wanted the best for their sons.

One day, when he was ten years old, his parents took him and his brother to visit the market at the town gate. At the market, they bought Khory some sweets while Aram got himself a soft apple. As they were walking back home, enjoying their fruits, they saw an old man in ragged clothes on the side of the road. The old man didn't have any food or water with him so Aram's parents gave him half of their apples and told them to run as fast as possible as they didn't want to stay there longer than necessary because they didn't want trouble with the palace guards.

On their way home, Khory looked back at the old man and asked: "Why did you give that old man our apples?"

Aram replied: "He looked hungry."

Khory said: "But what if he attacks us? You've seen how dirty he is! I'm sure he has lice!"

Aram replied: "I think he's tired and hungry. He wouldn't hurt us."

Khory said: "How do you know? Are you a prophet?"

Aram replied: "No, but..."

It was wintertime when Khory caught pneumonia. Their parents didn't have enough money to buy medicine for Khory so one morning they found his body cold next to them. They cried for days and buried their son next to their house under a willow tree which grew there since Aram was born.

Four years later, Aram's father went to work on the landlord's fields like every day but this time there were no other peasants around working. The landlord had arrived with his soldiers and told them that from now on all the fruits from his farm would go straight to the palace in Nabat instead of being sold in the market at the town gate. He also made it clear that if anyone doesn't follow these new rules, they will be hanged by their feet until death.

Aram's heart sank as he listened to the landlord's announcement. The new decree meant that his family would lose their only source of income. They wouldn't be able to afford food, let alone medicine if someone fell ill again. Fear and desperation hung heavy in the air, and Aram could see the worry etched on the faces of the other peasants.

As days turned into weeks, Aram watched as the once vibrant marketplace at the town gate transformed into a desolate place. People had no choice but to wander off in search of work and sustenance elsewhere. The streets became eerily quiet, and the winds whispered tales of hunger and despair.

Aram couldn't bear to see his parents struggle anymore. Determined to find a solution, he decided to venture to the capital city of Nabat to seek aid and plead for his family's livelihood. With a heavy heart, he kissed his mother's cheek, promising her that he would return with help.

Traveling was not an easy feat for a simple peasant like Aram, but he was driven by his love for his remaining family. He walked for days, his weary feet carrying him through rugged terrains and biting cold. Along the way, he relied on the kindness of strangers, who offered a warm meal or a place to rest for the night. These small acts of compassion reminded Aram that goodness still existed in the world, that there were people who understood the struggles of the vulnerable.

Finally, after a long journey, Aram arrived at the towering gates of Nabat. The grandeur of the city overwhelmed him, the palace standing tall and proud, seemingly untouchable by the hardships faced by the common folk. With trembling hands, he approached the guards and pleaded for an audience with the king.

The guards sneered at the sight of a ragged peasant standing before them. They laughed and mocked his audacity to ask for an audience, letting their power go to their heads. But Aram refused to be deterred. With a glimmer of hope in his eyes, he repeated his plea, his voice unwavering.

Days turned into weeks as Aram persistently waited outside the palace gates, the cold seeping into his bones. He endured the scornful looks of the guards and the whispers of the passersby. He clung to the belief that his determination would pay off, that someone would hear his desperate plea.

And so it did. One afternoon, as Aram huddled in a corner, shivering from both cold and exhaustion, a kind-faced man approached him. He wore clothes that spoke of wealth and privilege, yet there was a warmth in his eyes that hinted at empathy.

"Boy, what brings you to the palace gates?" the man asked, his voice gentle yet authoritative.

Aram scrambled to his feet, his eyes wide with raw emotion. "Sir, I seek an audience with the king. My family and I have fallen on hard times, and we desperately need his help."

The man scrutinized Aram for a moment, his brows furrowed in contemplation. Finally, he nodded and beckoned for Aram to follow him.

Inside the palace, Aram was overwhelmed by opulence. Marble floors gleamed beneath his worn-out shoes, intricate tapestries adorned the walls, and chandeliers bathed the halls in golden light. The man led him through winding corridors until they reached a grand chamber, where a figure sat on a golden throne.

Aram's heart raced as he locked eyes with the king, his stomach twisting with nerves. He cleared his throat and stepped forward, his voice steady but fueled by desperation. "Your Majesty, I stand before you as a humble peasant. My family has lost our only source of income, and we can no longer afford to feed ourselves. I implore you to show us mercy and provide us with a means to survive."

The king regarded Aram with a mix of curiosity and sympathy. He had heard whisperings of the hardships faced by the commoners, but this was the first time someone had come directly to him, with nothing to lose and everything to gain.

"Tell me, young Aram," the king spoke, his voice resonating with compassion, "what would you do if I were to grant you aid? How would you ensure that others in your village don't suffer the same fate?"

Aram took a deep breath, his mind racing for an answer that would satisfy the king's concerns. "Your Majesty, I have seen firsthand the struggles of my people. With your help, I would establish a cooperative where the villagers can work together to cultivate the land that was once owned by the landlord. By pooling our resources and knowledge, we can ensure that everyone has enough to eat and that no one is left behind."

The king leaned back in his throne, his gaze fixed on Aram. For a long moment, silence filled the chamber, pregnant with anticipation. Then, a smile tugged at the corner of the king's lips.

"You have a noble heart, Aram," the king said, his voice filled with admiration. "Your determination and empathy are qualities that should be celebrated. I shall grant you the aid you seek, but remember, the true measure of a ruler lies not in power and wealth, but in their ability to uplift the lives of their people."

Overwhelmed with gratitude, Aram bowed deeply before the king. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized that his family would no longer face a life of despair. He would return to his village, armed with renewed hope and a sense of purpose, ready to build a better future for all who suffered under the weight of poverty.

And so, with the king's blessing, Aram embarked on a new chapter of his life. He rallied the villagers, inspiring them with stories of compassion and unity. Together, they broke free from the chains of oppression, their cooperative thriving and becoming a symbol of resilience. The once desolate marketplace at the town gate flourished once more, brimming with life and laughter.

Aram's journey, from a simple peasant to an agent of change, taught him that the true strength of a community lies in their collective spirit. And he would forever owe his success to the spark of kindness he had shown on that fateful day, when he shared half an apple with a hungry old man.