Progress.

The helper sat across the annalist under the bright sun of noon. A quiet wind flowed, wafting the parchment which lay on the annalist's lap. The wind carried lime and sand from the nearby construction site.

Workers were diligently working to finish a four storey house. The building was going to be a home to help people like the helper, Damian.

Damian had no home. Now, he might.

The annalist's case was different, however. He lived in the northern annex of the Celestial Castle.

Boren the Annalist, Master Historian, Master Archivist, Boren the Knowing; he came by many names but each referred to only one man.

"What are you recording now, Master Historian?" Damian asked.

He could see symbols and letters on the fluttering parchment but couldn't understand them. He had never been taught to read or write. His parents themselves were mere labourers, working petty jobs to fill their stomachs. As a helper in the Western wing of the Celestial Castle, Damian had already surpassed his parent's achievements.

The Annalist didn't reply but gazed at the building, his face emotionless. Damian wondered what stories might be unfolding behind the veil of the archivist's mind.

But that emotionless face slowly contorted. Eyes filled and glistened. But just before the first tear could form and drop out of his eyes to mar the parchment, Boren blinked it away.

"What is it, Master Historian?" Damian, who had noticed everything, asked. Concern flowed not just in his words but also his eyes and his slow, gentle movements.

"In the reign of the previous king, such construction would never have happened." Boren whispered, making Damian wonder if the annalist was answering him. "King Hored was concerned, mostly, with his own pleasure."

True, or at least that's what everyone said about the former King Herod. His entire family in fact, they said, had been concerned with personal pleasures. The empire was in ruins and Herod held banquets every day.

"And what then? King and his wife, then considered childless, go on a voyage eleven years ago and never return. And when we find their heir... no one needs mention what happened, right?" Boren had turned towards Damian now.

One of the reasons people confided their feelings in the annalist was his unparalleled compassion towards every section of the society. He considered them all as his equal.

"We don't need to say that, indeed, Master Historian. It's very sad." Damian sighed.

Silence followed. The wind tried to pierce it but couldn't. So did the workers but even they failed. So did the playing children but they too had been muted.

"Four years later, a girl is seen in the Eastern Wing of the Rising Sun of this Celestial Castle, playing with the then, Royality Mart, brother to Herod. The helpers don't recognise her and wonder. The birds don't recognise her and chirp. The sun doesn't know her and keeps her in shade." He paused to catch his breath. "And she isn't seen again."

Damian knew this story but he had never heard it from such a commendable source. Damian heard only rumours. In his place, you only get to hear what flows in the wind. And often, the wind carries mud, just like now.

"Two years after this, she surfaces again but is hidden again. And so transpires the next year. The sun doesn't shine on her. The helpers notice the kid growing but they don't see her. Next year, Royality Mart brings her out of the castle. He introduces to the Kingdom." Boren broadened his shoulders. ""This is Laura Salvadian, the last of my brother, Herod Salvadian's bloodline." The Kingdom welcomed her while some doubted the integrity of Royality Mart himself. They wondered if Mart had kept this heir hidden from the world. But there were worse ailments in play." Boren looked at Damian. "You see, helper? The girl knew nothing. She was eight years old and knew nothing of the world. She only knew her room in the castle and she knew how to run, eat, drink and sleep. Is that enough to live by? In the Celestial Castle, the summit of civilisation, yes but among us? Is it adequate?"

Damian knew the answer but he said nothing.

"So, she comes and runs around. And she gets tired. And she eats a berry. And she dies in three minutes." Boren concluded.

Damian gazed at him. Boren had said that which Damian didn't want to hear.

"We failed to keep her safe, helper. From this world. And from not just this world." Boren muttered with his head down.

"What do you mean, "not just this world"?" Damian asked, quite incredulously. But Boren only shook his head.

"With the royal bloodline drawing to a close, Royality Mart became the new King. King Martin." Boren said. "And he began this construction."

"He did!" Damian exclaimed, glad to have found something else to talk about. "I am glad we had King Martin with us. Who knows how our land would've fared bereft of him. Someone could've attacked and we could all be their slaves now. But now, look at this building! We are progressing!" Damian had heard this word "progress", only two days back.

He quietly puffed with pride for having successfully changed the topic and used the word he wanted to.

Boren looked at him, wondering.

"What does it take to build a house, helper? Does one need human bones?" Boren asked.

Damian tried to remember what he had seen and what his father had taught him. "We need sand and clay and cement and water... I don't think bones are required, Master Historian." Damian looked confused. "You didn't know, Master Historian?"

Boren didn't answer.

Instead, he picked his scribber again and started making new symbols and letters on his parchment.

"What are you recording now, Master Historian?"

"You."