Hazael had been desperate to stay out of his house for as long as he could on days like this when the Council was in Israel. His father, Avriam, was a man who was not happy that the coveted role of Manheeg remained out of his reach, even as his influence within the city grew. It was no secret that he wanted those council seats for himself and his eldest son more than he wanted to breathe. It wasn’t something that was publicly addressed though as the Judean culture frowned upon those who wished to rise above their station in life. However, there was nothing stopping Hazael’s father from voicing his frustrations with the Azari family within the walls of his own household, where as far as he was concerned, he was king and none of the others he cared for would ever dare mention it to neighbors. It could sometimes be the only conversation within the home for days at a time, especially whenever it was Israel’s turn to host the council. His father could easily go on for hours, outlining the highly detailed plans he had for the family when that position would finally be theirs. All his children could do was smile and nod their heads, not daring to interrupt him.

It was a tough topic for Hazael to partake in. Truthfully, he did not care much for whether or not his family was a Manheeg or not. It wouldn’t affect his life one way or the other. However, all those detailed plans his father had for what role each family member would play had one hole in them: him. Hazael knew he was the pariah in his family. He did not have a clearly defined path in life like his brothers who were destined to be leaders, priests, and scholars. He was just there bumbling about like an idiot, only serving as a support to the others in his family. There was no place for him in his father’s plans other than for him to just do what he does best and just stay out of everyone else’s way.

This was a lesson Hazael had taken to heart a long time ago. Whenever the Manheeg council came to town, the young boy would find himself wandering the streets, trying to prolong his eventual return home, and the all too familiar sting of his father’s disappointment, for as long as he could. Luckily for him, the dogs provided an excellent excuse to stay away from the house as they, like all other dogs, needed to be walked every now and then.

So, in the evening, after the shop was closed and the rest of his family were home, as far as he knew, Hazael would collect some of the canines and wander the streets for a bit with no destination in mind. The light fall air was crisp and cool this evening, contrasting sharply to the summer heat they had been trapped in thus far. It was so refreshing, in fact that Hazael felt no need to rush home as the night began to fall and the streets began to empty. Truthfully, Hazael didn’t even really notice the passing time until the night had descended and he had found himself on the opposite side of town alone. A sense of dread crept up within in him as he realized how close he was to the Greek encampment, all on pure accident of course. After all, why would he wander so close willingly?

Almost right on cue, a chorus of drunken shouts rung out further up the street, clearly belonging to the Greeks as their love of the liquid was well known. Pulling his dogs along, Hazael hurried in the other direction in order to avoid these soldiers like the plague. After all, he was alone and Judean while they were Greek and drunk, who knows what would have happened.

Too bad though in his worry, he didn’t pay attention to where he was going and very quickly ran right into someone, sending him reeling back. A startled cry left his lips as he regained his footing. His eyes searched widely in the dark for whoever was there. He saw nothing, of course, his own blurred vision did nothing to help him when there was no light to see with.

“Hey! Who’s there?” He said into the darkness, fumbling for his dog’s leash, trying to keep the yapping dog under control.

He could only hope in that moment that it was a friendly face and not a Greek.