The Weight of Guilt and Sin

"Master Kharvenion!" he gasped as he jumped, trying to rise.

"It's alright, don't get up," the head gardener told them both, "I don't stand on ceremony when we are at work."

The young man remained uncomfortable, while the girl continued with her task, then he reached forward to pull another weed from beneath a rose bush.

It was little more than a dull green shoot with heavy leaves that looked chewed and bedraggled.

"One moment," Kharvenion said urgently, stopping the boy's fingers before they closed around the offending plant. "That is Serin's Gold, a wild flower for sure, but uncommonly rare. It is said that it came over from Atlantis with the survivors, but I believed that they had all died out.

"It is a weak little thing, but blossoms most beautifully for only a few days a year. Technically it is a weed, but I think we should make an exception for it. What is your name boy?"

The young man squinted up, "Pandrid, sir."

"Well then Pandrid on top of your other duties I am assigning you a knew one. As gardeners it is our duty to tend the gardens, to look after all that dwell there, make sure that all the plants thrive and flourish. It is also for us to recognise all the things that grow there, even the unwanted visitors.

"But we should also be aware of the potential of everything, and once in a while, when something is weak and seemingly pointless, we must realise that it needs only to be encouraged and cared for in order to make it's true beauty become apparent." For a few seconds it seemed to Pandrid that the old man was no longer looking at him, or even referring to the plant, instead his eyes were falling on the palace itself, but suddenly the grey pupils were back upon him, and whatever else he may have been thinking about, was nothing to do with the land or gardens and a matter for idle speculation in only the most curious of souls.