"A Stranger is an Enemy" by Arealius the Sailor

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Please note that the Gorean Saga is a fictional series, and its world,
customs, and values may not align with modern societal standards or moral principles.

Gor is Copyrighted by John Norman

   

 

8th day of the 9th month, Year 10,175 Contasta Ar

City of Teslit

Ah, the vagaries of fate, and the follies of an old scribe's enthusiasm. I, Arealius, Historian-Cartographer of Port Olni, have found myself in a bit of a pickle today. My years may be creeping up on me, but my spirit remains unbroken, even if my joints do protest with each passing morning.

As I strolled through the streets of Teslit, I introduced myself to three citizens, proclaiming my title and purpose with all the aplomb of a much younger man. Ah, the folly of youth, or in my case, the folly of age. I sought to meet with the city scribes, to discuss the possibility of chronicling the thoughts and tales of Teslit's esteemed residents. A noble pursuit, if I do say so myself.

But, alas, not everyone shared my enthusiasm. The city slaver, a gruff and menacing figure, took umbrage with my presence. His eyes narrowed, and he seemed to take my measure, his stance growing more aggressive, as if he sought to intimidate me. Ah, the perils of the profession! I stood firm, though I confess, my heart quickened, and my old legs trembled beneath me. The air was thick with tension, and I was grateful that neither of us succumbed to the temptation of steel.

I soon realized that his ire was not merely directed at me, but at Port Olni itself. He spat the city's name, as if it were a curse, and I sensed that I was but a proxy, a poor substitute for the Ubar of Port Olni himself, who seemed the true object of the slaver's hatred. I felt a shiver run down my spine, for I knew that I was not the one he truly sought to harm.

Two Teslit warriors, stationed nearby, seemed to take notice of the developing situation. They approached, their eyes fixed on the slaver, and I sensed a glint of approval, as if they appreciated the spectacle unfolding before them. A cute slave girl, no more than a child, emerged from the inn, bearing a tray of refreshments, her eyes wide with curiosity, as if she, too, sensed the excitement of the moment.

The city lady physician appeared, chiding me for my ignorance of local customs and laws. Ah, the sting of her words! I, a scribe of Port Olni, not versed in the intricacies of Teslit's governance? It seems my years of study and experience had not prepared me for this. I felt an old man, indeed.

Just as I thought the ordeal could not get worse, a lady scribe appeared, her demeanor stern, yet with an air of superiority. Ah, I thought, finally, a member of the scribes, come to offer me solace and understanding. Alas, I was mistaken. She lectured me on my failure to familiarize myself with the local laws upon arrival at the city's docks, her words dripping with disdain. She, too, joined in criticizing my arrogance in announcing my caste duties and homestone, as if I had committed some grave offense.

And then, the coup de grâce! She proceeded to regale me with tales of her own family's illustrious lineage and pedigree, her voice filled with pride and self-importance. Ah, the hauteur of the Teslit scribes! I was left wondering if there was any room for a humble scribe from Port Olni in this city, where pride and prestige seemed to outweigh all else.

As her words flowed, I knew it was time to take my leave, to beat a hasty retreat, lest I find myself in even greater trouble. I began to back away, my eyes fixed on the small cluster of Teslit citizens, who seemed to be enjoying their wine and other treats, dutifully delivered to them by the sweet slave girl, who, I was certain, had just saved my humble life.

I turned, and with as much dignity as I could muster, I made my way back to the docks, my pace quickening, but not quite running, for I knew that would only invite pursuit. I reached the vessel that had delivered me to this inhospitable shore not two Ahn before, and I hastened aboard, grateful to be leaving the city of Teslit behind.

May may my folly serve as a caution to future travelers and scholars.

Scribe Arealius
Historian-Cartographer, Port Olni

Editor's Note: 

The concept of "A Stranger is your enemy" in the Gorean Saga is rooted in the planet Gor's harsh, survival-of-the-fittest world. This mindset is reflected in the Gorean language, where the word for "stranger" and "enemy" is the same .

In Gorean society, trust is earned through demonstrated strength, loyalty, or value. Strangers are viewed with suspicion or hostility until they prove themselves worthy. This stance is tied to the importance of caste, city-state loyalty, and self-reliance in Gorean culture .

Some key sources supporting this concept include :

Outlaws of Gor (page 49) - "Indeed, in Gorean the same word is used for both stranger and enemy."
Gorean Shores - "In Gorean, the word for Stranger is the same as for Enemy."
Psyche's Gorean Archives - discusses the Gorean world and its societal norms

These sources provide insight into the Gorean world and its unique cultural norms.

In the Gorean Saga, cartographers are actually considered part of the Scribe caste, wearing blue robes, and are not typically viewed as criminals. They're responsible for mapping Gor, keeping records, and serving as clerks, lawyers, and accountants .

On the other hand, assassins, members of the Black Caste, are often hired for their services, and while not universally accepted, they're tolerated in many Gorean cities. They're seen as professionals, feared and respected for their skills. However, their presence is often met with suspicion, and they're outlawed in some cities, like Ar, due to past conflicts .

This contrast highlights the complex social hierarchy of Gor, where different castes and professions hold varying levels of prestige and acceptance.