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Eight 5.40: Perspective - Athkala
🕑 Added 2025-08-03 15:56:15 +0000 UTCThe café was busier than usual, with orders piling up one after the other. Athkala glanced past the espresso machine refusing to work and saw the number of customers increasing. A crowd had even started to form outside.
So far, no one was angry. Most were paying attention to their phones, listening to the latest government report. There’d apparently been an overall decline in darklight levels over the past year by .008 percent. And more importantly…
“The Dread Terror Merohalein is no more,” another barista whispered in awe. His name was Belsa, a student at the same university as Athkala.
“Honored Albei’s land soldiers tracked the monstrous beast and found him already dead!” Belsa exclaimed.
He brought over his phone so that Athkala could see the headline for herself. She read how the forensic investigation had revealed that the colossal goose had had its brain scrambled without sign of how it was done. There’d also been a mysterious lack of remnant qi, with all the creature’s internal energy structures collapsed.
The authorities had worried an even more terrible creature was making its debut until they’d found a single boot print leaving the scene, almost as if it was a calling card.
“See, I told you there are still hunters traversing the wilds,” Belsa said, puffing up his chest like he’d been the one to kill the monster.
“Yes, yes,” Athaka replied, waving him off. “Your vaunted wild hunters do exist, but they’re not here to help us with the morning rush, are they? Now, which would you prefer? Fixing the espresso machine or waiting tables?”
Glancing between his two options, Belsa chose to stay with the machine. That way he could continue listening to the news. “Yuki?” he said into his phone.
It dinged to indicate it’d registered the keyword; the built-in assistant was ready to help him.
“How can I fix a G&P Black Iron Grand Espresso? It’s estimated to be three hundred years old, one of the first models produced in Honored Albei.”
Yuki’s chipper voice answered: “It’s astonishing that a GP Black Iron is still in working condition. You’ll likely need to call a professional, but let’s run a few tests in case it’s something you can fix yourself.”
Belsa nodded to his phone as if talking a real person. Athkala just shook her head at him, grabbed her pad, and headed out to take orders.
The café’s décor was cozy, leaning into a mishmash of eclectic furniture, brick walls, and that relic of an espresso machine. The nearby university meant all sorts of people stopped by—students, the neighborhood’s residents, and…
Athkala stopped at the sight of an older couple occupying a two-seater under the front window. She hadn’t noticed them coming in, and neither had the café’s dedicated waitress apparently. Their table was empty of hospitality, just the old wood surface burnished to warm brown from years of being wiped clean.
The whole room seemed to ignore the couple, but they didn’t seem to mind. They leaned toward each other, his hand reaching across the table to gently hold hers. It was like they were alone amid the café’s usual clatter and mutterings.
Athkala found herself walking over. As she did, she glanced toward Belsa to make sure he didn’t see her pulling out her own phone. She placed a fingertip against the sensor on the back and was relieved to see that she wasn’t being influenced. Her Status looked clear and normal. Tucking the phone back into her pocket, she greeted the customers. Everyone else in the café must simply have been distracted by the recent news.
The man had a slight smile on his face, his eyes amused by something. The woman opposite shook her head at him. “You’re incorrigible,” she whispered, then stood, patted Athkala on the shoulder, and walked out the door—the people in line naturally getting out of her way.
“Your friend won’t be staying?” Athkala asked.
“My wife,” he clarified, “and no—she has a few errands to run. We’re only in town for a short while, on the way to reunite with an old friend still some distance away.”
“We can pack your order to go if you’d like,” she offered.
“If you please, two coffees with cream and sugar. That’s all.”
“I’m sorry, our machine—” she started.
Belsa’s cheer of victory was heard from across the café.
“—appears to be working again,” she finished.
The gentleman’s smile broadened, and he gazed directly at Athkala for the first time. She noted how he looked like a favored uncle might—benevolent until it came time to play a prank. There was definitely a twinkle in his eyes that promised mischief.
“Let me get those coffees for you,” she said and hurried away.
She dropped off the order and took a few more in between until the drinks were ready. Belsa preened smugly as he handed her the coffees in their to-go containers.
Athkala felt herself centering before heading back to the old man’s table. It was like the moments before facing her aunts in the dueling ring.
As she placed the drinks down, he glanced at her hands. “Spear, knife, and mace? That’s an unusual combination. The mace, I mean. Not many people train in its use anymore.”
Athkala resisted the urge to clench her hands. The callouses were honorably earned, and so weren’t a source of shame, no matter what others might say.
“You can tell just from looking?” she asked.
“From the callouses, yes, and the way the knuckles have developed,” he replied.
“Are you… are you a fighter yourself?”
“Something like.” He grinned at her.
This strange man. She didn’t know why, but she grinned back, as if she’d been let in on the prank. There was something just so… so conspiratorial about him. It was infectious.
“You’re a student,” he said. “Do you enjoy it?”
“Mostly,” she said, shifting her weight into a more comfortable posture. “A proposal is due for my thesis, and the draft I’d written isn’t valid anymore.”
The man took a sip of coffee and gave it his consideration before nodding in approval. “Oh, that’s good. What happened to your thesis?”
“I’m a student of archeomagicolgy, and I was hoping to write about the ruins of an old silver-mining town called Gorwenta. There are stories in my family connecting us to the place. I thought it was a safe subject, which turned out to not be true at all. A paper just came out—a full study of the archeological layers going back five hundred years.”
Athkala tamped down the worry wanting to creep up into her. The timing was short, but she’d find something to study, she was sure of it. Her family had lived in the Albeityel area for dozens and dozens of generations. If need be, she’d go back to Voorheityel to follow up on more of the family’s rumors. There was that abandoned shrine west of the city, for example. She’d used to play in the ruined building as a child and swim in the nearby pool.
“I’ve been to Gorwenta,” the man said, “though it’s been many years.”
“You have?” she asked, surprised.
“Mmhmm. There was a fortress above the town, destroyed after some monsters attacked it.”
“That’s not in any of the records I’ve seen,” she said. “Are you sure someone wasn’t just telling you stories.”
“Perhaps,” he said. “It’s sometimes hard to tell where the truth starts and stops.”
“Especially about things so long ago,” she said, intending to be comforting.
“Maybe you should look into it,” the gentleman suggested.
“I don’t think so. I can’t exactly base my studies on a story told by someone I’ve just met by chance…”
“Oh, there’s no chance about it,” he said. “I’m checking on the descendants of friends and family—making sure they’re doing well in their lives.”
“And I’m supposed to be one?” Athkala said, taking a step away.
But the man just smiled. He placed his payment down on the table, picked up his coffees, and walked out after his wife, humming a tune as he went.
He’d seemed harmless at first—amusing even—but the turn in the conversation at the end… She’d make sure to carry her knives with her on the way to the university after her shift was done. Maybe bring the club too, just in case.
Her aunts were huge fans of “just in case.”
Athkala collected the taak and almost didn’t see the one coin that didn’t look like the others. On one side was the face of young man, on the other a young woman.
Her breath caught. The coin was clearly classical, from the Paramount Empire of Conjuncted Maltra. Her talents tingled, letting her know she was looking at an authentic piece. At a guess, it seemed to originate from just before the empire fell into a nasty series of civil wars that ended up dissolving it in its entirety. She held a priceless treasure in her hand, an heirloom at the least.
Athkala’s shock had only lasted a moment; there’d been another as she’d come to understand the coin’s provenance. She ran out into the street to call after the gentleman. There were no alleys nearby. He should’ve still been visible, but he was nowhere in sight.
Gripping the coin, she realized there was no way to return it to him.
She would have time, she thought, to show it her professors. It might be enough perhaps to convince them of a new proposal.
A fortress above the ruins of Gorwenta. Could such a thing truly have once existed?
###
Athkala never saw the elderly couple watching over her from the adjacent rooftop.
“Satisfied?” the woman asked.
His answer as always was a smile and a kiss.
Fini
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Author's Note: And so ends book 5. I hope you enjoyed the story.
I can tell already it's going to require a lot of editing, but that's what the writing is. 😂
Please stay tuned for an important announcement publishing shortly.
Comments
Morog T Tiny
It is too bad. I would support a book six of eights story. ;-)
3seed
You're very welcome. Thank you for choosing to spend time with him and all the other members of his family. :)
Chaz Baz
It ended well.yet sadness that it's over. This you I have enjoyed my journey I the life of Eight.
