IrateRapScallion
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Chapter 51
🕑 Added 2018-11-21 02:40:48 +0000 UTC “So from what I hear, Begale is lost.”“Where did you hear that? Same friend as last time?”
“No, it was my sister-in-law. She was stationed at the north gate last night. Apparently, the Motrico and Lazani families have been quietly moving everything of value that they can out of the city the last few days. They’re running, but trying to make it look like they’re loyal and staying around.”
“Shit... yeah, if the Families are running, there’s not much time left, is there?”
“Things are about to get even more hectic. They won’t be able to keep that news bottled up for much longer.”
Arlette Faredin focused on the on-break guards’ nearby conversation while she inspected the goods on the incoming wagon. Like many wagons she’d seen these last few days, this one was piled high with what looked to be everything the merchant owned. The flow of people to and from Crirada, the capital of the Republic of Eterium and the city where Arlette found herself, told a depressing tale of the current state of affairs—a steady stream of terrified people coming from the west, fleeing tales of Ubran hordes and desperately seeking the protection of the capital’s mighty walls, versus the quiet flight of those with the access to know that the protection of the capital’s mighty walls might amount to little.
The possibility existed that Crirada could hold against the Ubrans. Being the capital city of the most powerful nation on the continent, it made sense that Crirada would have defenses that only Redwater Castle could beat. Arlette couldn’t even imagine how much money had gone into completely encompassing the city with such intimidating walls. They towered over the surrounding plains, reaching hundreds of paces into the sky. Not only that, but they were so thick that you could stick an entire house on the walkway on top and you wouldn’t even cover half of it. Each of the four massive gates housed an equally gigantic set of solid metal doors known as the Doors of Prosperity for their golden, money-like sheen. These doors were as thick as a man was tall, strong enough to withstand a team of feelers pounding on them for hours. Nobody stood a chance of battering their way through the gates and into the city. They’d have to go the hard way and scale the walls, or risk trying to tunnel beneath, an incredibly dangerous gamble that would end in the death of everybody involved if just one defending earth Observer noticed them.
And yet, while the walls of Rul and Begale and the other cities couldn’t compare the Crirada’s, their defenses were still plenty formidable and the Empire had plowed through them like they weren’t even there. Rul should have been able to hold for at least ten days, Begale perhaps thirty or more... but instead, every city had folded quicker than grass in a windstorm. Reliable word about events far away was always hard to come by if you didn’t have money or the right connections, and the chaos of war only made things worse, but she’d heard stories of cities falling in just a few hours, of walls smashed into oblivion and gates rent asunder as an endless tide of Ubrans poured in. And above all, there was talk of an immortal monster leading them, stronger and faster than even the most powerful Feeler and able to shrug off any wound. If this monster really existed, it might not matter how tall or thick Crirada’s defenses were.
Less than a year ago, Arlette would have found such stories to be laughable at best. But a lot had changed in her life since then. Almost everybody she’d cared about had died, a city had been destroyed before her eyes by an impossible creature, she’d been hunted across a continent, and come face to face with a nightmare from her past. Oh, and she’d also come upon a strange young woman from another world, met a bizarre young beastgirl mad alchemist, experienced a terrifying vision of a different reality, and repeatedly punched a king in the face. To say that her perspective on what was possible had expanded greatly recently would be putting it lightly.
And now here she was, a nondescript guard in the Eterian capital, awaiting the incoming wave. Sofie’s predictions about the nature of King Morgan turned out to be spot on. Faced with the fact that their upcoming execution had already been announced throughout the country, the king chose to publicly kill some lookalikes and claim that justice had been done rather than try to hunt them down. The bounties were gone. As long as they kept their head down and kept their true identities to themselves, Arlette had a feeling that the three of them didn’t have to worry about being hunted any longer. Bounty hunters didn’t hunt for free, after all.
With little left to live for, Arlette decided to devote her every effort to thwarting whatever evil Sebastian was up to. She’d seen what the man was capable of, and if she could do something to stop it from happening a second time, she would. Sofie and Pari, the fools, had insisted on helping her instead of going off and having a happy life somewhere safe. She’d given in eventually, seeing that they were as set in their decision as she was in hers, not that she particularly minded the company anyway.
The plan at the time had been simple. They would make their way out of Kutrad, through Eterium, and into Gustil, where Arlette would hope to get a post at Redwater Castle as a member of the Gustilian army. That was where Sebastian would be, she’d been sure. Infiltrating the heart of the opposition’s defense, slicing their throats, and opening the doors was how he worked. But getting in there herself to stop him would be tough, but between her performance during the last election war five years ago and her familial connections with her second father’s family, she’d thought she had a decent shot.
Then, just four days after their arrival in Crirada, the supposedly invincible fortress had fallen. Arlette had been despondent for days. She’d missed her chance to stop Sebastian and get her revenge. But then cities had started to fall left and right as quickly as Redwater Castle, and she’d realized that Sebastian very likely hadn’t been there at all, and this was all the work of the rumored monster. Sebastian was frighteningly capable, but not so capable that he could undermine every metropolis simultaneously. No, he’d focus on where the power was, here in Crirada. In a strange, perverse way, everything had all worked out according to Arlette’s hopes.
Using what remained of the gold and valuables they’d pilfered from King Morgan’s chambers, Arlette had purchased a small house in the working quarter and, under the name “Lucana Domatin”, joined the city’s guard force that was eager to fill holes created by all the people sent off to fight. The job gave her an excuse to move all around the city while learning its hidden quirks and secrets. It also let her monitor the people and come up with possible suspects. Finally, it was her turn to be the hunter.
That evening, Arlette ambled her way through the city towards her new home in the worker’s quarter, her sword bouncing gently against her hip. The worker’s quarter, where the majority of the lower class people lived, was quite literally what it sounded like: a quarter of the city bound by two large walls which ran from the city center to the great walls circling the city. All of Crirada was like that actually. Unlike most cities, which featured a large wall around the entire metropolis and then another wall around the citadel in the center, Crirada also had four walls that connected the inner ring and the outer ring like a set of spokes, dividing the city into four mostly-equal-sized units. The walls served as expressways for city guards and various VIPs and allowed the Eterians, should they even fall under attack, to limit the damage when one part of the wall fell, bottling the incoming enemies into only a portion of the city and perhaps even allowing reinforcements to arrive quickly enough to push them back. It also served the purpose of marking out territories for the various social groups in the city.
Unlike Stragma’s castes or Kutrad’s nobility, commoners and slaves, Eterian society had no strict class structure. Here, all that mattered was the size of your purse. The more money to your name, the more power you could wield. That was how an entire quarter of the city was owned and controlled by just a few massive wealthy families like the Motrico’s and the Lazani’s, while half the city squeezed into just a fourth of the total real estate. That wasn’t to say that the walls completely divided the city—large archways in the walls could be found in several spots along the wall, allowing for movement between the zones—but they did make it easy for cross traffic to be controlled, should those in power so desire. You’d be hard-pressed to find many poor people in the wealthiest quarter of the city, for example. The arches also came equipped with thick metal gates that could be deployed to close off an area should the need arise.
Arlette cut through a back street to get to the nearest arch that connected the commerce quarter and the worker’s quarter, holding her breath instinctively as she passed by a Sweeper busy cleaning up nearby refuse. She could hear the Sweeper's raspy breath coming from behind their large, reptilian mask. Like everybody in the city, she tried to pretend that those disgusting, disease-ridden people didn’t exist, but they were unfortunately necessary to keep the city livable and would be even more important in the near future—they would be the ones tasked with cleaning up the aftermath of the upcoming battles.
The sun was below the horizon when Arlette entered the small but comfortable two-story home that she shared with the two other members of her “family”. The house could have used another room, but it had what they needed and had been more than cheap enough for their price without being run down. Almost immediately upon entering, a mix of pungent scents wafted through her nostrils and gave her a headache. She thought she smelled something vaguely resembling stew, but the aroma fused with a combination of other smells that could only mean Pari was experimenting again. In other words, a sadly normal evening in the house.
“I’m home!” she called as she entered the living area. The room didn’t have much light, with the only light coming from a few candles and a small fire flickering in the hearth beneath the stew pot. Suddenly, a dark blur dashed through the gloom and glommed onto Arlette’s hip, affectionately rubbing its dirty face against her side.
“Arly-sis is back!” the little lump cried, purring up a storm. Arlette’s hands reached out almost by habit and began scratching the tiny beastgirl behind her ears with a relaxed smile. There had been a long time when she’d thought that Pari would never forgive her for the events of their first meeting, and it had bothered Arlette more than she’d admit in public. Pari had this strange, naive innocence about her that made the hateful, distrusting glares hurt far more than they would from somebody else. To her relief, the adorable kid now considered Arlette part of her “family” and liberally imparted all the hugs and affection that came with such status. Still, Arlette couldn’t help but find the way Pari thought about family to be highly unusual. She always got the feeling that the girl’s idea of a family was almost less a group of relatives and more a collection you accrued as you went along.
“Hey there, Pari, did you behave today?”
“Uh-huh! Pari behaved a lot!”
“I’m sure you did,” Arlette chuckled. For such a precocious young girl, she sure seemed unable to properly grasp what it meant to behave like a proper little girl should. Likely that damned mysterious “grandfather” of hers was responsible. “Come, let’s eat.”
“Pari isn’t very hungry.”
“Pari, you’re a growing girl,” Arlette chided as she scooped some of the simmering stew into a wooden bowl. “You need to eat lots of food so you grow up big and strong, like your ‘grandfather’ or whoever. It’s important.”
“Pari knows,” the little girl conceded, looking sheepishly at the floor, “but Sofie-sis makes the food taste yucky.”
Arlette threw her head back and let out a laugh. Sofie wasn’t exactly a bad cook, per se; the level her technique seemed fairly high, she just had strange tastes and kept trying to use Scyrian ingredients for recipes from her world. It rarely worked out for the best. Still, with Arlette busy with her duties and her personal mission, that left only Sofie or Pari to cook, and nobody wanted to even think about eating food made by the mischievous brat beside her. A single spoonful of soup cooked by Pari would probably be enough to grow a third arm or something.
“Speaking of Sofie, is she upstairs again?”
“Yeah,” Pari glumly replied.
“Alright. I’ll go talk to her. I want you to eat at least one bowl of stew now before I come back down, alright?”
“But-”
“No buts. All the vegetables, too. You’re too thin.”
Pari grumbled something under her breath and went to get herself a bowl while Arlette took the stairs up to the second story, a smile on her face. No matter how different or weird, kids would still be kids. The wooden steps creaked as she slowly ascended, walked past the door to her own bedroom and stopped in the open doorway to Sofie and Pari’s room. There, sitting by a small desk with her head in a book, surrounded by brightly-shining candles and parchment covered in scribbles, sat Sofie. The young woman was so caught up in her work that none of the noise from down below, nor the sound of creaking wood and thumping steps slowly approaching, had dragged her from her trance-like focus.
Now that they weren’t running up and down the continent, Sofie had begun to finally get her bearings and right her life. Now that she actually had a stable routine and could find the time to study regularly, she’d picked up Eterian Common with shocking ease. Using her newfound language skills along with her number skills, she’d gotten a small job at a nearby tailor shop where she took care of their bookkeeping while also helping with sewing when they needed it. All the money she earned, minus what she contributed to the group’s living expenses, went towards ink and parchment to fuel the obsession that had taken over her life.
Much to Arlette’s dismay, Sofie had looted a book from that horrible dead place in the Valley of the Mist and somehow kept it hidden from her until just a few days ago. Stealing from the dead was one of the worst things somebody could do, but it wasn’t like they could go return the item at this point. This large book had stolen away all of the young woman’s free time. She would spend hours pouring over its pages, mumbling to herself and writing indecipherable things on parchment as she did. Perhaps, given time, she would be able to accomplish her goal and translate the tome, but it didn’t seem like she was making too much progress at the moment.
Arlette let out a short cough and Sofie’s head shot up. “Oh! Hey, you’re back!” the younger woman greeted. “How long were you standing there?”
“Long enough. You need to get your head out of that book every so often before you fall in for good. It’s consuming you.”
Sofie sighed. “I know, I know. I just feel like I’m close to making my first breakthrough, you know? I’ve already figured out a lot of words, or I think I have them figured out, at least, but the grammar is complex, and then there’s these extra-complex words that I can’t make heads-nor-tails of... if I can just figure out a bit more on one of these areas, this whole thing will open up to me. Don’t you want to know about the people who made that place?”
“Not particularly,” Arlette admitted. “I didn’t like it there. It didn’t feel... natural. Anyway, you should really think about limiting how much time you’re spending on it. Pari’s starting to feel neglected.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry. I don’t want Pari to be sad.”
“I don’t want Pari to blow up the house trying to earn your attention.”
“That too.”
Arlette spooned some stew into her mouth and chewed. The taste wasn’t really that bad, once you got used to it. “So we need to talk,” she said after swallowing.
“Yeah?”
“Begale appears to have fallen. There isn’t any more time. You both need to leave here while you still can.”
“Arlette, how many times are we going to discuss this before you stop trying to chase us away? Pari and I are not going anywhere, and that’s final.”
“You’re placing yourselves in harm’s way for no benefit. It’s stupid!”
“Where are we supposed to go? Gustil’s gone, so we can’t go there. I crushed the king of Kutrad’s balls with my foot, so that shitty place is out even I would ever want to go back there. Stragma will think we’re spies since we somehow escaped when the rest of their army was imprisoned. We’re not elves, so Drayhadal won’t let us in. And according to you, Otharia is some extremist religious hellscape where I’ll be murdered just because I’m not from there. Where else is there? Another Eterian town that will just be swallowed up like the rest within a month or two? There. is. no. place. left.”
“I just want you to value your lives more. There’s no reason you should have to die when you can avoid it.”
“And what about you? Why are you so willing to throw your life away?”
Arlette scowled. “You know why. I have something I have to accomplish, no matter what.”
“Is revenge worth it, even if it costs you your life?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
"Why are you so sure he's even here?"
"Because I know him. Infiltrating the enemy's stronghold, undermining from the inside, it's what he does."
"But they have something else now, don't they? Why even bother?"
"He's too proud for that. That bastard probably took the fact that Redwater Castle fell without him as an insult. I'd bet my life that he's here, even if only to make a point."
“You are betting your life on it. Why do you even know so much about this guy?”
“He...” Arlette paused, gritting her teeth as a wealth of memories can rushing back even as she tried to keep them away. “He ruined my life. That’s all I really want to say about it. Now that I know he’s here in Nocend, I won’t be able to rest until I know he’s dead.”
Sofie sighed. “Well, it looks like we’re all stubborn and stupid then. So let’s be stubborn and stupid together and support each other. You’re not alone, Arlette. We can help.”
“Thank you, but it’s better if I handle this one on my own.” She slurped up the last of the stew. “You’re cooking’s getting better.”
“Thanks. It’s a shame Pari doesn’t agree.” She stood up from the desk and stretched. “I should go play with her for a bit. You sticking around tonight?”
“Nah, I have some things I want to check out.”
“Alright. Let me know if I can help with anything.”
That said, Sofie passed Arlette and headed downstairs. Arlette, meanwhile, entered her own room and took off her guard’s uniform, replacing it with a dark cloak that would help her blend in with the city at night. She had a lot of skulking to do, and the last thing she needed was to get caught sneaking about like an Ubran agent just before a siege.
* * *
Four figures moved quietly under the evening moonlight, keeping to the shadows as they entered a back alley. Not a single one of them noticed the figure that followed them, its shape shifting and blending in with the darkness to avoid detection. Arlette had been following this group for about fifteen minutes now as they made their roundabout way through the city towards their destination, whatever it was. The four were members of a mercenary band that had arrived several days ago, a mercenary band that had come into existence just a few years ago. That newness had caught her eye—if Sebastian wanted to infiltrate the city and sabotage the defenses, his best shot would be as the leader of a mercenary band. He and his likely-complicit subordinates would be able to stab their allies in the back at the worst possible moment and seize control of one of the gate mechanisms that controlled the massive Doors of Prosperity. Then they could just open the doors and the Ubrans would march right on in with ease.
With that in mind, Arlette had decided to inspect and surveil as many mercenary bands as she could manage, focusing first and foremost on the newer ones. The older the group the less likely Sebastian was involved. He likely hadn’t been in Nocend until the last few years at the earliest anyway. This particular group seemed more promising than the last few. They were definitely up to something sketchy; she just wasn’t sure if it was something she needed to concern herself with yet.
The four stopped by a nondescript door and knocked lightly, looking around for any possible watchers. They didn’t see her, of course, as by that point she had hidden herself inside an illusory hay bale beside a stable on the other side of the nearby street. One of the men exchanged soft words with somebody on the other side of the door and the group entered.
Quick as a whip, Arlette sprinted across the street before slowing down approaching the door as quickly and quietly as she could manage. There weren’t any windows that she could see, so she softly pressed her ear to the door, hoping that she would be able to make out some of the voices through the wood. She had to close her eyes and strain her hearing for everything it was worth, but luckily, she found that she could just barely make out a conversation going down on the other side.
“-might not get here before the Ubrans arrive. It will be close,” said a gruff male voice.
“The inspections will be even more vigorous than now. Are you sure we can even get it inside without being found?” asked a softer, feminine voice.
“Leave that to me,” said a third, younger male voice. “Doesn’t matter what it is, I can get it through. This isn’t going to be the first time I smuggle a Many past inspections, you know.”
A Many? These people were planning to smuggle a Many into the city undetected? They were trying to set up secret communication channels before the city came under siege! Arlette tensed up at the realization. These people were almost surely not allies. Still, they talked of the Ubrans as if they were also the enemy. If they weren’t Ubrans, Arlette didn’t see the need to do anything about them just yet. She had to make absolutely sure that Sebastian didn’t know of her presence in the city. In fact, it was possible that he still thought her dead, and if so she wanted to keep it that way as long as possible. The Eterians had people who could track these people down if it came down to it. She kept listening.
“Alright, well let’s hope they get here in time or things are going to get dicey,” the female voice stated, concern in her voice. She coughed lightly. “On to smaller matters, then. Has anybody managed to locate the woman?”
Several other voices all answered in the negative.
“Do you want us to give that higher priority?” asked the gruff man.
“No, securing our position is most important,” replied the woman. “But do try to dedicate whatever extra time you can to it. This is, after all, a direct request from the prince of the Esmae clan himself. He will be most grateful for whatever information we can find.”
Arlette’s eye opened wide. The Esmae clan? That meant these people worked for Drayhadal, and only one group of Drayhadans operated outside of their own country. She’d stumbled upon members of the Masked Battalion. Her blood ran cold.
“I still can’t believe that asshole is a prince,” the younger male voice laughed.
“Watch your tongue when you talk about royalty, Krotar,” the woman warned.
“I would never speak ill of a member of the Battalion, I assure you,” he snickered. “I’m just saying, you ever met the man? I did once, up in Lita nine years back, and he’s nothing like any prince I ever imagined, that’s for sure.”
Arlette’s hands were shaking. She kept seeing that moment, as it played over and over in her mind. The way he had shrunken in on himself, revealing the lie of his identity, and extracted himself from shackles designed for a much larger man. The way he had walked towards the cell door without a look, revealing the lie of their friendship. The way he’d left her there, abandoning her after years of standing by her side with little more than a few words that even now echoed through her head.
Live well, Arlette.
The conversation inside the building halted in its tracks at the sound of footsteps in the alley. The door flew open and the members of the Masked Battalion charged out, but they found nothing. Arlette was already gone.
* * *
Three days later, the remnants of the Eterian armies at Begale arrived, and the city descended into panic. Arlette had been stationed at the west gate at the time, earning her the right to stand at attention and watch as the beaten-down soldiers dragged themselves through the city gates. She didn’t like what she saw. She could only see defeat in the eyes of the people passing by, as if they’d given up hope already. Were the Ubrans really that fearsome?
At the tail end of the procession, Arlette found herself looking at a face she hadn’t seen in years. While it had been more than two decades and some of the hairs had turned gray, she would never fail to recognize the neatly trimmed beard that ran down the man’s long, dour face and ended in a point several fingers below the chin. That beard belonged to the strongest earth Observer in the world, Supreme General Erizio Astalaria. He’d been her second father’s commander’s commander back when she’d first arrived on this side of the Divide, and she could still remember the distrusting glares he would send her way back then. Instinctively, she covered her face with an illusion of another as he passed, his stern gaze sweeping across the assembled guards as if he were memorizing each and every one of them.
With the arrival of the remains of the Eterian army, there was no more room to run. Soon she knew that an order would go out declaring that anybody of able body and mind attempting to leave the city would be considered a deserter and executed. All that was left now was the wait for the Ubrans to show themselves.
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IrateRapScallion
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