Cecile jogged through the streets, hands in her pockets and the distant wailing of a band playing near a sprouting fountain. Her head high and turning rapidly like a schizophrenic in the middle of hysteria; look this way! Look that! Glowing monsters, painted nightmares. The signs and the lights, advertisement with such bright coloring and mana-lighting that they looked like hellspawn.

Cecile turned, a giant sabretooth snout was in her face. She jumped.

It was an entrance to a bar: The Angry Pussy.

Everyone passed them knew her to be foreigners, giggling and putting their hands over their mouths, while their eyebrows jumped at the country pumpkins.

“This your first time in a city?” Harrogate asked.

“O-of course.” She ran into a pole and rubbed her head.

“You were homeschooled, weren’t you?”

“I was educated by the finest minds.” She said. “That’s what mom and pa always said.”

“Yeah, but how often did you get out?” Harrogate asked.

“I walked through the gardens. Sometimes.” She said.

“Sometimes.” Harrogate rubbed his chin. “You got that dumb innocence. You could be a waitress, you know that?”

“I’m not waiting any tables.” She said. “You know how I feel about taking orders.”

“Yeah. It’d be a shame if you could make money like a normal human being.” He said.

He stood post near a corner street, picking pinned papers off a job-board, the crude drawings of wanted men (One such called Jeremiah Du’Vall) and the wild postings of savage animals near town with pelts to collect, and money to bank. He went through these papers, eyes narrowing and head turning in subtle declination of each prospect. And she? She stood, shoulders shrugged with her head away from the lights and trying hard not to focus on the passing laughter.

“Assholes…”

A deep breath. Honking carriages with neon-wheels zoomed past, the manes colored equally clownish.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Hey. Hey you!” Across the street, someone waved. She put her hand across her forehead and leaned her face in. A horse zoomed back. Back up, country bumpkin.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you. The cute girl with the red hair!” Again, his hands fluttered in the air. “Wanna make some money?”

Above, the sign read GALAXY STUDIOS.

“So what’s the catch?” Harrogate asked.

Cecile stood next to the stocky looking fellow, his eyes looking down at Harrogate with what seemed like disgust.

“There is no catch, dwarf.” He said.

“I’m not a dwarf. I’m just…”

“Small.”

They stared at each other, the intensity between them like the sword clash of two sabers. One giant spark of metal slamming on metal.

“Harry.” Cecile began, her own hands making the gestures of a dealer or seller. “It’s like he says, I’m going to star in what they call. Movies. Do you know what a movie is, Harrogate.”

“I know it sounds full of shit, Cecile.” He turned to her.

“It’s a hundred gold. How much do we need?”

“A hundred gold.” Harrogate said.

“So then I star in this movie. They pitch me as an actor, you know what an actor is, right? So the whole thing is a play, like they have on the stage. But they record it with this magic bal-”

“Cecile.” He took her by the arm and pulled her to the side, lowering her head down to his level. “You got any idea if this guys good for his word or not?”

“Harry, what’s the big deal?” She said. “He’s nobleblood. Wanna know how I know that? Because I’m nobleblood. We just know each other, it’s a thing. It’s like harmonizing our periods and stuff. Except with money.”

“How can you harmonize what you don’t have?” Harrogate asked.

“That’s why I’m here, ain’t it?”

He stomped on the floor and looked around, the fellow looking shifty underneath his tophat and bow-tied suit. Big jowls on his face pleated down, the curtain drawn on his fat neck. His cheeks flushed, the sweat on his forehead. There wasn’t a lick about him that looked clean, anyway Harrogate saw it.

“Alright.” Harrogate turned to the man, walked up a few steps until they were just a single breath’s distance away from each other.

“Alright?” The shifty fellow asked.

“Cumbrick, was it?”

“Yep.” Cumbrick said.

“A hundred gold for her acting, where do I fit in?”

“In a small box.” He said. “A very, very small box.”

“I want in on this movie.” He said.

“Sorry. I’m making her famous, not you.”

“Famous?” He turned to Cecile. His head turned in epiphany. “Famous, you said? We’re definitely not taking your deal.”

“I’m definitely taking his deal.” Cecile said.

“Oh you gatta be kidding me, you’re going to leave me like that?” Harrogate asked.

“That’s right. It’s just a few days, Harry. A few days and we’ll have all the money we could need.”

“And what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. But hopefully not movies.” Cumbrick said. “Let’s go, Cecile.”

She turned her shoulders to him, nodding. “I’ll be back.”

Her form fading into the crowd of people that congested the streets with a rainbow’s variation of clothes and flesh and paint. Elves with dreads, dwarfs with little monkeys on their shoulders. A whole assortment of these people, and there were the two, heading into it all

“I’m not good enough for movies?” Harrogate kicked the floor, it streaked black against his soles. “I’ll show you. Assholes.”