Chapter 16: Taxi! Part 1

Jenkins wrung his hand out to loosen the cramps from writing. Bart had been a demon of paperwork for hours following the incident outside the walls. Several minutes of yelling between Bart and the senior enlisted men from Red Adder about delaying the arrival for “Bureaucratic bullshit” had been had.

The argument was brought to an abrupt end by the man Franklyn slamming that large rune-covered sword into the ground between the groups and sending a shockwave thundering through the dirt away from the wall. This silenced the Red Adder men and brought a smirk to Bart’s lips.

“This is happening. Let it. Then you can be on your way.”

The two luciloos had exchanged a glance between them, then Brynnly drew out something from his saddlebag and showed it to the man. Bart waved to the men, and they rode off toward the city gates. Corporal Smythe yelled to the men, but they ignored the man and kept riding.

Franklyn grinned aggressively at the soldiers who had just been arguing that it was a waste of time. Smythe looked resigned that the luciloos had escaped this fate. The group wisely complied by following Bart inside the city to a massive gatehouse for interviews, witness statements, and debriefing. As they walked, Jenkins overheard Bart whispering to Franklyn,

“Thanks for that, but don’t use that thing any more than you have to for the rest of the day. Have one of the others use it, or the guild will have your head.”

Ignoring this interplay, Jenkins made a point of keeping Robby with him during their “debriefing.” He wasn’t sure why the rest of the screaming gaggle of humanity trying to escape the looming threat of the city walls trying to eat somebody in such a spectacular fashion weren’t corralled for the debriefing process, but he wasn’t in charge. He knew offering a suggestion that would result in more delays would not be well received.

His hands were full in keeping the boy in check anyway. He understood why the events would rile a boy up, but he had acted out in anger after the events were wrapping up. The other men escorting the rest of that group of monsters had fed the badger thing to the scorpion thing, killed the scorpion thing with Franklyn’s sword, and then marched the surviving monsters off into the city.

The flowing river of humanity had resumed its progress back into the city once the walls had been suppressed. Red Adder’s group had been ushered through the gates’ shorter line and into the gatehouse.

Private Johansen was snagged by a man inside the gatehouse in an official-looking tabard and separated from the group. He had looked nervous as the man hauled him away.

For anyone who has ever been in a debriefing, it was a dull affair. Questions were asked and repeated until Jenkins tried changing how he pronounced the words to see if they were even paying attention to what he was saying. This seemed to amuse Robby for a few moments until another mob had shuffled dejectedly into the room with another stack of papers for their interviewer.

It was a skinny two-foot-tall rabbit in faded and dirty livery that resembled someone’s poor attempt at a suit. A tight silver collar encircled its throat. It trudged to the table and dropped off its payload, pulling a dented but shiny golden pocket watch from a pocket to check the time. It seemed anxious over what it observed.

The interviewer only noticed when Robby and Jenkins wouldn’t stop staring. He had smacked the rabbit, taken the watch, and placed it in his pocket casually.

“Back to work, Rabbit. No time for your escapism today. Get another set down to the other group. You’ll get it back at the end of your shift.”

At Robby’s incredulous little boy rage at the casual cruelty, the man had said,

“What? I’m not a thief, and if he keeps staring at that thing during work hours, he’ll get worse from the shift supervisor or even sent to the petting zoo.”

Jenkins asked,

“Petting zoo? Somebody else mentioned that. What is it?”

The man had glanced at the still-furious Robby and said,

“A place the monsters don’t want to get sent to. Let’s get back to it. Wombats have better things to do.”

“Wombats? What’s a wombat?”

The man sighed and placed his quill on the desk beside the papers he was filling out after asking the same questions to Robby and Jenkins for the past hour.

“W.o.m.b.a.t. Today it stands for Wranglers of Monsters Beleagured And Tired. If you are one of the upper class, it is a Waste Of Money, Brains, and Time. Can we get started again? This is already running longer than any of us want.”

Jenkins smiled at the jab toward people of a higher station having a stuck-up attitude toward anyone not higher than themselves before replying,

“Can’t we just pencil-whip this? It seems like this is a waste of time.”

The man sighed and pointed with his quill to a corner of the room near the ceiling. A small, opaque dome of glass sat nestled there.

“No. When the order for paperwork comes down from the Grandmaster, it happens how it’s supposed to, or you stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop happening the way you are supposed to. Now, when you left Red Adder County, why?”

Jenkins sighed and started again. He doubted improperly filled out paperwork could carry a death penalty, no matter who was watching, but humored the man.

Robby’s fury seemed to have dissipated with the rabbit’s sad trudging out of the room, and he quickly grew bored again. The boy slumped on his stool in one corner of the room, playing with some rocks he had gotten from somewhere. Jenkins became fixated on the objects, seeking an escape from the inane questions he had already answered.

Those aren’t rocks. Where did he get dice? Does his mother know he has those?

His thoughts were interrupted.

“Novice Jenkins, pay attention, we’re almost done.”

He glanced back at Robby, who was failing to whistle nonchalantly on his stool, with a startled look at the two adults in the room. The dice had disappeared.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Whatever. A boy could do worse than harmless dice.

The experience had been unpleasant. Aside from some hand cramping from signing his name to affidavits, whatever those were, so many times Jenkins supposed it could have been worse. He hoped that Bart fellow would finish his work before the shift ended.

That death penalty threat is overused. A death penalty for failure to do paperwork? Half the world would rather be dead already.

The group had been released with a thick pamphlet, almost a book, of city regulations they had all been encouraged to read through at their earliest convenience. Jenkins got the impression he should probably page through it sooner than later and resolved to do just that when they stopped wherever they were going for the night. He looked up to spot the sun almost directly overhead.

He hoped they had enough time to get there. The size of the city was more intimidating when he was within the enormous bucket of humanity.

People were everywhere. They rushed by going about whatever tasks they deemed to be necessary without any care for their fellow humans’ progress or survival. In the hour the group had traveled, he had seen seven or eight people almost crushed by a wagon overpacked with barrels, crates, or other sundries. Various monsters drew all the wagons or transports, all sporting silver collars just as different from beast to beast.

There was little uniformity in what type of beast was used in the labor. A cloud of flying imps had carried a light palanquin above the crowd in one section. That had been more eye-catching because of the blinding reflection of the sun off their small ring-like collars than the site of a cloud of monsters freely flying about.

Horse-eagle-lion things dragged wagons behind them in snorting protest at the burden of an overly gilded coach. The collars of these were delicate and refined, more closely resembling jewelry.

A pair of brightly multi-colored lizards, both the size of a wagon, had great slabs of bolted-together sections of that silvery metal hanging from their throats. That pair had dragged a long chain of smaller vehicles with barrels stacked two stories high atop each.

None of the people or monsters moving about seemed to give a whit for anyone else who was moving. The exception was only evident when a group would move in unison, overwhelming their opposition from the sheer weight of numbers. Private Johansen, acting as the experienced guide, had helped the group find a service that provided extra bodies to accompany them through the press toward their destination.

The private had spoken briefly with the Corporals in charge, retrieved a paper one of them pulled from his pack, and then disappeared into the press of bodies surrounding the party and keeping the party pressed against one of the towering buildings only a few blocks from the gatehouse. A few minutes later, he had returned, cutting a swath through the milling masses with a group of over a dozen burly men, all sporting stout cudgels and yellow checkerboard hats.

The men had not been shy with the cudgels for any too slow to get out of the way. Most potential victims had spied the hats, given a sour look of distaste, and streamed to one side of the group.

Johansen was grinning at the Red Adder citizens as his entourage opened a path for the party to flow into. The lead thug, more imposing than the others and sporting a fancier hat, had a sour expression as he looked on. He spoke with a tone of voice that belied the friendliness in his words.

“Welcome to Purpolis. Don’t fall behind. We don’t wait for stragglers.”

Robby seemed overwhelmed by the crush of monsters and people flowing around them as they traveled. Jenkins didn’t blame him. This was starting to get to Jenkins as well. So far, he had not enjoyed his experience in the big city.

Walls that stretched into the sky separated the city in a way that seemed random to Jenkins’s eye. Every street corner had tall posts with multiple street signs pointing in every direction and multiple different colors on some.

Jenkins suspected the colors on the signs matched different districts that they passed through. Every gate was a different color that matched some of the street signs he had seen.

As they traveled through the city gates, the walls separating sections of the city allowed for a stark and striking transition from district to district. Each new section they traveled through had a different feel and appearance. The only common sight was statues on either side of the gates they passed.

Some were strangely regal humanoid monsters or humans with snooty expressions dressed in equally pompous clothing. All the statues held staves that glowed softly with glyphs running their length.

These made the entire party from Red Adder nervous every time one came into sight, remembering what had occurred outside the city. When nothing happened after the first few were passed, it did not ease their tension. It was a stressful journey through the sights and smells of so much happening around them as they traveled.

Here’s hoping the boy can last until we get where we are going.

The boy’s expression tightened a little more each time the group escorting them had to shuffle to the side of whatever road they were going down to make room for a conveyance pulled by the various collared mobs.

There was a moment after an hour of travel when they had taken a short break in an outdoor market off to one side of a major thoroughfare. Jenkins had stepped over to a food vendor and grabbed a few skewers from a vendor with a peculiar sign that proclaimed, “Monster Skewers!”

Jenkins had thought it was an appropriate sign as the skewers of mysterious meat he didn’t recognize were enormous, barely supported by the thin bamboo wood holding them. He had observed they smelled delicious. He hadn’t known what the group holding signs with indecipherable text and shouting at the fellow manning the stall had been on about.

Why the dirty looks from that lot? Well, this should put a pep back in Robby’s step. Never known a boy not to be hungry.

To Jenkins’s surprise, Robby had not enjoyed the meat. The boy had taken one sniff of the food and stated,

“This food is not to my liking.”

“What? It’s meat, boy. Aren’t you hungry?”

Robby had looked at the dripping meat Jenkins was holding out to him and sneered.

“I’ve been taught not to trust meat you don’t procure yourself unless you know where it comes from.”

Jenkins looked at the boy in bafflement.

Where’d he get that way of speaking? Were his parents this stuck up? Didn’t think they were this bad.

Jenkins decided to try one more time. Robby was far from home and would need to keep his strength up if he was going to be running messages all over. It wasn’t like him to try to please anyone this much, but the boy needed to be reminded he wasn’t alone.

As a male former farmer in his thirties who had almost forgotten what it was to be a small boy, he thought food was an excellent start to this. To be fair to Jenkins, good food is often a fair way to start a friendship. To his detriment, lousy food is often an excellent way to make enemies, and tastes are often subjective.

“Granted, I don’t recognize the type, but they’d hardly let a man sell food that was spoiled. At the least, he’d be strung up for getting anyone sick. Don’t be scared to try new things, Robby. It’ll help you broaden your horizons.”

Robby crossed his little arms in a huff and looked ready to start kicking Jenkins in the shins.

“No.”

Jenkins stared at the boy. He shrugged and handed the extra meat to one of the soldiers, who took it suspiciously, sniffed it, then shrugged himself and bit into it. The other man seemed to enjoy it well enough. Jenkins thought it was a bit spicy.

After their short break, the party went back to it. After another few hours of travel with less frequent breaks than anyone traveling through the city would like, they arrived at a set of gates brightly painted with a purple and white checkered pattern.

A sign over the top of the gate proclaimed this to be Military District One. Jenkins sighed in relief.

About gods damned time.

Then the Corporals started shouting.

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