The duel had certainly seemed to put Saoirse in a good mood, as she is practically bouncing up and down with a manic grin as the duo continue their tour of the city.
“Oh, that was priceless! What I wouldn't give to have that on tape!” Saoirse giggles. “Good to know ya still haven’t lost your touch. It’s been a while since I saw you fight like that.”
Seren just cocks a brow and glances over at the blank beside her. “You know you could drop in whenever I’m practicing, right? I’ve been having sparring matches every day since the promenade.”
Saoirse winces at that. “Well, maybe I could, if I wasn’t busy being ordered around by the headsmare constantly.” Her voice takes on a heavily disgruntled tone as she pokes out her tongue in a foalish display of malcontence.
Seren just shakes her head. Saoirse never changed. The duo’s conversation gives way to mundane observances of the district around them as Seren takes them further east. Lazing about or not, it would be best if when they found accommodations they were closer to their ultimate destination so that the journey would not be as far.
As the sun begins to decline in the sky and the two mares march through the wall demarcating the boundary of the uptown district, the fiber of the city around takes on a decidedly different tone. The sprawl of buildings doesn't change; if anything, they get even more cramped; but there is decidedly less greenery (the ivy spreading up the sides of many of the buildings notwithstanding), and the cobbled roads are replaced with concrete.
Seren glances down at her talons as they scrape on the ground. She’d heard of these things; Concrete roads had started to supplant cobblestone in some parts of the country, though the old town districts she spent her time in were not amongst them. So this is concrete, hrm? Don’t think I like it very much. It didn’t have as much texture as the cobbled roads, nor did it provide as good grip. Perhaps she just needs to give it time to grow on her.
That’s hardly the only change, either. The buildings are equally tall, but are built in a far more utilitarian manner. Some are brick or wattle-and-daub, but the majority are hulking titans of brutalistic concrete and steel framework, blocks of buildings that just seem to stretch ever on and on endlessly, crowding together at ill fitting angles that makes traffic an increasingly major concern.
There are other modes of transit, too; On rare occasions, automobiles would try to crowd their way through the densely packed streets, forcing the pedestrians off to either side, while tracks for trains seemed to run through the city itself. Seren notes the latter with approval; at least not all of the city's design is bad, it seems. She hadn’t seen a train system within a city before, only between cities. She was sure Ceridwen would approve.
The inhabitants are different here too; She’s in a proper industrial district now, where aristocrats very rarely tread. While other unicorns, or pegasi, are relatively common near the castle, here the streets are almost entirely populated by soot-faced or sawdust-coated Blanks, many with hard hats or boiler suits working on innumerable construction projects. Perhaps it is little surprise then, that Seren finds herself attracting a perhaps unhealthy degree of attention; A small gang of youths who were currently in the process of spray painting something onto one of the concrete bulkheads that formed the foundation for a large factory building stops in their tracks, turning to just... stare at her.
Seren stares back, gaze hardening. Psht, how vulgar. Her eyes trace the “artwork” of the gang, and she sighs. If this were back home she’d do something about it, but as it is, she doesn’t feel like dealing with all the paperwork that would come with interfering in another duchy. She might have felt in some degree of danger given the general unruliness of her surroundings, but it was highly improbable any lowlife thug would dare try and touch a hair on the head of such an esteemed aristocrat.
So this is the new industry I’ve heard so much about. Seren Ardorwynn contemplates, strutting down the outskirts, right past the concrete mill and some manner of foundry, mixed together with housing in an increasingly haphazard manner; some of the factories even seem to have apartments built into the floors above them; Whatever allows them to cram more ponies into the city, it seems. The city was very modern, in a sense, lined with lampposts and with most of the buildings incorporating some manner of recent innovations into their construction.
Sounds of machinery, distant pounding, road work and motors running all blend together into a disparate rumble of industrial noise, echoing through the winding concrete streets. There is far less in the way of plant life here, though plenty of the buildings are somewhat overgrown; particularly the older ones, not yet demolished to be replaced with newer, more efficient warehouses. Saoirse next to her almost gags as she looks around at the surrounding environment. “Great. Away from the nobles, and straight into the factories. Wonderful.” She mutters underneath her breath. “Ya know, Ceridwen makes technology sound much more appealling than it actually seems to be…”
Seren wrinkles her nose, nodding her head. She was forced to agree; the smog is starting to get to her, and the noise is nearly as bad. Holding a taloned hoof over her eyes and squinting-her eyes are starting to burn in the smoke-she gazes up at the towering smokestacks above her. She’d just about reached the power plant, which for being on the cutting edge of technology does not look nearly as elegant as she might have hoped. Instead, the building is festooned in a rat's nest of catwalks, support pillars, ventilation shafts, piping, and heavy industrial doors. Whatever architect had designed the place clearly hadn’t had much of a head for organization or streamlining. Or basic safety, given the crippling lack of any railings.
Crash. Someplace inside the building, an echoing clatter sounds, along with a shrill, high-pitched, youthful shriek. Thinking on instinct at the sound of distress, Seren bucks down the door. Before even consciously processing what she is seeing, her reflexes kick in, horn lighting up with magic.
A young colt, almost unrecognizable below the thick layer of coal dust and ash clinging to him, screams as he plummets through the air before just barely being caught within Seren telekinetic grip. Slowly, his fall deccelerates, Seren not lifting too hard as the force of instant acceleration would be just as bad as impacting the ground. Instead, she pushes against gravity just enough to halt the colt floating in midair just above ground for a moment before releasing him with a gasp, letting him fall onto wobbling legs up on one of the steel catwalks.
It’s only then that Seren is actually able to process the scene before her. Soot-stained workers all are staring at the new arrivee in shock, save those manning machinery who remain dedicatedly focused despite everything. There is a loud groaning sound from machinery cranking, with four massive mechanical apparatuses- nearly three stories tall each, equally as wide and twice as long-laid out in rows inside the facility. One is currently cracked open, a number of ponies inside its inner workings doing something-or-another that Seren can’t understand. And the source of the commotion... The blank, soot-stained colt who had fallen from... Where? Seren’s gaze drifts up, locating the source of the loud clang. A ventilation shaft plugging into the great machine, near the top of the great interior of the power plant, had partially collapsed, bending like an overstrained twig.
Teleporting with a thunderous clap before the colt, the blank doesn't seem able to notice just yet, coughing and sputtering as he struggles to get some of that ash clogging his lungs out of his system. The finesse required to help the colt with such things is outside of Seren’s grasp, so she simply waits, furrowing her brows with deep concern while the colt struggles to clear his airways.
Eventually, the colt is able to breathe a little more clearly, still wheezing and breathing raggedly but at least he’s breathing instead of coughing. Raising his head, his eyes immediately go wide in shock and he bows his head low at the sight of his apparent savior. “I-I’m sorry, your gr-” He’s cut off by another coughing fit, doubling over as he struggles to keep his composure. “G-grace. It won’t h-happen ag...” Further attempts at speaking are unable to make it out, the coughing sounding more rough and raw with every time.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
Seren looks down at the pony with sympathy. She is somewhat used to her presence instilling intimidation in those around her, especially here in the south; gryphs are not a usual sight for these ponies, after all. But there is more to it this time, and Seren gets the sense the ponies shaking legs are not only because of his fall. “What in heaven's name were you doing up there?” Was he trying to sneak into the plant? But why would a colt even want to do such a thing?
“C-Cleaning, sir.” Comes the response, hoarse and afraid. “The older ponies don’t fit in the vents, so it's my job to clear them out during maintenance.”
Seren stares at the pony, aghast. He means to say he works here? A quick look up at the rafters reminds Seren just where he had fallen from; a claustrophobic, clogged ventilation shaft connecting to a gigantic fan; a fan that, notably, is presently running. Seren can’t help but imagine what would happen if somepony were to be sucked into that apparatus; at the speed it's moving at, even an adult stallion would be reduced to unrecognizable mincemeat, let alone a little colt like this.
Seeing Seren’s expression, the colt seems to think she is angry at him, and he cringes under her gaze. “I-I’m sorry! There was a clog in the system and it caved in when I was working on it! I didn’t mean to...” His voice is pleading, almost terrified. “Please don’t hurt me...”
“I’m not going to hurt you. How did you come to work here?” Seren replies, voice calm and measured.
The colt raises both brows, looking slightly taken aback by the question, shuffling nervously. “Um, overseer Ashmane bought my contract from my parents so I could get into spaces the older ponies can’t.” He states. “Are you... Are you going to report me?”
Seren scoffs. “I’ll be reporting something, alright. ‘Overseer Ashmane’, hmm? Take me to him.”
----------------------------------------
The path to the overseers office is uneventful, every other worker standing aside with head bowed in respect to the uncommon presence of a noble in their midst. As is Seren’s right, of course.
The colt beside her looks around anxiously, keeping his head bowed down low, contrasting with Seren, whose head is held high and proudly, deepest blue mane undulled by the soot and ash that wafts through the air; it wouldn’t do to let anypony know that was only because she had shielded herself the moment she’d entered the building, of course. The particulates are bad enough outside, without dealing with them in here; she is sure she’d be squinting by now otherwise. Not to mention the havoc the soot would wreck on her meticulously combed mane, especially as she doesn’t presently have a room to go back to to redo it. The breakdown of the ventilation system had allowed an altogether unbearable level of pollutants into the air.
Seren glares at the door, quirking her beak as she debates how to introduce herself. She could politely knock on the door, state her name and title, then continue on to her business of course. Or, she could simply bash down the door with a charged blast of magic from her horn, storm in there, and demand an explanation for the appalling working conditions.
Seren chooses the latter.
The door flies clean off its hinges as a streak of silvery magic blasts through it, crumpling it like paper as the mass of steel flies clean across the room before embedding itself into the opposite wall like some manner of oversized throwing dart. The pony inside just about jumps out of his skin and shrieks in surprise as Seren marches into the room, every fiber of her being invested into maintaining the imperious aura of intimidation she’d cultivated.
“The working conditions at this facility are quite simply appalling! Explain yourself!” Seren barks out, stamping her talons down as she confronts a currently whimpering and cowering overseer of the plant. “There are hardly any safety precautions taken at all, and the air tastes like charcoal! I wouldn’t stomach making a beast work here, let alone a mere child! Purchasing former citizens as slaves has been outlawed for decades! And that’s not even to mention the downright ghastly choice of decor!”
“I-What are you doing here? Who are you?” The overseer scrambles back, shaking with obvious jitters before the aristocrat before him. He might be in charge of the workers here, but he is still no more than a mere blank before a currently very angry unicorn.
Seren Ardorwynn sneers imperiously as she marches right up to the cowering stallion, eyes narrowed in enmity. “Lord Seren Ardorwynn of house Cadenza, heir apparent to the duchy of Luddas. Now, you will answer me.” She scowls and drags her perfectly manicured talons across the wooden floor as if just waiting for an opportunity to use them.
Ashmane blinks in confusion, no doubt wondering what on earth the heiress of the eastern reach was doing here, in his factory. Doing his best to recombobulate himself, Ashmane pulls himself up to his hooves once more, doing his best to still his shaking. “What in heavens are you sputtering about? I’m here by the grace of his Lord Duke Powell! If you have any problems with how I run this facility, bring it up with him!” He tries to deflect.
Seren Ardorwynn glares at Ashmane, debating internally. It wasn’t like she held the Powell dynasty in particularly high esteem, not after the events of the promenade, but surely the ruler of an entire duchy would show more dignity than that? The duke’s responsibility was to safeguard the wellbeing of his people; this place did not seem particularly ‘safeguarded’ in even the broadest terms. Surely the overseer was either lying or hiding things from the duke.
Snarling, Seren seizes the overseer by the neck, pulling his face close to hers so that he is forced to stare directly into her viciously focused raptorial eyes. “And what about the children, hmm? You can’t honestly expect me to believe the duke would impugn his honor by employing slaves in such a barbaric manner.”
“There are no slaves here!” Ashmane belts back out. “They are working off their contract terms! They’ll be free as soon as they pay off their debts!”
Seren stares aghast into Ashmane’s eyes. He doesn’t seem to be lying, as far as she could tell; he was probably too shaken to think of doing such a thing. But such a practice hardly seemed much different in application. “What debts could they possibly have? They’re just children!” Seren demands.
“They took out loans and now they’re covering it!” Ashmane shoots back, grimacing. “Maybe read up on current practices and law before you storm into someponies office and vandalize their equipment! Just let me down and I’ll show you the contract and everything.”
Seren Ardorwynn growls in disgust, and throws Ashmane down against the floor, not speaking a word as she waits for him to do as he said. Scrambling for the desk, he hastily opens the various drawers and tears through the various manuscripts under Serens ominous, watchful gaze. Finally, he presents a document to Seren. “There, take a look and see! You’ll see that everything is in order, and this rampage of yours is completely uncalled for!”
Seren takes the contract, eyes glancing over it in disbelief, though she does also keep her ears carefully tuned to the overseers movements. ’The applicant will work for a term of fifteen years to pay off a debt of one thousand-five hundred bits. Shelter and food will be provided by the employer’? The bottom of the contract bears a signature, looking rather unsteady, as if written under pressure. Most of the document is written in abstract legalese, but one thing does stand out to Seren; the pony the ‘loan’ was paid out to was not in fact the colt supposedly taking it, but others with the same family name. Parents, perhaps?
Seren hisses. She’d seen enough; she might not be able to put a halt to the entire facility, outside of her jurisdiction as it is, without risking a major political incident. But she also isn’t about to simply leave the situation as it is. It was the sacred charge of an aristocrat to look after the wellbeing of the commonfolk; that is what her mother had always taught her, from a young age. Lighting up her horn, she incinerates the contract to ash. “Contract or no, I will not tolerate this travesty. I’ll be taking your slave someplace they can work under fair conditions. And I will be reporting these conditions to your lord.”
Ashmane stumbles after her. “Now look here, you can’t just go and rob me! I am operating this facility under the auspices of the lord duke, precisely as I was instructed to...” he trails off, as Seren’s gaze meets his once more, clearly a mere step away from blowing a gasket, and he gulps nervously. That beak of hers sure does look sharp, doesn’t it?
“I highly doubt your lord is going to start an internecine war on your behalf. Stay out of my way, or you’ll end up like your door here.” She states, in a cold and measured tone that leaves little doubt as to her sincerity.
The overseer does not bother her for the rest of her impromptu visit.