Arthur:
"Oh yeah, baby! This is bussin'!" Michael breathed out through his stuffed mouth, spilling morsels everywhere as he shoved another piece of meat down his gullet.
"Ew. You are so gross." Astrid took a step away from him, dodging the bits of pieces that had managed to escape from his jammed mouth.
"Oh, fuck off, if your lover wasn't here, you'd be raw dogging that meat, and you know it." He barked at her, swinging the giant bone around as he did.
A smirk formed on his face. "Oh wait, is he still your lover after he cheated on you? Damn, I'd need some tea to go along with this succulent delicacy, muahaha!"
"Grrr—it's nothing like that…" Her clear blue eyes stole a glance at me before looking away. "…all you talk about is absolute shit anyways."
Letting out a long sigh, I looked up at the grey sky and adjusted the brooch shaped artefact over my robe before giving a shake to my head and adjusting my hair.
We were currently in the 'commoner's district' of Lawold. All of us were using an artefact that made us look like we had quite long horns which helped us in melding in quite nicely.
Other than the difference in natural appearances, demons seemed to be no different than humans. Unlike the rumours and folklores, demons are not evil beings. As a matter of fact, so far, I have not seen a single person do anything offensive; by the local law of course.
The so-called 'commoner's district' was only common in name. I am quite sure that if humans from this era were to suddenly teleport here, they would most likely call it a 'utopia.'
There were signs everywhere indicating the mode of conduct along with a small number at the end as well. Turns out it is the 'infraction fees' and 'heavy citations' that had held everything in the correct places.
The bin to our right had '7 cinders' written on it, which meant that throwing rubbish around would result in an infraction fee of 7 cinders.
In Helheim, the highest denomination of currency is the Glimmerstone or GS, for short.
The Glimmerstone is a valuable currency, often used for major transactions such as purchasing large estates, securing powerful artefacts, or brokering high-level agreements between powerful entities. It would make sense why entry into that military encampment cost around or more than 2 GS whereas 1 GS could buy you a house.
Glimmerstones only come in a denomination of 1. Each glimmerstone coin is translucent and has a sapphire flame insignia in the centre of it. A commoner more or less never sees a glimmerstone in his or her lifetime.
One Glimmerstone is then equivalent to 100 Diadems; the next tier of currency. Diadems come in denominations of multiples of 20; 20, 40, 60, 80 and 100.
Following it is Vulcanite which is what's widely circulated among the middle and upper classes for everyday high-value purchases, such as quality weapons, materials, and substantial services. It is the currency of merchants, skilled craftsmen, and lesser nobility.
One diadem is equal to 100 Vulcanites, ensuring that substantial wealth can be broken down into more manageable units. They come in denominations of 1 and 2 iron coins and multiples of 10 banknotes; 10, 20, 30, 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90 and 100.
Beneath the Vulcanites are Terras – a common currency used by the general populace for daily transactions, including food, clothing, and other necessities. One vulcanite converts into 100 Terras, making it accessible for routine trade and commerce. The denominations for this one are the same as vulcanite.
At the base of the system are the Cinders, the smallest and most abundant form of currency, used for the smallest purchases, such as basic provisions, minor goods, and services. One terra equals 100 cinders. They only come in denominations of 1 cinder coin.
If you look carefully at it, the structure of this currency is very well balanced. And the infractions levied are in equilibrium as well. While it may look less, the average salary of a commoner in the lowest stratum, a general labourer, is around 50 cinders per day.
A loaf of stale bread which could be cut in 7 pieces of decent sized bread costs 15 cinders. And to add something on top like butter or jam costs around 30 cinders per jar which contains around 300 ml of content. Leaving the person with a 5 cinder as savings.
While this may have been counted as savings, there are a lot of other things to consider as well such as the rent and a few other things such as the quarterly security fees – which is paid as a homage to the platoon of soldiers named 'Border's Shield' who guard the high rising city wall and the bridge that connects the commoner's side with the official part of Lawold.
There is also another brigade which acts as police, maintaining law and order and mitigating skirmishes. Border guard costs a cinder per resident, while the brigade that deals directly with citizens costs 1 cinder per two people for one month.
Since the security fees are based on the number of people, the population control of Lawold is also immaculate. People usually do not conceive more than 2 children in their potentially thousands of years of life.
I am ignorant on this topic but from a personal standpoint, anything less than 10 is just lame.
Hmmm…maybe this is why the other species wanted to kill us all those years ago…
Anyways.
"Hey Arthur…it's not true right?"
I was brought out of my thoughts as I heard Astrid's voice next to me.
"Hm?" I hummed out in confusion. "You were saying?"
Using a paper to wipe the wet blotch of red spice from her lips, she spoke again. "Are you…dating her? And if not, why is she even here!? Didn't they try to kill you!? Us?!"
She pointed behind me. From the corner of my eye, I saw Isolde look away with a rather haughty expression.
"Things happened." I replied, scratching my neck. "But no, I am not dating her. She's bound to serve me, however; I'd release her after the minimum required period of serving." I finished, taking a sip of the extremely bitter black liquid.
It was not coffee, or tea; or anything on that matter. But the effects it had on my brain were magical. A little 'arcanic' if you would. Ehm…
"And why is she serving you?" Astrid's crystal blue eyes narrowed at me.
"She lost the duel, remember? Turns out they have a 'if we lose, we serve the victor' policy. Nothing more, nothing less." I reassured her once again.
Taking a step forward, Astrid grabbed a hold of my robe and twisted it. "Yes; nothing more, nothing less. Don't let me catch you lacking."
"Lacking? I don—oh, you mean that."
I understood the slang this time around! Character development!
"Yes, absolutely!" She moved back and forth on the balls of her feet, pursing her lips and frowning deliberately.
"I'd tap, I'm not gonna lie." Michael interjected, letting out a long, content sigh. "As a matter of fact, I'd fuck her to death!"
"Geez. You're such a scum…" Astrid shuddered.
"What? Not my fault I am more masculine than your lover boy over there."
"It's not a matter of me lacking masculinity." I interjected with a sigh.
Why does he think I don't have interest in women or lack masculinity?
"Then what?"
"The thought of intimacy with just anyone is absurd to me."
"Blah blah blah. Alright old man. Fasten a chiton and go work with those monks in sky temples or something." Waving his hand, he turned around. "I'll be around the corner. Eating, for now."
A rather mischievous grin appeared on his face. "If ya don't got a use for that gal, pass it over, muaha!" Cackling to himself, he turned around the corner and went deeper into the food market.
"Another day of realisation that I can never get used to this guy." Astrid sighed, shaking her head. "Thank heavens you found me. I can't imagine what would've become of me if I had fallen into the hands of someone like him."
She shuddered.
"Hmm, I mean-" I started to speak. "-you are not that safe with me either."
She looked at the selection of skewered meats. "I don't mind."
"What…?"
Astrid flustered. "I-I meant, I don't think you will do anything of the sorts…we've been together for more than 2 years, y-you know, haha…"
Standing by her side, I pierced the square-shaped, bite-sized piece of meat along with the black coloured bell pepper with a toothpick and ate it. The flavour of the bell pepper was quite similar to the ones we have on Earth, the meat, however; was something entirely different.
But given how we had experienced so many meats so far—one of them being the Wyrm's meat—I am not surprised at all. And while it does feel chewy sometimes, the natural flavour of the meat is very strong. Not to mention its smell.
Even underneath the plethora of Eden-ic spices, I could smell the strong aroma.
"We were kids back then." I replied to Astrid, and then paused, slowly chewing the food. Feeling it roll up and down in my mouth, it made the back of my throat and the tip of my tongue burn a little. Not in an uncomfortable way, but in a way that amplified the flavour.
Who said Europeans can't have spice?!
"What are you trying to i-imply!"
"Nothing. I am—"
I was about to talk when the hooded figure—who was silent until now—came up to me.
"How long do you intend to keep me here? It reeks…" Isolde's voice trailed off as the man making the skewers shot a glare at her.
She wore a full black robe and a cape that covered her face and horns. Since her second pair of horns were shorter, they were well hidden with the cape that covered more than half of her face.
"I am not keeping you here." I replied, as a matter-of-factly.
"After some talks and finding loopholes, it turns out I can release you. However, there is a period of definite service that you must serve." I explained.
Astrid closed in as well, trying to hear what I was saying. However, since she can't understand Abrahamic, she let out a grumbling moan and went back, ordering the same tea-coffee or whatever it was.
"That period is 1 month. I have no idea how time works here, so I am sure that the only way your family won't be smitten by Hades is to wait for a month and let things flow naturally."
I took a whiff of the pungent air, laced with the smell of gunpowder, oil and poverty. "And preferably keep your mouth shut as well. I am sure you have nothing but curses in stock for me, so do yourself a favour."
"You—" She looked around and then pulled her hood even lower. "Do you not have an ounce of common sense, human? Do not talk about such matters in the public."
I shrugged my shoulders before taking a bite out of what looked like a miniature version of a taco, but made out of rice. "None of them can hear what we are talking about right now."
Reducing unaugmented sound waves to a whisper was not a hard task, after all.
"Rude. Talk in a language I can understand naaaaaaa~" Astrid groaned with a stuffed mouth.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Sometimes she feels like a blessing. Sometimes…yeah, sometimes things are better off unsaid.
After a moment of getting nothing but silence, both chatterboxes started to distract themselves with other activities.
A few minutes passed and Astrid looked back at me. "Hey, can I wander off a little?"
"A little."
"A little, hehe!" She giggled before turning around.
"Do you have some currency to spend?"
Running in place without moving, she hastily looked back. "Nope. But I won't be buying anything—"
Such a blunt lie. She's a girl. Of course she will say this and whine about how I should've been considerate later.
Without wasting words, I threw one of the two pouches I had received in exchange for the knives and vases I had "borrowed" from Jayden's castle. I won't justify my actions, however; that elk looking rascal deserved it. No matter what anyone says.
As I saw Astrid run off, I turned back around. Looking at Isolde, I gestured with my head. "Let's go."
"I will burn you to your bones, human." She bristled.
"You do not even deserve to talk to me, much less order me around." She continued, seething through her teeth.
"Unless you want me to slap your teeth out, do not utter another word, girl." I flicked my hand and motioned for her to follow me. Not looking behind, or making any attempt to gauge her reaction, I continued walking.
The clamouring of patrolling soldiers, sizzle of food, clanking machinery and heavy grunting of workers coupled with loud but tired strings of curses drowned out the heavy, grumpy—pretentious footfalls of Isolde who followed me after a brief moment of contemplation.
If I was in her shoes, I would have silently followed the one in control of me too. It applies more to a sheltered princess who hasn't had a taste of the real world; staying cooped up inside her giant mansion, miles away from difficulties of the world.
Of course, even the castle itself had its own sets of problems, and seeing how desperate she looks to impress her father, I am sure she is bound to feel like she's suffocating even more than the others. But it still doesn't change my initial statement.
She is a sheltered princess.
Looking around myself, I tried to take in the general layout of the city.
The walls of the city curved in a way that reminded me of the angles of a hexagon.
Rising to nearly 40 metres in height, the walls looked quite formidable in their scale, and it created quite an imposing boundary that encircled the city like a perfectly fitted armour. The stones that constituted these walls were laid with such precision that it was surprising even for me who had seen modern architecture.
There's always something about ancient architecture that makes you question the modern one. Just one look at it and a decently educated person could understand that every aspect was calculated, not just for defence but for enduring stability.
Turrets rose at regular intervals along the walls, with extremely consistent placement.
Like the points of a crown, the turrets gave the walls an almost regal appearance, each one manned by the city's border patrol.
Observing them from a distance, I noticed the way they stood—alert, disciplined, and unmoving. The archers were the ones who moved the most, arrows stretched constantly and arcanum blistering at the tip like an explosive, following someone random – maybe someone they were suspicious of – and then moving to someone else.
A few of those patrol members wielded staffs, long and hewn from a dark wood that appeared invisible in the constant dark of Lawold. Others had swords strapped to their hips.
A little mischievousness suddenly bubbled inside me.
Arcanum flowed from my main mode, brightening up the arcane art embedded into my being as I flicked my wrist.
A weak, completely non harmful blunt force of forcefield perambulated towards them and then dissipated a few inches away, swirling and dissipating like the morning mist.
I felt their bodies tangibly bristle as they suddenly went into a hushed, systematic frenzy that lasted only a few moments before they composed themselves.
Arrows were drawn, quivers were adjusted, spears were drawn, swords were unsheathed and arcanum started to turn into elements of nature around their staffs as they looked in every direction.
Hiding behind a tall man, I walked side-by-side with him, atypically proud of myself.
"You should be ashamed of yourself." Isolde chimed rudely, effortlessly keeping pace with me as the tall man took a turn and left me without a cover.
And there goes the little fun I was having. And I am hailed as the ultimate mood killer.
Not paying much heed to the pubescent calf's words, I kept walking.
There were signboards hanging with semi-rusty chains everywhere – corners, intersections, conjoining roads and even shops – which made it quite easy to navigate through and know where exactly I was.
We were currently walking in the Southern Industrial Zone; South Sarton.
Sarton was the name of the 'non-royal' half of Lawold. All industries were present in Sarton.
The "South Industrial Zone" or "SIZ" for short is primarily reserved for manual labour – people being paid the lowest and undertaking the most physically taxing tasks – and some industrial activities.
After reaching the 'Intersection 11,' I looked up at the board. It had a white background with blue coloured base for the white letters. An arrow pointed towards the left and said 'Iron Clad District.' Another one motioned for a straight street towards 'Sarton Steelworks' and the other one indicated that taking the first right exit led to 'Titan Foundry.'
Since there were no better places on any signboard that were close by, I decided to take a quick tour of the outskirts of this 'IronClad District.'
"I am not moving one step forward." Isolde suddenly stomped her feet. "This is unbecoming of me. Are you trying to make a mockery out of me?!" Her voice raised as I toned down the volume of her words. "I am the heir to the throne. And you are a pathe—"
Her face was flushed red while she talked.
"Isolde." I spoke, my voice loud despite me whispering. She stopped talking, all of a sudden.
"Have you ever been punched in the face for no reason?"
Her words came to a sudden, surprised halt as I stared at her half-covered face over my shoulder. After a few seconds of stupefied silence, I started walking again. "I guessed so."
The sound of her footsteps fell faint at first and then soon disappeared from the normal hearing range of an 'ordinary' human. It's not like I cared about what happens to her. The only reason I couldn't bring myself to kill her was because of a ramification that will bite me in the future.
While this was something Jayden himself said I could do and was in accordance with their 'laws,' I am quite sure a bounty would still be placed on my head. Just because Jayden went along with the formality, doesn't mean he would want a human to kill his off-spring. I am well aware of the tolerance levels of both—Olvasens and Cromwells.
I paused, the silence behind me signalling her distance. Only when her footsteps returned, soft but distinct within that familiar range, did I continue walking.
A long rectangular board with an arrowhead that was dirtier than the gutter I had just passed had the words 'IronClad' written on it; barely visible.
And much to my surprise, the district was much smaller than I had thought. Built inside a square fencing, the 'houses' were 3 storey buildings in 3 rows and 6 columns. The 3 rows – or streets – were Coal Street, Anvil Road and Forge Lane. Coal street was the one in the forefront with 6 buildings in rapid succession. The material used in building all of these was bright sandy in colour.
Adjacent to Coal Street was Forge Lane which seemed dirtier than Coal Street and at the very back was Anvil Road which was the exit from this district. Clothes were hanging on small lines outside the narrow windows.
I wonder how people dry their clothes here. I mean; there's no sun. And the general temperature of this place was quite cold. Each house or building had a sequential numbering with a prefix "IC" like IC-101, IC-102 etcetera, etcetera.
All of the houses in this region were small, tightly packed row buildings, each with a small front yard which had grass in light green and dark purple shade while some of them had a few flowers but they were very rare.
I walked towards the Anvil Road and exited the place, and rejoined the main 'road' which led to other places while walking on the mud-caked sidewalk. Thankfully I was wearing calf-length leather boots, so getting my clothes dirty or having the mud seep into my shoes was not of concern.
I was about to take the entrance to 'Ashen Alley' when a certain someone walked out. Michael's hair was dishevelled and he was fastening the belt of his pants. His bright amber eyes flicked towards me and then creased, his lips moving up in a condescending grin.
"'Sup."
"Nothing." I closed my eyes and continued walking.
Matching his pace with me, he stared at me. "Yo, Arth—nevermind, listen here, you retard."
"What?"
"I've been thinking." He spoke, his voice sharp and sandpapery. Suddenly his arcanum fluctuated.
"When was the first time we spoke?"
I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
My head moved slowly towards him. His eyes were focused on me, his features hardened. My eyes caught a glimpse of a red mark along his jaw but they met his eyes once again. His pupil was super contracted and I could feel a very thin layer of arcanum right underneath his epidermis.
"When we were 6?" I shrugged and continued walking.
His feet came to a sudden halt.
I didn't look back. I had no need to do it. I could already tell his intent, or his state of mind.
I looked over my shoulder. "Were you expecting me to not remember?"
"I uhh—" For the first time I saw him stammering, his forehead creased in a deep, contemplative frown.
"Yeah, nevermind. Just wanted to ask." The active arcanum turned incorporeal and drifted off into the air, new, ambient motes of them taking its place and travelling inside him.
It was an educated guess. Bringing heirs to Fjellborg before 6 was not recommended. Mostly because the average age of heirs awakening their arcane arts was around 6 years old. This data was calculated and derived from the main version of 'Syndicate Historia.'
Taking into consideration the fact that our generation has been much more active and powerful than our predecessors at our age due to Eden's Arcanum slowly slipping into the earth and filling it, I expected all of us to be awakened by the time we were 6. The youngest amongst us are Michael and myself. The rest are either 1 or 2 years older than us.
Not so sure about Yuki. Her sister – Yui Watanabe – was 3 years older than me.
"Where's Astrid?" Michael suddenly asked, looking around.
"Uh, I don't know." I blurted out, arching my eyebrows up as I felt a little drowsy.
There were a lot of things going on as of now. And my main objective of finding out what happened to my memories – very specific ones – is being progressively pushed back to the absolute limits. Less and less time is being dedicated towards it, which in itself doesn't sound like that much of an alarming issue; but on a personal level, it is.
"The fuc—" Michael looked around with a dumbfounded look. He turned back and Isolde's footfalls which had muted again fell into my range again. "I admit Isolde's hot but why the fuck did you abandon the other one?"
A scowl creeped up to my face and I kept silent for a while. Once I felt him getting angry, I spoke up. "She said she wanted to roam around, a little. Maybe some alone time."
"Dude…" Michael sighed, pressing the bridge of his nose, "…you were supposed to go along- you know what? Since you won't take the chance, I will."
An uncomfortable feeling suddenly pushed bile to the back of my throat and my head jerked in his direction.
His lips quirked up.
Frowning, I looked away. "I know where she is so I have no need to personally accompany her."
Michael looked up at the sky, closed his eyes and then turned towards the south-east. "Ahh-" He exasperated. "-it's weird how bright her signature is. Did you not teach her to conceal her presence?"
I shrugged. "It's concealed. To the best of her abilities."
"No fucking way…" He closed his eyes once again.
The cat was already out of the bag. There was no use hiding it.
"Oh damn, it really is suppressed…" His voice kept trailing off as he talked, "…I can see why you've been keeping white ratatouille around."
"It has nothing to do with that."
"Oh, so you just love her then?"
"Do I?"
Michael snorted, popping his knee by folding it upwards and coming to a quick stop before moving again. "I don't know. You tell me." He craned his neck to the left. "Feels like you do. And not, at the same time. It's weird."
He raised his hand in a placating manner. "I am not into this love bullshit anyways. Nothing good ever comes out of it."
He shrugged and let his hands dangle to the side. "Just fuck around and enjoy your life. Too short of a lifespan to fall in love and stay dedicated."
His amber eyes shifted towards me. "Oh yeah, uncle must be thinking this new generation is so out of hand."
I looked away, rolling my eyes. "Who am I to judge?"
"So do ya love her orrrr—you marinating her?"
The answer was clear.
"Not sure."
Very, very clear.
"Just going with the flow."
Amidst the obscurity of my memories and the haze surrounding my thoughts, only a handful of things were clear. And this was one of those things.
"And that's it."
"Boring." He let out a loud huff, causing a few people to look in our directions.
Their eyes travelled towards us – our attire and then up at the projection of horns jutting out of our temples and heads. Every time someone would look at our horns, they'd either recoil away in terror, leave the pavement for us to walk with plenty of room or just totally look down and freeze in one place.
Isolde's footfalls came to a sudden, panicked halt and I felt her bristle, arcanum bursting out of her body.
Michael shivered, and while they seemed to grasp it instantly, I caught on a moment later. Following Isolde and Michael's gaze upward, I narrowed my eyes.
The people around us, still frozen in their deep bows, had their eyes wide open, staring at the sky as if something had taken hold of them. Though their bodies remained bent, their focus never wavered from what loomed above.
At first glance, the sky looked wrong, as if it had been dealt a violent blow. Cracks spread out from an invisible impact point, jagged lines splitting through the clouds like fractured glass. And then, a faint dome-shaped structure flickered in and out of existence.
One second, it shimmered faintly, barely there, and in the next, it blinked out of view. The shift was jarring, like the dome was on the verge of collapsing or slipping from its reality. The following instant, the cracks hanging in the sky seemed to shift, moving from that distant place and transferring onto the dome itself. The dome began to break apart, pieces of it falling away.
Blue light from the low-hanging moon reflected off the jagged fragments as they drifted downward, a stark contrast to the heavy, grey sky that stretched behind it.
A hushed murmur escaped Michael's lips.
Something black in colour arched in mid-air and fought against the rising and falling dome akin to the chest of someone hyperventilating. The darkness that ensued in the wake of the black projectile covered everything, and despite the progressively increasing arcanum augmentation into my eyes, I was losing sight. I had to touch my eyes to make sure they were not closed. Michael's arcanum was burning hot but even the signature lacked any shine. Just the hot, burning sensation of it materialising.
In the distance I felt Astrid's signature glow a little brighter- the only lone star still somewhat vibrant in the sea of ever-increasing darkness. My heart settled in the pits of my stomach as I fell to my knees. And so did everyone. A heavy veil of something that had far transcended the usual feel of arcanum I was used to weighed down on us.
And then a moment later, my eyes were assaulted by light so bright that I had to press the base of my palm against my eyes for a good minute before daring to open them.
When I did, I blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the disorientation and the rising urge to throw up. I turned my head sideways, taking in everything. A lot of people had lost consciousness. Michael was the first to come to his senses, however; he was still tapping his temples, as if trying to get something out of his ears. My attention was immediately drawn up to the sky- the place where so many cracks and a dome had appeared.
The sky was still shattered, however; the dome's rising and falling had been subdued. Whatever the black projectile, or person was, it had somehow mitigated it.
The realisation dawned a bit too late.
Due to the recent events, we totally forgot the merger is happening… and from the looks of it, I do not think we have more than 2 days. And while the disparity of time between Earth and Eden is quite a lot, it has been merging for quite some time. It will not be the same as it was 200 years ago.
"Fucking hell…" Michael exclaimed, his eyes glowing like molten gold, "…it felt like my heart was on fire."
Looking back, I saw Isolde still in a daze, looking at the sky with her mouth agape.
"I'll go get Astrid." I spoke up as Michael frowned.
He shook his head and then stood in front of me. "I'll do it. You go take this airheaded bitch back."
"Right…" I felt my eyes narrow.
"Oh, for fuck's sake, I am not that much of an asshole to do anything to her."
The clamorous clanging of border patrol and police filled the air as they started to hastily exit a seven-story building in a swift manner, filling the streets with groups of 2. I took a step back and then looked at Michael. He cast a sidelong glance at me and then nodded.
"The bridge. In 5 minutes."
"This is the first and last time I want to hear an order from you." He growled grumpily.
I nodded and he left, weaving amidst the increasing personnel of the border patrol.
Isolde was still in her wide-eyed reverie. "Descended…he descended…" She muttered through dried, cracked lips.
Maybe I should just leave her here.
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