CHAPTER 1: A SEA OF PEOPLE

10/2/2 Friday Sunny

This carriage was quite luxurious. Red leather seats, ashwood furnishings and a big window to admire the view. Lavender curtains were drawn half-closed against the harsh light and pillows were stacked against the seat. I had a book laid open, half reading, half watching the scenery blow past.

The train had left the forest a couple hundred clicks–which is military speak for kilometres–back and was now coasting through flower dotted plains. Past the valley on the other side, and I would be venturing into somewhere I’ve never been before. It wasn’t an altogether comfortable thought.

The book clapped shut with a clomp. My shorts rustled against the seat and I pattered to the door. A squeak. In the corridor, there wasn’t another soul.

The mansion back home was never quiet. It was annoying. There would always be maids and footmen bustling about, and if you listened hard enough, you could hear swords clanging in the courtyard. Father always had a penchant for swordfighting.

Nothing wrong with swordfighting, but I had to move to the Eastern atrium just to get away from the clanging.

But now… eerily silent.

I couldn’t even hear the trundle of wheels past the soundproofing. It was a strange feeling, and I didn’t quite understand it.

Towards the front of the train was the dining carriage, with a single waiter standing at the end. They strolled over when I took a seat, and handed me a menu.

“How can I help you this wonderful morning?”

Uhh…

I could feel their eyes burning holes into my head.

My ears flattened in worry. What do I do?

Instead of trying to think up a coherent answer, I focused on the menu. The train served a variety of items, from sandwiches and muffins to sweets and beverages.

I pointed at the image of the pancakes.

“This,” I squeaked.

“You want pancakes with syrup and berries?” The waiter asked, leaning over to take a look.

I nodded eagerly.

“And any drinks?”

He flipped the page over to reveal a dizzying list of beverages and cocktails stretching across several columns. I imagined my eyes going swirly and spinning around at the sight of it.

I skipped past the alcoholic ones, they tasted like catnip on fire. And also anything with caffeine. It wouldn’t do any good for my stomach. That left the fruit juices and… hot chocolate, right next to all the coffees.

I pointed at the hot chocolate.

“Chocolate.”

He said, “and one hot chocolate. Regular or large?”

I looked up, and suddenly all my thoughts flew out of my brain. Intense brown eyes. Staring. Oh no. But they weren’t pretty, it was just that eyes were scary.

“Regular or large?”

“Large.”

“Okay! Anything else?”

I shook my head frantically. He turned away and I breathed a small sigh of relief. Then I noticed the symbol emblazoned across his left shoulder.

Isn't that the Academy shield? I didn’t know the Academy had ties with Grim Baunfield.

A few minutes later, he returned with my food, and I noticed now he was quite tall and lean, like a beanpole. It made me want to laugh.

I went for the pancake first. It was amazing. I loved how the honeyed syrup flavour mixed the fruity blueberry tang. The chocolate, on the other hand, was a nice milky texture, but wasn’t quite sweet enough.

Nothing 4 packets of sugar couldn’t solve.

We pulled into Emba station a couple hours later. I had my face glued against the window, staring at the high, arching lines that ran across the station roof. Emba station was a testament to architectural genius. It was iconic.

I’d always wanted to see it in person, because I’d heard visitors talk about the refurbished station. And it was awe-inspiring. Tall spires stretched into the ceiling and supports spun out like many metallic spiderwebs. Very geometric. Very cool.

Despite the marvellous architecture, it did look like the whole thing would topple over at any moment. I was surprised that anyone allowed such an unbalanced looking design. It had three central supports reaching up along the North-South axis and awnings stretching out and downwards across its several platforms. The whole thing looked like a deformed umbrella.

I giggled.

My giggling stopped when I stepped onto the platform minutes later. Riyemba city was sweltering hot. I pulled off my jacket immediately.

Then hugged it to my chest because wearing only a shirt made me feel naked.

Outside the Western gate were taxi ranks and escorts. I looked for a “stout man with a bushy beard”, who I was told was my chauffeur. I found him at the far end of the road, smoking a cigar while leaning on the bonnet of a fancy looking car, dressed in a khaki coloured shirt with the top button undone. I recognised him as Johanne, one of Father’s bodyguards. Father must have sent him here to protect me. So unnecessarily overprotective. I’m not going to get robbed out here.

We exchanged greetings and headed off. It was wonderful to ride along well paved roads. The ones back home had little potholes everywhere, and would always jolt you when you least expected it. We drove around Lake Barka, away from the city and into a more suburban district. I was surprised by how close the Academy was to the city, since a military academy had to require a lot of space.

We arrived at Gilbert’s Hotel, a grand place with tall doors, wide sweeping stairs and a flashy chandelier. The hotel sat at the foot of the hill below the Academy, about fifteen minutes from the central business district by tram.

Convenient.

I presented my student card to the receptionist and she led me to my room upstairs.

The room was comfortable and cozy. There was a window on the back wall, a small bed on the right hand corner, a wardrobe opposite and a door to the bathroom beside it. I threw my suitcase on the floor and myself on the bed, savouring the soft covers and the fluffy pillows.

As I lay there, I thought about Father, and his retreating figure as the station became smaller and smaller. It felt like the emotions hadn’t quite set in yet. The reality of leaving home.

I twisted to the window. It was still light, so I got up and left the hotel. I should spend my afternoon getting to know the city.

Johanne told me that there was one tram that ran by the hotel every ten minutes, and getting off at the fifth stop would take me to the edge of the urban area. The fifth stop, called Tania’s Crossing, was a crossroads with a large road separating the market and residential area. Directly across from me was a city square with a giant fountain. It had the Sun Plaque–a symbol of the sun in the center of a triangle–but this one had several bigger triangles rotating around it, creating a trippy optical illusion. I took a closer look.

The fountain was at the centre of the city square, so there were plenty of people even at to-evening. Looking down into the wide base, I could see glittery coins lying at the bottom.

Stolen novel; please report.

I tilted my head, wondering why there were coins lying at the bottom of the fountain and whether I should call the soldiers to find the owner.

I must have been staring at the shinies for too long, because someone stepped up beside me.

“Are you wondering why there are coins in the fountain pool?”

Hm? I took a moment to process what I heard.

No way. A mind reader. I didn’t even sense any magic. How are they doing that? Ranged Telepathy is a third level spell and they would need to be at least two levels higher–

“Yeah, a lotta tourists from up North are confused by the Holy Fountain.”

I silently cursed my over dramatic imagination and turned to her, finding a confident, tallish girl with jet black hair slouched beside me, roguish smile making her look a little snake-like.

“You look foreign,” she remarked.

I looked down at myself, then gave a questioning tilt of the head. I looked pretty normal, as far as I could tell. Darkish shirt and baggy shorts. It should fit right in.

“Seriously?” She remarked, “you’re paler than a street sign. You look like a goddamn lighthouse!”

She laughed. It was a throaty sound, like a cackling crow.

Looking at my hands, I realised she was right. I was white as a sheet, whereas everyone else was tanned from the hot Verlaisian sun. I suddenly found myself very conscious of my hands, so I shoved them behind my back.

Seeing that, the girl cackled harder, before finally stopping and wiping away a tear.

“You’re hilarious. I’ve completely forgotten what I was talking about… That’s right, the fountain. Yeah, the coins are an offering to the Triad and a prayer for good fortune. Sort of a ritual to toss a coin whenever you enter the city, I guess,” she said and put her hands on her hips, as if satisfied with her explanation..

I thought I understood. An offering for good fortune. I guess I should offer the most valuable coin I have then.

I reached into my coin pouch and fished out a gold coin, with its six petaled flower imprint. She gave a start and quickly folded my hand around it.

“Hey, what are you doing, trying to toss a goddamn Auber into the fountain?” she asked in a shrill whisper.

My ears shot up. I tensed, and stared at the hands covering mine. It was cool. I could feel rough calluses. My breathing quickened. Not good.

“Hey, you alright?” She asked, sounding distant.

She let go of my hands and shook my shoulders, jolting me awake.

“Hey, kid, you good?”

I seemed to be, so I nodded. Thankful for the messy hair covering my eyes.

“Your face is all red, you sure you’re good?”

“Mhmm,” I nodded frantically, stepping back out of her grasp.

I took a deep breath.

And another.

And when I felt a little better, I turned to the girl, whose name I still didn’t know.

“I’m… okay,” I squeaked.

I tried to hide my hands again, but remembered the gold coin was still inside. It was so glossy I could see my flustered complexion, the golden hue giving me a jaundiced look. The coins in the fountain were all sinks and cunis, with some agems smattered about.

I supposed Aubers were quite valuable. The gold went back and I tossed a silver agem instead. It made a pretty little splash and we watched it sink to the bottom.

She stared a little longer.

“Kid, you gotta watch out, yeah? Foreigners like you get eaten up like river fish in the ocean in a city like Riyemba,” she said, and left with a quick wave.

I stared after her, a little dumbfounded by the speedy goodbye. Within moments she was swallowed by the sea of people.

Were there more than before?

I sighed. She was like a whirlwind, just whipping through a conversation with no thought to spare.

I set off deeper into the city, wandering from stall to stall, admiring the local goods. Not long later, my stomach was grumbling. I’d just strolled into the food court and my nose couldn’t resist the delectable allure of meat.

I locked in on the closest source of meat, which happened to be a kebab stall with a pot bellied man.

I waved away a plume of smoke and approached him. He had a singlet and was wiping sweat while turning kababs with a pair of black tongs.

“Gavon’s Kebabs! Whaddya want?” He called in a gruff voice.

Gavon, presumably, had about twenty mouth watering meat sticks spinning around, so I pointed at the three juiciest looking ones.

“Two lambs and a steak kebab! Thats 6 sinks.”

I held out an agem, it was the smallest I had. Gavon’s eyes went wide. He took the agem and gave me three kebabs, so I bit into one.

Immediate regret.

Wayyyyy too freaking hot.

I doubled over, tears in my eyes, sputtering and gasping.

“Boy, you good?” The stallholder asked, leaning around the furnace.

I spat out the little chunk I’d ripped out, and seeing the piece of meat on the floor, died a little inside.

I raised a shaky thumb…

And stood up, fanning my mouth.

He had seven cunis in his hand, and was grabbing another two sinks.

“Leave the change,” I murmured.

He raised his head, “what did you say?”

“Leave the change,” I repeated, a little louder.

The man almost fell out of his chair.

“No, no, no, you take it. I’m not taking a tip that's eight times the original. Keep it, go buy something yummy,” he exclaimed.

“Like more kebabs, or…?”

“Sure, if you manage to finish those, come back for more.”

I took the change. Clearly he didn’t know how much meat a cat could eat.

I gently bit into the oily delicacy, gasping at the burst of spice and tammamine, and wandered off through the Riyemban streets.

By the time the street lamps turned on, I was walking along the edge of the crowded courtyard and chewing on a chili squid kebab. I knew I’d regret eating the spice later, but it just tasted too good.

Suddenly, something crashed into me, sending me stumbling forward. I turned around to find a small, hooded figure running off. They had my pouch in their hands, dropping coins as they ran.

“Curse me!” I muttered, and ran after the thief.

I shoved my way through the crowd and weaved between stalls, ignoring the angry shrieks coming my way. I was faster, my long legs carrying me over crates and benches and around corners. I was closing in.

I raised my right hand and took aim while manifesting my spell.

Just a little longer…

“Lightstrike!”

The thief turned a corner as my Lightstrike fired. It only glanced off their shoulder before they stumbled into cover.

I ran to the opening, another spell ready, but the thief was leant against the wall, hood down, clutching their bleeding shoulder.

“You, where’s my money?” I hiss.

“Don’t have it,” he huffed.

A Lightstrike slammed into the wall beside him, sending stone cracking.

“I asked a question, runt.”

“I don’t know,” he whined, “I gave it to Eric two blocks back.”

I stared at him. He was trembling with fear, cowering away like a rat on a wall. If what he said was true, then I wasn’t getting my money back.

“Take your cloak off.”

“Wheh?!”

I charged some magic, and that cloak came off faster than I could devour a meatstick.

“Turn around. Arms up.”

I patted him down. Nothing. As I thought, the runt hadn’t been lying.

His shoulder was bleeding, but I didn’t have much sympathy for him. He would be fine anyway. It was a shallow cut.

“Turn around.”

He obeyed. I took a good look at him. Flickering brown eyes. Dark skinned. Dusty hair. Thin frame, probably from malnutrition. He looked about six years younger than me. Scrappy clothes, and now, a cloak with a rip down the shoulder.

I did feel a little bad for him…

I gave a mirthless laugh, “if I had money, I would’ve given you some.”

The poor thing was quivering like a wet leaf.

I patted him, then grabbed his head and said, “the next time I see you, you better not be sticking your fingers down my pockets. I don’t care if you’re robbing someone else, but stay away from me. Now scram!”

I let go and the runt ran off.

Suddenly I felt all of my energy drain out of me. I wanted to slump against the wall and cry. Bawl my eyes out. The runt was gone, so that’s what I did. Ears down, tail limp, my face in my hands.

Fuck.

I’d just been robbed of every cent I had, on my first day in Riyemba, and I had taken out my anger by bullying a nine year old child.

I briefly considered staying here and sulking all night, but that was just begging to be robbed a second time. I thought I knew the way to the tram stop, so I trudged back down the street.

The smell of food made me want to puke. In fact, I was surprised I hadn’t puked already. I felt sick. Hollowed out. In a way I was.

I wanted to get away, to escape from this dreadful place, but I felt like I was moving through water.

Step.

Step.

Step.

Kicked a pebble. As if that would change anything.

Watched it roll into the gutter. Kindred spirit.

I somehow found my way back to the tram stop and board. And get off.

By now I could see the luxuriant Gilbert's Hotel, now far more inviting with warm magilights shining along the path and the windows illuminated from within. I moved a bit faster.

My boots clicked along the foyer floor and I ascended the stairs quickly. Without even looking, I threw open the door and launched myself onto the bed, intending to curl up and ignore my problems, only to land on something hard and rough.

I groaned, rubbing my stomach and standing up to look at… my coin pouch. There it was, with its silky brown stitches, gold and silver coins peeking out, and its string cut apart. As real as the throbbing pain in my stomach.