“Blimey. Must this thing always itch?” Elmer grumbled in silence as he alighted from the public carriage he’d boarded onto the walkway on the opposite street of the orb of fate pub.
His face was scrunched visibly due to the frustration layered over his being, one which had emerged from his inability to effectively ease the itchiness his cheeks and chin were having.
It was not that he could not scratch them and curb the small but annoying itches that was bothering him; it was just that his fingers being beneath leather gloves prevented his attempts from satisfying himself. The only option he had now was to quickly get himself down into the Black Market so he could take off his gloves and do the deed. Out here, in the cold significant to this time of the year, there was no way he could do that. His hands would redden and freeze up, and they too would itch.
Knowing that he could do nothing about his uncomfortability, Elmer bore with it and brought before his eyes his silver pocket watch, clicking it open.
“Eighteen minutes past eight,” he mumbled as he shut the timepiece and dipped it back into his vest’s pocket.
Elmer had already confirmed in secret before he’d alighted from the carriage that no one he knew was present at the orb of fate pub.
He’d done that using his divination pendant, directing the prayer at everyone he had a noticeable connection with, except the barman who worked at the pub. The pendant not shaking violently had given him his answer then, so he had himself relaxed a tad from the thought of being seen by someone he knew.
Well, his postiche would no doubt mask his features a bit regardless, but he knew that such a charade would crumble under enough scrutiny.
Taking a moment’s wait, Elmer watched from the edge of the walkway—along with the other people who seemed to be sharing the same thoughts as he—as the steam cars and carriages congesting the area took their lovely time freeing the roadway up.
The increasingly volume of honks mixed in with the less energetic snorts of pulling horses helped Elmer realize how much the Foreign District had changed ever since the arrival of snow.
The beauty this area of Ur usually had in contrast to the rest was missing.
People were no longer garbed in varying flamboyant outfits. They were now dressed all the same, in thick overcoats of either black or brown, and sometimes white, with leather gloves and sturdy boots and shoes in order to keep out the cold.
The sun as well was nowhere to be found in the sky spreading any warmth. And the myriads of buildings, which used to be all so colorful, were now painted indistinguishably in the tinge of snow.
The Foreign District, at this moment, no longer differed from any other place in Ur. It was of the same whiteness as any other District or Borough.
“Well, at least it still has some of its beauty at night,” Elmer mentioned to himself with downturned lips and an indiscernible shrug under his cold breath. And it was then that the honks and snorts finally reduced in intensity as a narrow space opened up on the road for crossing.
With his hands now placed suggily within the confinements of his jacket’s pockets, across Elmer went, joining the horde of people, to the other side of the street.
Differing from the rest of the gentlemen, and ladies, and children, who just went on with walking to their destinations with either canes in their hands to complete their diligent attire, or umbrellas to catch the falling snow, Elmer stopped before the door of the orb of fate pub. There, he allowed himself a moment to look through the left one of the frosted bullseye windows which flanked it. And since it was neither covered by curtains, nor completely obscured to prevent any sort of view, he was able to make out, with a squint, the ponytailed youthful barman in his working dress of a white shirt tucked into black trousers with an apron around his waist, cleaning the accent tables spread out within the interior.
Elmer sighed at that, took his right hand out of his jacket’s pocket, and forced the brim of his flat cap lower in hopes that it would at least cover his face a bit more. After that he activated his spiritual eyesight and turned his voice hoarse with the spirituality essence of gray, before walking into the pub, leaving the jingles of the door bell behind him.
As soon as he found himself within the walls of the establishment, the morose state of feeling he’d been in vanished at once. The heat caused by the large intricately made hearth burning beside the performance dais had taken over his body and wiped away every single trace of cold he’d been exposed to.
Of course the chilly weather would have been of very little problem to him if only he could make charms. The amount of heat he could create from the essence of warmth to wrap himself with could barely fight against the cold of winter. And since he could not imbue random items with it, seeing as they would crumble down, that meant he could not have a portable hearth in his pocket.
If only—
Elmer’s brows suddenly furrowed as he had an idea rush into his head.
Yes! He could try that!
Clearing his throat, Elmer walked further into the pub, his right hand holding the tip of his cap firmly in order to obscure his face as much as he could.
“Good morning,” he greeted with his now-rough pitched voice, and completely dragged the attention of the barman toward him.
“Good morning,” the barman greeted back and immediately resumed his cleaning. “We’re not yet open,” he told Elmer. “Come back by twelve.”
“Black Market,” Elmer said instantly. The more time he spent, the more it would make it easier for the barman to recognize him.
“You know the way, I suppose?” the barman said immediately, then turned toward the burly figure of a man standing before a single door beside the bar area, and giving an indistinct bob of his head.
Elmer nodded to no one after he’d heard the barman’s words. “I do.”
And with that he proceeded past the first door and its guard, the second and its guards, and arrived within the skyless area that was the Black Market, his voice-masking quickly put to a stop having completed its mission.
As expected the place was stuffy and filled. The smell of sweat mixed in with different scents of perfume and cologne rampaged through the air, making breathing somewhat uncomfortable.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
There was also the never ending chatter of the distinct people in the congested area, bringing about the sort of noise that had the tendency of deafening a newborn baby whose earlobes had not yet developed.
Well, he was not here to dissect and rate the ambience of the market. He just had to do what he’d come here to and leave.
Grabbing the opportunity he had gotten from being in a stuffy environment without the chilly air, Elmer took off his gloves, and finally gave his face the satisfaction it had sought out by easing its itchiness with his neatly trimmed fingernails. After which he exhaled as though he had achieved some sort of divine ecstasy.
Done with his scratches, Elmer took the first step onto the one-way street that made up the Black Market, his main goal involving seeking out the plain shop where he’d always bought his ingredients.
There was no other shop he’d had as much interactions concerning the supernatural with, so his instinct was leading him there as his first attempt to tackle his language barrier problems.
Through his frustratingly slowed movements amongst the midst of the cluster of rowdy people filling his way, Elmer suddenly had an enlightening thought wander into his head. One his brain had come across a while back, but he had not dived too deep into it then.
Putting what he saw of the complete varying ambience of the hundreds of individuals crowding this area that was the Black Market, alongside the wonders of the supernatural, he instantly came to a pretty obvious conclusion that each person here, or few people, hailed from different cities than the other.
He was not basing this on wishful thinking, he was quite sure with his deduction.
Most were dressed in the clothes befitting of the winter that was overhead Ur at the moment, and even though he knew nothing of how the other cities operated, he was not expecting the climate to be different in any way. At least, every single person in this area should have been dressed in somewhat similar attires.
But that was not the case.
There were people in clothings he’d never seen before, even to the point that they were indescribable. It made them seem alien to him, like they did not belong in the same terrain as men in suits and daytime vests, and ladies in beautiful embroidered gowns.
The clothes of some were extremely large and of countless layers that the only part of their bodies visible were their toes through their sandals, and their eyes along with the bridges of their noses. It was almost like they’d garbed themselves to fend off the cold, but Elmer knew it was not that. It seemed as though they were fending off something else wherever they’d hailed from; a force of nature far worse than snow and the cold that came with it.
Some others were garbed in attires that spelled countryside, but one careful look at them and Elmer could see that they did not have the face of ignorance. Having been one of such before, he knew the countenance befitting that state of being all too well.
Furthermore, there were those in tunics and breeches and roughspun dresses, clothes that if worn in Ur at this current state of time would no doubt mean inevitable death.
Some of those people in those shabby wears were of skins darker than ebony, and they had deep black eyeshadows, lines, and brows, along with lips of the same color. It was also the same for their fingernails and toenails. And these qualities they shared between both male and female.
Their dressings reminded Elmer of a person he’d come across on his first day within this space; only that young man had seemed to be amongst the majority who had fair skins and were without the eyeshadows as well as the rest of the standout looks the dark-skinned people had.
He also saw individuals garbed in wears which indicated knighthood—all without their armors and helms though.
They obviously knew better than to wear such sweat inducing materials within such a place.
Their dressings were mostly of either velvet or leather surcoats, but some were of chain mails and tabards. The only thing in common between them were the sheathed swords around their waist, the leather bracers and gloves that made up their hands, and the crests imprinted on the chest of their wears.
And even the last of the aforementioned still brought up a difference that shared the knightly dressed people into two parties.
Some of the crests were of a golden shield showcasing a kingly figure with a longsword raised up high while standing upon a horde of bodies piled upon each other. While the others were of a four leaf clover over something that resembled a rock.
The former design Elmer knew all too well due to the history lessons Mistress Eleanor had made sure he’d participated in. It was that of the empire of Fitzroy.
As for the latter, from the personal studies he’d done himself on the supernatural, he instantly recalled it to be the crest of the Pathway of Earth. The crest of the city of Burkney.
Elmer narrowed his brows as an explanation for why there were two different crests for knights entered his head.
Is this something like the pirates of Wyndham…? For Burkney, Ascenders are knights or something of the sort…?
He suddenly, but swiftly, shifted away from the jam packed lane he was on as a young man ran past the crowd, seemingly unbothered by how tight it was.
No one was chasing him, and so Elmer did not dwell on whatever reason the stranger had for disrupting people’s conversations due to his rushes.
Although, because of that unprecedented situation, Elmer’s thoughts and eyes had shifted from the knights and their affiliations toward another set of dressing.
This one was that which he loved the most. That which he would do anything to be a part of concerning what sort of powers he’d termed their kind with.
It was the dressing of pirates!
Tricorn hats, bandanas, waist sashes bearing either cutlasses, rapiers, daggers, or pistols. They were the most eye-catching to Elmer, simply because of his never ending fantasies.
But his longing had only been for a second before a bump into his shoulder reminded him of why he was in the Black Market and all that he had done and had to do.
Sailing the seas and playing pirates was something he would never engage in—he could never engage in. Saving Mabel was the only thing he had to focus on.
One more thought lingered though, and that was how the security of this establishment fared.
Every time he’d come to this place he’d never once paid any entrance fee, or even been patted down to avoid bringing in weapons, and a mere look around told him that it was the same for every other city the individuals here hailed from.
The only explanation he could think of was that this market was actually being run by the Church, or rather, the Synod of Churches, if not such a large number of people would never have access to this sort of place. That was unless it was being run by an individual larger than the Church—maybe the Emperor himself?
Well, if that was the case then it still did not change the question he had bugging him.
Though, the only way for him to get an answer to that was to cause a bit of trouble. And he knew better than to do that, for it would not only bring attention to himself, but also cause him a whole lot of problems—ones which he did not want.
Considering how nobody was having any arguments with themselves, he was of the mind that the security in here would not be of the same kind as the burly guards outside. It would be something far deep into the supernatural so much that it could handle hundreds of Ascenders at once. He did not want to tamper with such.
Best I remain ignorant…
Elmer chuckled, and finally arrived before the plain wooden door that led into the essence elixir’s ingredients shop that was infamous to him. But as he took a step forward in an attempt to enter, something ethereal suddenly tugged at his heart and stopped his motion momentarily, causing him to instinctively take a glance at the dimly lit path beside the shop.
Though Elmer wasted no time leaving his gaze in the alley as a few seconds later he sighed and shook his head. He was not interested in having any painful headache at the moment, so he just walked into the shop instead.