Three days of travel had brought Stefan, Anwen, and Ivan through totally different and unfamiliar landscapes, which varied even more than the ones they saw on their journey to Shargara. As they ventured further south, fields of wheat and corn were replaced with lush rice paddies and sprawling tea and coffee plantations. They seldom traveled through any settlements larger than villages. As they found out simply by sight, the largest northern settlements like Marius would only barely count as towns in the south. South Yeupis was much more densely and highly populated, despite making up only around a third of the continent. Indeed, while north Yeupis had possibly only 100,000 people in total, the south had close to 40 million in population. Thus Jay had made it a good point to avoid large settlements in order to be seen by less eyes, which was on top of the precautions he had made the trio already take.
However, no matter how splendid the views were, it was clear that the monotonous and restrictive method of travel they had to take was getting to them. Ivan complained about how hot it was about every half hour, and Stefan was napping half of the time the car moved, and that was besides the 7 hours of sleep he was permitted to get each night when the trio reached their nightly designated rest stops. Anwen struggled to concentrate on the road when her eyes wanted to drift to the scenery all around her. On top of that, it was only realistic enough for them to eat twice a day: once as they reached their rest stop, and again just before they hit the road again. They were bored and hungry.
“Hey, An—Amara,” Ivan groaned from the back seat of the speeding vehicle. “Do we have to stick exactly to Jay’s plan?”
“If I knew this place a little better, I sure wouldn’t,” she said, eyes glue to the road and hands firmly on the steering wheel. “I know how bored you are, but the town’s only a day away.”
“Exactly!” Ivan exclaimed. “It is only a day away. There won’t be any harm if we just made a quick stop. Here, look,”
Ivan leaned forward into the space between the two front seats, holding the whipping map to Anwen’s right.
“I can’t look! Damn it, have you ever even driven a regular Craft?” Anwen shouted.
“Fine, I’ll just tell it to you then,” Ivan retracted back into his seat. “There’s a fork in the road a quarter league down from here. We take the left division where it’ll take us right into a town called…”
He attempted to try and read its name aloud, but he gave up. The ancient southern tongue would be too complex for him even if he was literate.
“…anyways, I’m sure we can stop by for a half hour and buy a little something to cool off. Then we continue in the same direction we were headed and return to the main road another quarter league down.”
“With what money?” Anwen asked, raising a brow even though Ivan couldn’t see the expression.
“I found copper coins wedged in between the seats. You think I was doing nothing with all the time I have?”
“You’re a resourceful man, Ivan.” Anwen smirked as she looked back, indirectly taking up the man’s suggestion.
--
The business centre of the town of Purkulu was easy to locate, being distinguished by its bustling market with a wide but well-traveled road used by both feet and wheels alike. Stalls on both sides of the streets contained a plethora of enterprises, ranging from chickens caged and ready to be slaughtered, to carts of freshly picked lemons and limes, to stands of ready-to-eat food and drink. In other words, it was an unremarkable southern town.
“That didn’t take long to find.” Anwen said as she took a foot off the gas pedal, allowing it to slow before veering closer to the curb before parking the car.
“What did I say?” Ivan snorted.
Anwen promptly turned around, pressing her index finger perpendicular to her lips.
“You are a slave, Ivan!” she reminded in a hushed tone. “You can’t just talk.”
“Sorry, Amara.” Ivan apologised sheepishly in a hushed tone.
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Next to him, a body aroused from its slumber. Stefan yawned as he woke up from yet another one of his naps.
“So, where are we, and what did I—
Before he could utter another word, Anwen leaned over the driver’s seat and pulled the boy close to her by the shoulders, whispering what she was about to do. Without arguing back, he nodded, and Anwen let go of him.
“Ivan, come with me. We’re going over there,”
Anwen pointed to a particular vendor several dozen feet away whose cart arrangement indicated that he sold some sort of fresh, cold drink.
“I don’t have three hands, so I need you to help me bring that stuff to the car.”
Ivan nodded in acknowledgement as he and Anwen walked to the stand. He felt stares all over his body as he trailed just behind the girl. He knew that all the passersby were aware that he was a slave, but he still felt uncomfortable. He was stronger than any of the southern civilians around him, yet he was powerless to do anything if a confrontation occurred. Not unless he wanted to foil the Black Shield’s desperate, last-ditch plan.
“I’ll have three tall glasses of that good stuff, please.” Anwen spoke in a clear southern accent to the middle-aged vendor who stood on the other side of the cart. Even as he smiled, he couldn’t hold back a brief glance from the slave that this young girl, inevitably the employee of a rich Titanian landowner, had brought with her. But it was none of his business.
“Three glasses of falooda,” the vendor confirmed Anwen’s order. “That’ll be three copper coins, miss.”
Anwen gently placed the coins on the wooden surface of the cart’s table-top, and the vendor promptly began dispensing the sweet pink liquid into three shiny disposable glasses coming straight from a carton.
Meanwhile, Stefan remained in the back seat of the borrowed car. Keeping his gaze inconspicuous, he observed the people walking and driving past him. Despite the color of their skin, the texture of their hair, and their manner of dress, they reminded him of something remarkably familiar. It was the feeling of community. There were people living, working, and playing in this town and in the rest of the south. How much different were they really from northerners?
His thoughtful trance was broken by the sound of a tap at the door opposite the side he was leaning against. He swiveled his head. At first he saw no one, but upon slightly lowering his gaze, he saw the face of a small boy smiling at him, peeking over the door.
“Hiya, mister!” the young boy greeted with an incredibly strong southern accent, even thicker than Jay’s. “Whatcha doin’? Ya look pretty bored.”
“Just waiting for a friend. I’m alright.” Stefan instinctively replied, his tone polite in light of the child’s inquisitiveness.
“Mister, why's your skin so light? I never seen someone whose skin's so light. And you don’t sound like you’re from here. What kind of person are you? Oh, let me guess, you’re a…”
Who does this kid think I am? I’m actually curious. Does he even know what a northerner looks like?
Before the boy could spit his guess out, a rough hand grabbed him and pulled him away from the car.
“Now what did I tell you about speaking to strangers, Arun?” the woman, indisputably the boy’s mother, scolded as she turned him around to face her. “This ain’t the first time we’ve had a conversation like this! Go apologize to that man and—
As the woman’s gaze shifted to Stefan’s face, who only looked on with confusion and curiosity, her expression changed. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together.
“Arun, honey,” she shifted her gaze back towards her son. Her look was no longer stern, instead it clearly bore signs of unease and even fear. “That right there… that man is a northerner. We do not talk to people like that, ever! They are impolite and crude. There are reasons we don’t see ‘em around here, not anymore. I don’t know why one of them ended up here, but you ain’t got nothin’ to do with him, or anyone like him!”
Arun shot a glance at Stefan, who hid the astonishment in his soul. However his mother’s hand quickly returned his gaze back to her eyes.
“We are going home right this instant, Arun!”
She tugged at the boy’s hand, but she was stopped in her tracks by a tall body sheathed in armor. It was like a brick wall as she staggered back. She glanced up, and if there wasn’t a look of horror on her face already, there was one now.
“Is that man causing you any trouble, ma'am?” an unmistakeable Titanian accent echoed from under the armor.
Despite the fear coursing through the woman’s veins, all she could do was stare into the Titanian police officer’s intimidating visor.
“M-My apologies, Mr. Officer. My boy was just wandering about and stumbled upon this car. I- I should’ve kept a closer eye on him.”
The police officer was quiet as he looked down motionlessly at the woman, and then at the boy. The woman stepped back, tightly clutching the confused Arun’s hand.
“I’m so sorry, Officer!” she said before turning around and walking as fast as she could while dragging her son with her, careful not to run in the officer’s presence. The officer continued staring the mother and son down until they left his sight. Then, he turned his gaze to Stefan who had seen the encounter, putting on a stoic face for its entire duration. The boy knew he was multitudes stronger than this mere police officer, but he could not afford to confront him.
“You look awfully pretty for a northerner, friend,” the officer said in a condescending manner as he leaned against the car. “Kind of like what I see when I look at the bathroom mirror each morning. Do you know what you are? What are you?”
What am I, he asks? If he blows my fuse, he’ll know. I’ll be his damn killer!
“Don’t speak much, huh?” the Titanian chuckled. “Oh, that’s fine. I’ll have you booked and once we bring your master into the impound lot, we can ask him. Does that sound good?”
“Hey, you! Officer!” a voice cried out from behind.