Now Amelia was in Orctown.
Down south, near the city walls and surrounding the famous sports Coliseum, laid an expanse of ethnic neighborhoods where different races would create their cultural homes. Even though Fleettwixt was a melting pot of cultures and lifestyles, each group tended to want to stick with their own kind at least for the closest of bonds. And thus the ethnic neighborhoods sprang up over time, forming little enclaves of nations far, far beyond the seas.
Sometimes, like with the fauns or the goblins, these neighborhoods hardly stretched on past a single city block. But the more populous groups like dwarves and gnomes had large areas of town around the Coliseum that served their favorite foods and had signs in the languages of their homelands. Orcs, the third-most-populous race in Fleettwixt, had the biggest ethnic neighborhood of them all.
(Humans, being as they were, lived far away to the east in “New Saxonia,” by Portside. That told one what they needed to know about the nature of humans’ relations with the other glossal races.)
Amelia had a difficult time focusing on the neighborhood around here thanks to the revelation she received after absorbing that guard golem earlier, whose head she currently carried under her arm.
Ed Winback... A doctor. Less than two years since they had been separated, and already she had already climbed to the top of the academic ladder.
It almost brought a tear to Amelia’s eye, if she had the ability to form one. Her girlfriend was one of the most amazing women in the world. And, most importantly, it confirmed everything she already suspected. Ed was here in Fleettwixt, still an active golemancer, and apparently now with much more prestige than the precocious teenage researcher Amelia once knew.
So, after she had finished off the golem, she had picked up the head, put it under her arm, and casually strolled out of the alleyway. She made a new plan to consort with the people she connected to best best—used tech salesmen.
(Wow... Dr. Winback. Just wow.)
Orctown was a sprawling, busy town of its own, exuding a wholly different feel from anything Amelia had experienced in Highden or Beechhurst or any other part of Fleettwixt she had entered so far. Sharp red roofs and wood-made buildings. Decorative spikes on the walls, and a shrine on every block. The doors were taller than anywhere else Amelia had ever seen, likely because even the very shortest of orcs still came up to Amelia’s chin. And while there were no towering behemoths in sight, every single building had two, sometimes three stories, densely lining the streets from end to end. With businesses on the ground floor, and houses on the second, there were also long, shared balconies between each building where orcs sauntered around and tended their winter gardens.
This place bore little resemblance to the other neighborhoods in Fleettwixt, and none to the countryside villages she had stayed in. The orcish people here had created something unique to themselves and displayed it proudly to all those who might have visited.
And, far from the scrutiny of eyes that might wander in Amelia’s direction, she was easily able to take a severed golem head through the streets in her arms. Aside from the stares she always received for her scarred-up face and displeased demeanor, she blended right in to the rest of the area.
She passed a coffee shop, whose outdoor seating area was completely full with beings of all races and size, enjoying themselves in peace and quiet.
Orctown, aside from its tightly-packed buildings and foreign script signs, also had the incredible luck of being located less than a train station’s distance from the Castle Entrance to the Manadhmeth Dungeon, one of the most popular spots in all of Fleettwixt. Many would eat and shop and pass away time in the local areas, and when they were ready they would walk on over to the Castle Entrance and go dungeon diving. Through that, the area built itself up successfully as one of the coziest corners of the city.
One magical used goods shop known as “Last Call for Gear” made its entire living feasting off the spoils of the great many dungeon crawling denizens who inhabited Orctown. When Amelia entered its doors, a chime sounded, and a small orange-hued imp poofed into existence in the air in front of her. It chattered in some incomprehensible tongue, nothing any glossal could understand, and buzzed around the room. Then it flew into a back room and disappeared.
Once she bothered to look around, though, her sight was assaulted with trinkets and weapons and tech of all shapes and sizes, all colors and types. She saw so many items: Transistors for mana radios a hundred years out of date; stuffed possums with cuddly faces; a fully operational rikestaff, pulsing with electric mana energy as it sat on a random table; a rock of unknown type, likely brought up from the dungeon itself. So many things here, and so much that Amelia could hardly even identify.
It was only a moment before a grey-bearded, baggy-eyed, cane-wielding orcish man hobbled into the main area of the shop, with the orange imp sitting on his shoulder. It chattered in some unrecognizable voice into the man’s ear as he stared at her with a curious twinkle in his eye. She was used to the stares, of course, but the way this old orc gazed upon her let on that he had a richer understanding of her situation just from his imp and his eyes. Not that the man seemed inclined to reveal that understanding to her.
“Welcome to my shop,” the man said. “I’m Urgul. Are you looking to buy?”
“Looking to sell,” she said.
“Sell? Oh, I’m always interested in that. What do you have?”
Finally, after all this time carrying the damn thing, she set the golem head down on an empty counter and let Urgul examine it. “A golem head, just for you.”
“I see, I see.” He put on a pair of tiny glasses, too small for his eyes, and looked closely at the golem. “A standard model. Looks almost brand-new.
“Don’t ask where I got it.”
He chuckled softly. “I understand. Don’t worry.”
“How much for it?” Amelia asked.
“Very hasty, aren’t you?” He put a hand on her left shoulder and looked at her with a certain calmness. Amelia’s first instinct was to jerk her shoulder back and slug him in the face, but somehow the man disarmed her tension just enough that she held back.
Mostly. “Get your hand off me,” she growled. That was enough to scare the imp away from her, though it flew back timidly a few seconds later.
“Young lady,” Urgul said, “I believe you are misunderstanding the way these types of deals are supposed to go. My store runs on a certain trust, same with all the others around here. Barking at me won’t help anything.”
This would be where most would apologize. Instead, Amelia merely held her tongue. She knew the way this man really worked, if he was calling her “young lady” as if she were a cute schoolgirl. Apologizing would just make her look like an easy target for bad deals.
When enough of a pause passed that he knew she would not reply to his comment, Urgul looked at the golem head again and said, “It’s a nice item. An unlicensed golemancer could really work with it. Especially a scrap basher. However, my shop is more about the interesting curiosities, if you haven’t noticed. An older model with some history behind it... That would have been nice.”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“So what you’re saying is...”
“Not as much as you’re hoping for,” he said.
“I’m reasonable.”
“Well...”
He gave a price. Amelia took it without even haggling, and his eyebrow shot up. She did not need the money, after all; the golem head was merely the opening bargain for the real reason she came here: information.
“Next,” Amelia said, “I’m wondering about, uh, this.” She held up the golem’s empty soul gem in all its dull, dark purple glory. “How much is one of these?”
Urgul shook his head, knowingly. “Young lady, you might not know, but soul gems aren’t special in their own right. They’re just tiny rocks made of quorium that are very good at capturing energy. Used to be that a single soul gem could set you back a week’s wages. But ever since the North Sunwell Company began expanding further, there’s been quorium mines popping up all over the continent.”
“I see...” He was exactly right. So many of the horrors inflicted upon Rockmund were a direct result of the quorium mines and their brutal working conditions. Entire towns were effectively enslaved to keep up with the demand for more quorium, and more soul gems.
The only reason Ed and the others discovered Amelia’s core was through one of those mines, so it was also the only reason she was alive in the first place.
“Today,” Urgul continued, “soul gems are about one silver an ounce. That gem right there looks about two ounces, if we’re being generous. It’s empty, right?”
“Right.”
“Maybe one ounce. I’d have to weigh it.”
“But you’re interested.”
“Of course,” he said. “Soul gems are an evergreen business. Every seller in Fleettwixt buys them up. As long as the North Sunwell authorities don’t find out.”
And then that was when Amelia allowed herself to smirk. That was when she knew she had won him already.
“Maybe this gem might be better for you, then?” she asked, putting away the empty gem and taking out the full one. It shone that same bright purple hue as Amelia’s eye and the core that glowed through her shirt when she got a little bit too giddy.
Urgul stared at the gem in amazement, his eyes going as wide as they were able to go. And when he saw the matching look in Amelia’s eye, his expression truly lit up.
“You’ve sure got my attention now,” he said.
“I sure hope so.”
His eyes then narrowed again into vaguely mischievous twinkling. “I’m no golemancer, myself,” he said. “I’m a retired summoner, though, and I know a great deal about soul magic. You, young lady...” He shook his head, and the imp, floating beside him, mimed the motion. “You know what? I don’t need to know your story. I don’t think you’d tell me for free anyway.”
“I’d like to trade some questions for this soul gem,” Amelia said.
“What kind of questions?”
“The kind with very honest answers.”
Urgul nodded. “I get the meaning. I’ll do my best.” He snapped his fingers, and the summoned imp disappeared in another poof. Likely not for privacy, but just for show.
“Tell me about the Fourland Growth Company,” Amelia began. “What do they do, really?”
“Ah, that’s an easy one,” Urgul told her, picking up a broken battery-lamp off a shelf and fiddling with it. “Fourland’s an industrial partner with the North Sunwell Corporation. They specialize in mana harvesting operations, as well as logistics throughout the southern Fleettwixt area. But I guess you want the real story, not just the company line?”
“Yes.”
“They’re in deep in every illicit operation imaginable,” he said. “They really do grow a substantial amount of the crops harvested for mana within Fleettwixt itself, but I’m sure you know that only a portion of our power comes from inside the city. The real pay comes from smuggling in people, smuggling in soul gems, and selling drugs.”
“Drugs?”
“They use their specialized agriculture labs to cultivate very specific types of plants. Instead of being smashed up and extracted for energy, they’re processed into powder and formed into a new street drug called ‘synth.’ Highly addictive, highly dangerous, and of course the North Sunwell authorities turn a blind eye since they’re the ones benefiting from it all. Sick, really.”
“I agree,” Amelia said. “I’d like to kill everyone involved.”
She had seen what certain drugs had done to entire populations in rural villages out in Sunwell. They were deemed illegal by the North Sunwell Company, then distributed by them nonetheless. The quality was always poor, people overdosed constantly, and addiction was treated only with continued supply. To hear that they were doing the exact same thing here in Fleettwixt burned her up on the inside. The rage could hardly be contained.
Internal temperatures rising.
Please find some shade or soak in some water. You need to cool off.
Shut up, Access Core.
Urgul, for what it was worth, seemed pleased even at her suggestion of mass murder. “I’d really like synth off the streets, myself. A lot of my boys are getting involved with that stuff, and it’s going to tear them apart like everyone else. They always like to say orcs are immune to whatever trash the other races fall into, but it’s just a well-marketed myth. We’re just as weak.”
“Tell me how to fix it and I will,” she said.
“Aren’t you a go-getter? I’m not sure you can fix a whole system by yourself.”
“I’ll get started.
“Well, the southeast is just the right part of the city to be in. The Coliseum District is a big hotspot for the drug trade, especially in the Red Light District. It’s seen a big increase in violent crimes this year, according to the local papers. Really makes it a lot less safe around these parts.”
“So I go over there, find some drug dealers, and kill them?”
“Well, do what you want, but make sure you don’t get caught is all,” he said with a smile that grew less friendly and more... something else. “I trust in you, young lady.”
“Where can I go?”
“I know a little place called Margaret’s Secret. Mostly caters to the ladies, and it’s got ears everywhere. Tell them Urgul sent you. Or better yet, don’t!” He laughed drly.
“One more question.” She hesitated before bringing the name up. This may have been a bad idea, she realized, but she did not want to pass up the opportunity. “I obtained some information on that golem head. The designer is named ‘Dr. Winback.’ Ever heard of them?”
Urgul shook his head. “No, but I’m sure I know someone who does.”
“No need. Just keep that question between you and me.”
“If they’re a golemancer, they might work at Barrier University,” he suggested. “But if you’re planning on violence, you should know that North Sunwell keeps all its golemancers on a very tight leash. Big security, constant monitoring, takes ceremonial hostage family members to make sure they’re loyal, all that malarkey. You might want to stick with drug dealers in that case.”
“A shame,” she said. It was good to know that Urgul would be unaware of Ed’s entire existence, but very unfortunate to know that she would be so difficult to reach. She had to hope, perhaps, that Ed might be able to reach her first instead.
And with that, Amelia handed over the full soul gem to Urgul and watched as he feasted his eyes on the vast magical energy held within.
“Are you sure that’s all you wanted to ask?”
“I’m sure.” Amelia turned around and began towards the door.
“Well, don’t be a stranger, stranger. I’d love to see you alive and well in the future.”
“Likewise, old man.”
She left the used goods shop and stared into the mid-morning sky. Yes, she sacrificed her fullest soul gem just for some information. But more than anything, she had gained a new option in her path to revenge.
Fourland had a weakness. Synth. And, in effect, North Sunwell had a weakness. One to exploit it to very great effect.