Chapter Seventy-Five
The Peasantry
Two hours after the company of seven watched Carter disappear in a cloud of dust with Oliver’s arms wrapped weakly around him, the rest of the company rolled creakily toward the Main Gate of Istol city with three horses awkwardly towing the four-horse cart.
They’d managed to make the trip without encountering too many life-threatening situations, which is to say there’d been one.
Two unwise highwaymen tried to stop the cart, only to have all seven of the armed soldiers lean out the back. After an awkward moment where the two men pretended they’d been scratching their heads and not trying to stop the wagon, they let the carriage continue on their way.
There were only three ways into the coastal city by land; the Main Gate, the High Gate, and the Manor Gate. If you were born one inch south of Bright-Side, then you will never have seen the latter two, and likely know the “Main Gate” by its colloquial name, “The Mud Gate.”
The carriage rolled to a stop as the two dirty-armoured guards stepped down from their podium and approached the driver, swaying as they walked after having drunk their dinner.
Michael and his friends sat in the back of the cart, tensely listening through the canvas as the drunken guard asked a series of checklist questions, involving a great deal of permit-handling and licence-eying, all done very sloppily, Michael assumed, by the speed at which he heard it shoved back into the driver’s lap.
They Legacies were soon left on Lower Main Street, dividing Mid-Side and Dim-Side. They stepped quickly into the dark stacks, following James and Michael as they navigated between the leaning houses, supported by crooked foundations, dry-rot, and pure spite.
The company kept close, managing to fend off unwelcome eyes purely with Magnus’ presence. Slowly they wandered through the dark alleyways, doing their best not to step on glass, potholes, or the many sleeping unhoused.
Rose walked close with Sarah as the swordswoman fretted. Unsure what to say, she took the Sarah’s arm and then looked at it in shock. “Rii, I need to do more sword-training.”
Sarah snorted reactively, thankful for the distraction as she pulled Rose closer, walking like they’d just spent the night out at a tavern.
Up ahead, James and Michael walked the familiar route to James’ house, turning and twisting until they came to a wide block of cramped, grey, slouching apartment buildings.
As they made their way toward the centre-most column of residences, Michael nudged James. “Are you sure we should stay here?”
James had wrapped his Merhoii spear-head with a burlap sack he’d taken from the carriage, so as not to attract attention while using it as a walking stick. “We won’t attract too much attention. The Fort rule is only two Legacies to a city at one time. No matter the size of the city. But our aura doesn’t attract too much attention if we don’t stay too long. And as long as we don’t actually use our Arcancy. It’s is one of the reasons Slick and I had to leave town to train.”
Michael blinked and mumbled, “Which is how they found me. I’d been using mine on accident.”
“Probably. That’s why they sent Aroha and Nichole to get you. Monsters would have had an easier time tracking you all if it were three Legacies moving through the countryside. But Ari only had knowledge, not power, so the allure of your...” he struggled for the words, “combined aura- I guess -was less.”
Michael supposed that made sense before remembering he actually wasn’t referring to monsters in the first place. Or at least not Creations. “Actually, love, I more meant, are your parents not around today?”
James shook his head, not missing a beat. “It’s Mynerday. They always get pissed on Riiday instead of going to church, so they’ll be at The Imp’s Head, or the Dark Brew, keeping their buzz going till tomorrow morning.”
Aroha caught the conversation’s edge and asked, “Your folks get drunk on the last day of the spell, and stay drunk until the second morning of the next one?”
James huffed weakly, nodding as he stepped up the dingy, cracked front door of his apartment building and jimmied it open. “I’m a terribly proud son.”
The inside of the building was even more melancholy than the outside. The roof sagged. The floorboards were warped and bulging out every few feet. The paint curled off the walls where it wasn’t already faded. The moment the door closed, there wasn’t even a ray of light.
As they walked through the corridor, Rose and Sarah both glanced at the sheer number of doors completely boarded up and marked with an enormous letter ‘C’. Rose touched one as she wandered passed.
“Hey, James, what do the ‘C’s mean?” Rose asked.
James slowed to a stop before the door at the end of the hall. It had its own letter C, but someone had clearly tried to cover it before running out of patience or paint. He wondered if his parents had ignored it when they moved in, or whether they were the ones who tried to cover it.
“Condemned.”
Michael had been to James’ house only a handful of times throughout his life. In fairness, James had also been to Michael’s home only rarely, but primarily because Carter lived in a mansion, and it seemed foolish to ignore that choice when it was available. Michael’s house was a comfortable back-up plan, but they rarely discussed James’.
They stepped into his apartment to find it was three rooms in total; first, a lounge-kitchen, packed with a couch and countertop, piled high with crates of empty bottles and old food, second, a bathroom with no door, and a bedroom, filled to the brim with piles of clothing and shoes and blankets messily thrown from the bed.
On the floor of the main room, though it was only ten feet from wall to wall and the kitchen took up a third of it, there was a small mattress and a condensed pile of things lined up against the wall; old books, small stones, a water skin, and a small pile of notebooks.
Michael and Nichole plonked on the couch without much worry. Michael was familiar with James’ living arrangement and Nichole had lived in far worse. Aroha and Sarah hovered politely while Rose and Magnus began looking around.
Magnus looked idly at the painting-less frames on the walls and his eyes seemed to glow a brighter red as he said, “This is a pit, Taylor,” while James opened a smudged window above the kitchen counter, letting in a grey hue of light.
Michael scowled at the pale boy when James patted him softly on the shoulder and said, “He isn’t wrong.”
“Doesn’t have to be a prick about it.”
The red of Magnus’ eyes softened as he took a sharp breath and he muttered, “I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve been around you all too long.”
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Michael frowned to Nichole but she was equally confused. “He blaming us for his attitude?”
Magnus flattened a peeled lick of paint only for it to curl back out again and he said, “No- the longer I’m stuck around Arcancy... the more I-” he froze, noticing how closely everyone was watching him. “Nothing. I just need to rest.”
Magnus stepped into James’ parents’ room, and the broad-shouldered boy had a moment of panic before remembering they wouldn’t be home for hours.
The company milled around for some time, and eventually everyone settled into place. Michael sat on James’ mattress with him and the others read his old books or took the time to eat or sleep.
James idly checked how dark the sky was before turning his attention back to an old, worn notebook he’d been flipping through.
Michael watched as he turned the pages, occasionally smiling or becoming strangely solemn until he turned to the last page in the notebook and he realised James was looking at lyrics. “I forgot you wrote songs.”
James mouthed the words as he read them and felt his heart warm at the memory of the day he’d written it. “I haven’t tried my hand at it in cresks.”
Michael nudged his shoulder. “Sing for us.”
James looked at him, almost ready to laugh and shook his head. “How about... no.”
Sarah, leaning sleepily on the couched with her legs stretched across Aroha and Nichole, pleaded, “Go on, James. You’re a gorgeous singer.”
James went to shake his head when Nichole and Aroha joined in, goading him along until eventually Rose piped up too, leaning against the far wall chanting, “Sing it, sing it, sing it!”
“Fine! Fine. Sweet Rii and Thall below, you lot are stubborn.” James held up the notebook and then sighed as he lowered it again. “It’s not really a happy song, guys.”
“Sing it, sing it-”
“Gods, okay!” he yelled, unable to fight off his smile. “For the record, I never finished this song, but here it is.” The warrior took a deep breath and began to sing:
“When I first saw your faces
I prayed I would never forget
might’a sold my soul to a god I don’t know
and knew I would never regret it
My friends, my friends
how lucky I am
to be here with you
dancing in dawnlight
laughing all we like
to make it through
When you first held my hand
I felt my breath tight between your fingers
and when you let go, I knew I’d never show
how much your touch lingered
When we first ran, through the fields with no plan
I knew you were both my brothers
And that one day it might all go away
But until then, the world, we’d discover
My friends, my friends
how lucky I am
to be here with you
dancing in dawnlight
laughing all we like
with smiles oh so true.”
James’ voice tapered off and he smiled to the words he’d messily scrawled on the page, glad to know he remembered the melody before glancing up to the others.
They all looked at him softly as Michael leant on his shoulder and closed his eyes, letting a warm tear roll off his cheek.
No one spoke, or commented, applauded or asked for an encore. Instead, they all just sat and let the words seep into their skin.
James closed the book and set it down, leaning back against the wall with Michael on his shoulder. He then realised Magnus was leaning in the open doorway with eyes gently closed, still mouthing the words softly to himself. When he finally opened them again and turned back silently into the other room, James realised his eyes had nearly faded completely from their furious red, all the way to a soft sunset orange.
After quite some time, Michael opened his eyes again and frowned as the darkness had fallen more quickly than he’d expected. “I think it’s passed Felling...”
Sarah roused slightly to his words and looked to the window, no longer touched by dusk light. “They should be back by now.” She sat up, idly waking Nichole and Aroha as she began pulling on her boots.
James frowned and rubbed his groggy eyes. “What are you doing?”
“Goin’ to find them. What was the surgeon’s name?”
Michael stood slightly too quickly, black dots dancing in his vision as he said, “Sarah, look, I don’t know who your family is and I know you don’t really want to talk about it-”
“Correct.” Sarah pulled on her other boot.
“-but you can’t walk into Bright-Side unless you’re willing to offer that information up to every other Iron Suit. And, honestly, even if you had a Coin of Writ, dressed the way you are, they might just assume its stolen,” Michael said, trying to be delicate.
Sarah raised her brow at him. “You don’t exactly look like a king, either.”
“Exactly. We look like travel-worn commoners. We look like thieves. They won’t stop to ask questions, looking like this,” Michael said urgently, trying to ignore the pestering sound of the wooden guard’s cudgel being drawn, playing over in his head. “Take my word for it. Please.”
Sarah sighed and combed back her hair.
James suddenly stood and yelled, “Hold on!”
He ran swiftly into his parents’ room, and the company heard a great deal of rustling and heavy thuds before he burst back out again, followed by a rather confused Magnus as James held up a white, mermaid-cut wedding dress, sleeveless and decorated with sheer lace.
James looked it over and glanced at Sarah. “I think it’ll fit.”
Sarah pinched the bridge of her nose.
James chuckled and very neatly began to fold the dress so he could fit it into a backpack. “If you want to go, you’ll need to look the part. But don’t put it on until you get into Mid-Side, otherwise you’ll get mugged for sure.”
Michael wanted to be happy about the plan but he kept picturing the glint of iron armour. Instead of himself in his usual broken state, however, now he could only see Sarah. “I’m going too. Princess and the Servant,” he said, gesturing to his sorry state. “I’ll be your guide.”
James’ face fell and he shook his head. “Then we’ll all go. You shouldn’t be going Bright-Side, Michael. Not without Carter,” he said grimly.
Michael gave him a soft look and shook his head. “The baker’s shortcut is the fastest and he does his pastry prep as soon as the sun goes down. Getting seven people through unseen is impossible without drawing the attention of the guard, which we don’t need. Besides, we need more supplies for the final trek to the fort, which I need you guys to sort.”
James looked Michael hard in the eye, and although it wasn’t by Instinct, they had a conversation across the single glance and said a hundred things they didn’t want to say aloud.
Michael took his hand and muttered quietly, “You know you can’t come.”
James gritted his teeth and looked to the floor. “You ended up only slightly better.”
“I know. But with Sarah, I’ll be okay, and so long as she’s with me, I can get us to Beaumont’s and then Carter can bring us all back.” Michael grabbed his bow and handed it to James. “Look after this for me.”
James’ eyes fell dark as he clenched his fists, uselessly.
Michael touched his white knuckles and said, “I know you’re nervous. You know you don’t have to be. You know why?”
James nodded and pulled Michael into a tight hug.
Sarah looked the two Legacies over as they said their farewells. She’d spent much of her life in courtly circumstances, so she’d only ever received bright smiles and kind words from the Otylian guard. She’d heard what they were really like, but never seen it. Sarah cast a glance to the dirty window above the kitchen-counter and caught her ragged reflection. Her bright hair was tangled, her clothes rugged and travelworn. Sarah squared her shoulders, set
She was a long way from Otylia.