Chapter 136
The Wheels Turn
Asha and Sylas sat on a small wall gating a tall, thick tree. It resided in a park-like enclosure, surrounded by several fountains and garden-like flowery bushes. Both were still reeling from the shock of where they landed and what they'd discovered, Sylas actually more so than her.
After all, the capital of the Kingdom was his ultimate goal--this place was where he was designed to go, Valen by his side, and conquer it. He thought the first time he’d see the place would be from a distant hill, in front of a massive army, while the drums of war continued to belt out the hymn into the world. Not... like this.
It didn’t feel earned in the slightest; he merely walked through a vortex in the middle of nowhere and poof... he landed at his ultimate destination. And what’s more, it was completely different from what he imagined. Though he did envision a proper, large city, it was much, much larger in reality than in his imagination. Furthermore, the buildings were far taller and they seemed to have architectural districts of all things.
Additionally, there also seemed to be different cultures existing within the city. Unlike the far north, where everything, including the people, was pale and clothed up to the necks, the people in the city had quite a few shades to them. However, the shades didn’t seem to get too dark, as Asha’s vision of the people with ‘obsidian skin’ didn’t encompass the city from the looks of it.
More so than the skin, what stood out were the types of clothes that people wore--anything from ordinary, brown garbs that don't stand out to lavish, multi-layered gowns, everything was visible on the streets. It was difficult to truly describe the city's culture--in part because he spent less than half an hour in it, but in part, because it seemed to be much larger than he anticipated.
“... what... what should we do now?” Asha posited the question, breaking the long silence between the two.
“Fuck me if I know,” Sylas replied with a frustrated sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I had plans of eventually getting here during one of the loops just to check things out, but those plans were for the distant future, once I had a few more hidden cards to play. As it stands right now, I don’t think I have enough leverage to meet anyone of importance. Also, did you realize something.”
“What?”
“There’s no snow.”
“... right!!” Asha exclaimed, heaving her head back and looking up. “It’s... clear! The sky is clear!” though a few passersby gave them strange looks, neither was of the mind to pay attention to them.
“I have an insane idea.”
“... unlike your usual completely normal and non-insane ones?” she looked at him strangely.
“No, no, compared to this one,” he said.
“Alright, what it is?”
“What if we didn’t just travel through space,” he said. “But also... time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he continued. “What if we aren’t in... today, but in the past?”
“...”
“See? Insane!” he gestured a blown mind with his fingers while Asha continued to stare at him.
“And insanely wrong.”
“H-huh?”
“We’re definitely in, how you put it, ‘today’.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I can still feel the Gods normally.”
“...”
“...”
“Right, forgot about those,” he chuckled. “And you forget I ever said anything.”
“It’s a skill I acquired after spending time with you. You talk so much a person is in need of forgetting some things.”
“I can hurt, you know? Just because my body is resilient doesn’t mean my soul is.”
“Victim’s words aside,” she said. “Can’t you just bust into the Palace and start asking questions?”
“Well, if I had a death wish, maybe,” Sylas said. “I’m strong, but not that strong. Since people aren't gawking at us incessantly, am I to guess you changed your hair color for them?"
“Hm,” she nodded. Despite the diversity in the city, Sylas was yet to see another woman not aged sixty that had snow-white hair. “Hey, maybe if I change it back, we’ll draw enough attention so that the King will accept our audience!”
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“Or, or, and I’m just spitballing here,” he said. “You’ll get locked up in a dungeon and executed on some trumped-up charges because you look too strange.”
“Hurt goes both ways, you know?” she mumbled.
“Hey, hey, I think you’re beautiful,” he said. “But I grew to think that. The first time I saw you, I thought you were a ghost who came to haunt me.”
“How you think that is good is beyond me. But, fine, I’ll remain ordinary-looking. Seeing how you’re killing all my ideas, you must have a grand one of your own.”
"... I don't. I really don't," he sighed. "If I had known we'd be getting here, I would have planned for it. Maybe gotten something from Valen that I can use as proof or something. As it stands right now, the best we can do is probably just roam about and passively listen to things. Hey, excuse me!" Sylas suddenly stopped one of the people passing by.
“Hm?” it was a woman who seemed to be in her forties, sporting dark hair with bangs that nearly covered her eyes.
“My, uh, my wife and I are new in town,” he said with a smile. “And we’ve been looking for an inn for a while, but, well, we’re both directional morons so here we are. Do you perhaps know where the nearest inn is?”
“... you’re new in town, you say?”
“Yeah.”
“The best inn for the newcomers is nearby,” the woman said. “I pass by it on my way home. Want to come with?”
“Sure!” Sylas ignored the alarms in his head and the warning signs and replied with a smile, pulling Asha’s hand into his own and dragging her along. As per usual, whenever the two were around strangers, she shut down, her head lowered. “Can I ask for your name?”
“It’s Mila,” the woman replied.
“It’s a pleasure, Mila,” Sylas said. “I am Gilbottageng, better know as Gibby by my friends, and this is my wife, Sheesheshashana,” while Asha nearly held herself back from laughing, the woman glanced back at the two oddly. “We just call her Shana. I know our names might sound strange, but they’re actually very normal where we’re from. For instance, my sister’s name is Kikakkeelettata.”
“And where are you from exactly?” the woman asked.
“Ah, a small, isolated village up north,” Sylas replied. “We headed out earlier this year before the winter, chasing the dreams.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” the woman said as they left the garden-like area and entered a set of narrow alleyways. “Cathia is full of opportunities.”
“Really?! That’s great!” Sylas continued to play the role of an ignorant and excited ‘tourist’, pretending not to notice where they were going. “Truth be told, I was worried Shana and I would be forced out quickly and that there’d be no opportunities for us. But your reassurance really puts my mind at ease.”
“I’m glad,” the woman said. “Here we are,” she said, pointing at a building that looked about as much as an inn as a volcano looks like a spa. “Do you want me to help you sign in?”
“You would do that?!” even Asha, by now, seemed to have realized something was off. However, she had absolute trust in Sylas--the man was a snake, that much she’d learned a long time ago. Though he was generally nice to her and seemed to thrive in a role of a goof in the castle, he was no fool. “People in the city are really nice!”
"Yeah. Follow along," the woman said as the trio entered the building. A strong stench of alcohol quickly assailed their nostrils as it became apparent that they had walked into some kind of a bar. There were dozen or so people inside, seated around the rough and rugged tables, and most stopped whatever they were doing and focused on the newcomers, inspecting them. "Master Cha, I have some young folk looking for a room here."
"Oh?" a man behind the bar seemed to be in his late sixties and, appearances-wise, looked like a warm and cuddly old man ready to spread wisdom. However, Sylas had many, many experiences with men like this back on Earth--and though a good chunk of those memories had long since floated away, some still remained rooted. All of his instincts were screaming that the man was bad news, but he wasn't afraid. In fact, he was entirely comfortable; this was the kind of world that he grew up in.
The key difference was that, while he didn’t have a lot of agency back on Earth, that was different now--he could easily kill everyone in this room within thirty seconds and barely break a sweat.
“You two looking for a room?” the man asked with a wide smile.
“Yes!” Sylas replied with a similar one. “I--I am a bit embarrassed but... is... is it possible to pay in labor? I... I may not look it, but I can lift things. And my wife’s a real good cook.” luckily, Sylas was wearing quite baggy clothes as those were the kind he packed the most of when they headed into the mountains. Otherwise, others might have seen through his lies by now.
“Of course, of course. There’s always work to be done around here,” the man continued to smile. “I’m afraid, however, we aren’t in need of a cook.”
“Hm?”
“But there’s other work for your wife.”
“Like what?”
"Well, hmm. She ain't much, but a brothel--" before the old man could finish the sentence, Sylas reached out and grabbed his throat, pulled him forward, and slammed his head against the counter. Others didn't even yet have a chance to process what happened when Sylas lifted the old man's now-bleeding head and grasped his throat even tighter until it was apparent that the man was choking.
"How about I send you to a brothel instead?" gone was the mellow and excited voice, replaced instead by a cold and emotionless one. "I'm sure somebody out there would get their bits off on seeing an old man shove an iron pipe up his ass."
“What the hell are you doing?!!!” the rest of the room awoke right then, standing up and drawing out their weapons.
"Pipe down," Sylas' cold and frigid voice, compared with the deathly atmosphere he was exuding, silenced the room immediately. Even the old man, who was whimpering until a moment ago, grew silent. Decades of experience were telling him that if they said or did one wrong thing... everyone in the room would die. "Now, I'm in a very forgiving mood today. So, you're gonna tell these brainless goons to scram, and you and I are goin' to have a chat over a few drinks. Hopefully, by the time these morons return with more numbers, we'll have been done and I can use 'em to stretch my muscles. What you say?"
“F-f-fine,” the old man mumbled, coughing up a mouthful of blood. “Scram, you lot! Hear me? Scram! And don’t come back!” though he knew that his warning would fall on deaf ears, he still hoped it would ring true with at least a few of them. The entire bar emptied within a few seconds save for Sylas, Asha, the old man, and, strangely, the woman that led them here.
“... you two don’t look alike,” Sylas commented, letting go of the old man who immediately pulled back. The woman rushed over and started looking at the wound while Sylas reached from behind the counter and grabbed some ale for himself. “He took you under his wing? Saved you while you were a kid?”
“Who are you?!!” she asked angrily. Though it was clear she wanted to reach for the dagger at her waist, the old man stopped her.
“... you don’t get to use that tone with me, bitch,” Sylas warned. “If you want your head on your neck still, you’ll shut the fuck up and let the grownups talk. Understand?”
“You--”
“Understand?!”
“She understands, she understands!” the old man exclaimed quickly.
“Good,” Sylas’ cold atmosphere vanished abruptly, as though it was never there. The sudden change in attitude shocked both the old man and the woman, though Asha seemed completely unaffected. She’d seen him like this before, after all. Instead, while letting him do the talking, she poured herself some wine and sipped it slowly. “Now then, let us chat.”