Well. I'm lost. In truth I had wanted to return to that first massive fountain I'd seen upon entering the city but midway through my backtracking I'd lost my way entirely. These dirty wooden buildings all look so similar from the ground, as if the human architects purposely designed them to be as confusing as possible for someone trying to navigate their city. Everywhere I look, doors are barred shut and I haven't even seen many humans in this wretched wooden maze – the few I have stumbled across generally making haste to evacuate from my presence, which is a familiar response I've seen among all manner of weaklings. For a while a few humans were following me – probably still are following me really – but I lost track of them fairly quickly, their mana so puny as to be indistinguishable from the surroundings. Which means keeping track of them would require physically tracking them with my eyes – or a spell I suppose – which is far more work than I'm willing to do.
Even if I'm lost, well it's not like I couldn't just take to the sky if I really wanted to, so even if I'm temporarily lost right now – it isn't stopping me from exploring. Currently I'm hunting a small creature – I'd initially spotted one while following Marc – chasing it down these deserted dirt footpaths and through narrow alleys. Which, on reflection, is probably how I ended up so lost in the first place, not that it matters now. Because now I'm nearly upon the thing I can say confidently – watching the small white blur of fur disappear around yet another blind corner ahead of me. Moving quickly I round the corner and find yet another narrow alley – this one; however, is a dead end. And there pressed against the far wall is a tiny beast of some variety.
It has four legs and fur – and it reminds me vaguely of those beastkin we saw a few days ago – with its large eyes, triangular ears, and small wet looking nose. I approach it carefully, making sure to keep my body between it and the mouth of the alley behind me. As I come it begins to let out a frightened mewling noise which causes me to pause for a moment. Perhaps it's calling for help? Or attacking? Though I can sense no mana in its voice so that latter seems unlikely. But nothing happens, it just mewls at me to no effect at all – how mysterious. Thinking so I reach down and scoop the creature into my arms, feeling its small warm body – its tiny heart hammering erratically.
As I pick it up it extends its claws and weakly attempts to slash at me – completely ineffectually. It has no offensive ability to speak of and its claws – devoid of mana or technique – are unable to even mar my skin. Still it twists and writhes in my grip in an annoying fashion so I'm forced to reposition my hold – hands behind its front legs and before its back legs staring down into its furry little face. It stares back, helplessly suspended, and lets out another of its mewling sounds. It's things like this that make Suprema interesting after all.
I wonder what it is. What it's called. What it does. Why is it allowed to live in this city of humans? Demons kept beasts occasionally, mostly creatures with sturdy bodies that might be used as mounts or beasts of burden and sometimes large and dangerous things that might be used as engines of war. But never something so small. Never something so soft. That it is here, that it can live here, is a testament to the softness that permeates this place. A creature with such a thin pelt and scrawny body would not last the winter on Artas. That it might carve out an existence for itself here, on Suprema, well it's interesting.
“Lady, what are you doing to my cat?” An unknown voice calls out.
A cat is it? Fascinating. As the voice gives me the word I feel it magically reaffirmed by my stolen knowledge of this language – apparently my spell doesn't give me access to vocabulary that I didn't already know at the time of casting – but when I learn the new words it confirms them and enables pronunciation and comprehension. A bit of a flaw really. The spell teaching me a bunch of words but not their associated meanings. This is what happens when you compress complex ritual magic so it can be cast in seconds. The results are bound to be somewhat sloppy. Musing on the difficulties of properly casting magic I turn to face the newcomer – a human boy.
I think boy is the right word anyway – I haven't been paying the humans too much attention since that little hiccup at the gates. This human is markedly smaller than many of the other humans I've seen – probably a juvenile – hence boy. He is lean and wiry with a frame that simultaneously speaks to malnourishment and some kind of strength training – actually a fairly common trend among the humans I've seen so far. He's slightly unique in other ways though, both his hair and his eyes are black – a relative rarity among the humans I've seen so far – and he's the first human to regard me with something other than awe or thinly veiled hostility. Instead his eyes are filled with suspicion. Probably thinking I'm trying to steal his beast.
“You should put him down, he doesn't like strangers - surprised he let you pick him up really – you're gonna get yourself torn up by that little hairball if you're not careful.”
A sensible suggestion, there is clearly no merit in holding this thing. “He's so soft though.”
I freeze. Looking wide eyed at the human boy. He in turn has narrowed his eyes and is returning my gaze. Good. Seems I didn't explode his head or anything with that little slip-up, properly repressing my mana even though I hadn't really meant to speak aloud.
“He's just a mangy mouser lady, nothing special at all. If you want something soft I'm sure there's some shop or other in the Upper District that will indulge you. But I'd like if you would return my cat – they serve a purpose other than decoration here in the Lows.” His tone is slightly acidic by the end there. How arrogant. It is his cat though and I am no thief so – slightly regretfully – I gingerly set the small beast down. Free of me it instantly bolts away, disappearing between the boys legs, around the corner and out of sight.
“Such beasts are purchased in shops? Did I hear you correctly small human?” I ask.
His gaze becomes positively contemptuous as he responds. “Sure. Probably. You can buy anything in the Uppers, be it a cat or whatever – so long as you've got the gold.”
Hm. Annoying. I don't have any gold. Or anything really – just the clothes on my back. Why would I give gold to someone else in the first place though? Isn't that obviously backwards.
“I don't have any gold though.” I say.
“Yea sure you don't lady, bet that dress just gre-” Halfway through his dismissive reply the boy stops. Stops and looks at me. His eyes tracing from the heels on my feet all the way up to the hair on my head, a long and appraising gaze. Maybe noting my complete lack of carrying capacity. As he finishes his face rapidly changes a few times, making different expressions too quickly for me to discern their meaning.
“You lost or something lady?” And after a moment of silent deliberation he asks that.
“Yes.” I have no idea at all where I am honestly. Well aside from “inside a city”. I should probably know the cities name too but its slipped my mind, just another of a million irrelevant details I've discarded over the years.
The boy's face has scrunched up considerably at my reply. “Well you've managed to wander your way into The Lows, nothing but bad news for you down here. Do you even know where you're supposed to be going?”
“Ah, yes, my goal was a large fountain – in a courtyard I spotted when entering the city.”
The boy is frowning again – muttering to himself. “...knew it. Damned noble lady from somewhere or other...” After a moment he looks up. “Shouldn't you have an escort or something? Shadfer isn't exactly the gentlest place for someone like you.”
“Indeed human, I have a powerful escort – but currently she is away on a task.” I answer confidently – Pink is powerful indeed compared to the rabble I've seen in this city.
“Doesn't it sort of defeat the purpose of the escort if you send them away while you wander the Lows? Actually no. Don't answer that.” He seems to have resolved himself to something. “Would you like some help miss? A guide back to The Uppers – to your fountain – you're meeting someone there right?”
I nod along with him as he speaks. I should be meeting Pink again in the near future. And as interesting as these twisting alleys with shuttered doors and boarded windows have been, I should probably get a move on. It's a good thing that my projected aura of perfection has lured in a new servant, to do the menial things like “remembering what route to take”.
“Yes, that would be most welcome human. As interesting as this place was initially – I feel I've seen most of what there is to see.”
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“What you wandered into the Lows sightseeing? You suicidal or something lady?” As the boy speaks he shakes his head incredulously, at the same time turning away and beckoning me to follow with a wave of his hand.
“No, while you can call me many things – suicidal isn't one of them. Is this place so dangerous human?” I follow him in slight awe – do humans perhaps have some innate racial characteristic that allows them to perfectly navigate twisty and seemingly identical passageways? This boy is the second human I've seen that moves with such uncanny skill through these alleys.
“Lady can you drop that 'human' shit? I don't know if that fashionable among nobles or something but it's weird. I'd almost rather you just called me an ashborn. Name's Martin – if you care to use it. And yes it dangerous. Hells lady, you'd be hard pressed to find a more dangerous place in Lord Clearwater's territory, the Adventurer's Guild is down here – not a dozen blocks from us.”
“Is that a bad thing? Martin?” I ask, a bit curious and deciding to humor him, Pink is investigating the guild as we speak so anything I learn will likely be redundant, but when opportunity knocks…
“'Course it's a bad thing lady. Adventurers is folk that would slit your throat and take your pretty dress faster than you can blink. The Guild is just a buncha criminals and cowards too yellow for the Frontline.”
“Huh, that's different from what I've heard of adventurers.”
We're currently climbing a mound of unidentifiable rubble – apparently taking a circuitous route – and at those words the human, Martin, stops to shoot another contemptuous glare down at me.
“Well you're a noble ain't you lady? Nobles are always prancing on about how great the adventurers are, how they're protectors of the realm and all that happy bullshit. But I don't see no nobles down here in the Lows. I don't see no damn nobles trying to live – rubbing elbows with all the biggest cowards and strongest criminals the Imperium can produce – pretending their new heavily armed neighbors are a good thing. Like going out a hunting a few Unbound every now and then is worth having a bunch of barely hinged lunatics running around your city.”
He spits. Then turns and resumes his ascent.
“If the Emperor had a lick of sense he'd disband the whole thing and clap em all in irons. They're the only reason I'm helping you lady. Wouldn't sit right on my conscience if I had to see you turned up dead tonight.”
“I see. Well thank you for your concern Martin.” I answer – swallowing the heat of anger slowly rising up in the face of the boy's disrespect, he is helping me.
“Don't thank me lady, just tell your escorts not to abandon you in the future. Better yet don't go wandering the Lows on a whim. Damn fool thing to do. It's a dangerous world out there. Inside the walls as much as outside them.” The boy's face is grim with that assertion. I don't contradict him though. It's not like he's wrong.
After that we travel mostly in silence, broken only by the boy's occasional grunts when he leads us on a particularly difficult route. He is taking great care to avoid other people I've noticed, and after discerning that I could keep up with him he's been leading me in truly odd directions. Over piles of rubble, through the burned out shells of houses, up onto the rooftops briefly and then down again. His caution with regards to the adventurers seems excessive but I don't complain. Even if the route is longer – whats an extra hour or two when you measure the years you've lived by the millennium? Or not at all as the case may be. As always I'm content to let someone else do the work, trailing lazily in their wake.
And before I know it we've returned to the cobbled stone streets. Here, there are more people around and the boy doesn't make any effort to avoid them. It's the reverse actually – as he leads me – the people ahead of him often step aside to give him a wide berth, sneering and scowling and making generally unpleasant facial expressions. Then they turn their attentions to me following behind and the sneers and scowls disappear, replaced by that stupid gawping awestruck expression that lesser beings can't help but make, before they eventually regain themselves and go back to whatever it is they're doing.
Well. Mostly.
While most of these humans seem as soft as the lavish garments adoring their bodies, a few stand out as – well, not dangerous – but at least more dangerous than any of the other humans I've encountered. In an infinitesimal kind of way. What's a bit surprising is that it's almost never the humans who wear the matching armor – the kind the gate guard wore, that identifies them as some sort of warrior caste I imagine – rather it's just random humans on the street. Dressed in a variety of different ways, robes and armor and even a few in frumpy finery. I notice them, with their puny but comparatively notable abilities, and they also notice me. A half dozen pairs of eyes trail me even as I trail the boy – humans who look at me and are not overpowered by my awesome aura. Not that the attentions of such insects really matter – but it might make our continued anonymity difficult. I don't know how humans react when unknown and powerful beings intrude on their cities – but if it's anything similar to how demons might react. Well. The thought causes a small smile to form on my lips.
Martin continues on – oblivious – and while his presence, with his sack cloth clothing, seems to inspire some animosity from the surroundings, no one seems willing to confront us. So I stroll behind him confidently, happy to be out from the winding passages that comprise the place he called The Lows. Until I see it! The fountain, the one I'd spotted shortly after we'd first entered the city. A circular pool of water, with a raised platform in the center atop which stood an ugly statue of a man with a sword. The boy had lead me right to it – and I'm turning to congratulate him on a job well done when another human interrupts me.
“Martin my boy! What are you doing up here? Finally come round to sense?” The voice is chipper yet somehow menacing.
One of the armored warrior caste men is approaching, waving at Martin as he comes, an overly wide smile on his face. He's an ugly human of average build with brown hair and a jagged scar running down the right side of his face. At my side Martin tenses, his face twisting momentarily into a snarl of rage, before he recovers himself.
“Well, lady, here's your fountain – as promised. Good luck and for the love of the Five please don't wander The Lows.” Martin hisses out at me, before turning on his heel and breaking into a run. He gets about three steps before blindly charging into another armored human's arm – it catches him about the throat and slams him to the ground.
“Now, now Marty boy – don't try to run out on me so quickly. You haven't even said 'hello'!” The man who called out has arrived – along with two more of the armored humans. The three of them stand around us – the man who'd hit Martin having quickly backed off after knocking him down.
“And …who's this with you?” The man is looking at me now. Exchanging uncertain glances with the other two, seemingly genuinely confused. I want to sigh. Or tear my hair out. Or tear their heads off. Why are the humans so idiotically aggressive? Why is there concern at my presence only an afterthought to their apparently more important goal of capturing Martin. Why is he so important? Is he a king or something? Or are these humans just being suicidally rude? Ahhhh.
I close my eyes. Taking a deep – and wholly unnecessary – breath. I knew it would be like this. I knew there would be rude people and I resolved myself. No killing or maiming or even grinding the sanity of these creatures into dust. It wouldn't be productive. Like water over a stone, I'll let it roll past me.
“Eh, seems she doesn't want anything to do with this boss.” A voice says.
“That right? You know this girl Marty?” Another.
“...no, never seen her before today.” Sullen resignation.
“Well that's good. I was worried you'd found yourself an important girlfriend for a second there Marty! I don't know why. Of course that could never happen!” Boisterous laughter follows.
They're ignoring me. The humans are ignoring me. That's for the best, obviously, and yet…
“So Martin. Since I heard you were coming all the way up here – I went ahead and prepared your papers. All you need is to sign your name! You'll get the finest Imperial training, they'll hone you into something useful Marty! See the world! And all you have to do is sign your damn name.”
“How'd you know I'd be here Karr?”
“Little bird told me kiddo. Lotta eyes in the Lows – you don't really think you can avoid them all do you? But what difference does it make Marty? You're here, I'm here and everyone has to do their five. If you volunteer a year early you'll get preferential treatment on The Frontline – it's a good deal!”
“And I've told you no Karr. I know my duty, and I'll do it when the time comes, but I can't go right now. My sister can't survive without me. You know this. I've told you.”
“You're right Marty. Feels like we've had this conversation one too many times.” The man's voice has taken an edge. “You gotta learn, kids are tough, they don't need nannies lookin' after them all the time – your sisters no different. Maybe if you take a few months of bed rest you'll see what I mean.”
With three men there was no way for Martin to keep them all in his sight line. And taking that line as a cue the man behind him steps forward and slams the short wooden club he's carrying into Martin's back. The boy gasps as the air is driven from his lungs and he collapses to the ground. The armored men close in – one driving his metal-plated boot into Martin's ribs, the other preparing another strike with his club.
At the sound of the humans pummeling each other – or really the gang of humans pummeling the other human – I can't help but open my eyes. Disbelief raging inside me. To be ignored is one thing. Unacceptable but tolerable – maybe. But in what culture is it acceptable to attack another's servant? An attack on a servant is an attack on the master. And while the human child's service was brief in the extreme – he did serve me and is now being attacked directly before my eyes. So if I make some action here – it's not really a result of my pride right? I can firmly say I've held that in check … no matter what happens.
“I don't like doin' this Marty” The man – Karr – says with a poorly concealed grin. “But it's a nasty old world. You know the score same as I do. If a recruitment officer don't meet his quotas he gets shipped off to the Frontline – and you're skinny ass is going out there either way, so why you gotta make my life difficult before you go you shitty ashborn?”
I've collected myself I think. For a moment there my head was filled with idiot thoughts about taking action on behalf of a servant. A human servant. Which – really? Come on. Not even if it meant I could drop to the ground and sleep for the rest of eternity. I am Alexandria – I have my pride. Thus resolved I turn my back on the humans – looking up at the fountain – and step away.
“Where the hell are you going bitch?” A hand grabs my shoulder as I hear those words.
Oh. Even as I'd resolved to ignore them. A human touched me. Hah. Hah. Hah.