> “The Islands are home to perhaps the most diverse cities of rival guilds, called 'Tongs' by their citizens, while the popular idea of a Dramorsi is that of the Pirate or Criminal, the islands are home to people who specialize in several different disciplines. Anything from Carpet makers, Spice merchants, Trackers, Hunters, Glassmakers, Smiths, Engineers, Bankers, and Miners, to name a few. The largest Tongs of course, belong to the Nobility, but they are directly opposed by commoner Tongs, usually from their largest city, Nitani, home to a self-reported five million souls. Perhaps the most secretive are the Lightfoot Mutts, led by the mysterious Beggar King. With the unification of the islands, Nitani stands as a paradise where the common man can work beside, and not for, a man of noble birth. Oh, and don’t make a habit of being a mage in this city; for whatever reason, we find that all classes equally dislike Mages.”
>
> -Arinha Sariel, Captain Diary of the “Sojourn Solace,” Moudrahai (Wise Elf) from Veii.
The cold tiles pressed against his back, the air knocked out of his lungs; Katel rolled over and staggered to his feet. The loose shingles scraped against each other until they found the edge of the building, meeting the ground with a shatter followed by a surprised scream. His heart pounded against his chest as his legs finally stiffened, and he pushed himself further.
“Why do stupid stuff like this? All you had to do, Katel was to swipe a purse, but no, you had to follow that stupid crown! I have to tell Bagir, ahh shit I have to tell HIM!… Morna dammit he is gonna be pissed, but he needs to know, I hate being curious!” he thought, running across the rooftops, careful not to slip on the angled tiles as he made his way to the hall. The night sky bristled with stars bearing their light to the world, unmatched by none but the moon, half covered in the darkness of the goddess Brek.
“Not the best time for a rooftop chase, Lady Brek; if you could swallow the moon a bit more, at least then I could make use of this damn-”
“Over there!” a voice rang.
Just behind him, he could hear the pattering of metal boots on tiles, shouts in their hissing like tongues soundly from this distance, much like growls, and gave his legs the energy they needed to evade faster. The rattle in his false heel worried him, but his eyes remained fixed on the rooftop spines as he ran across them, jumping between edges and landing on the planks that lined others ' homes.
He tried again to use the casting he picked up, but due to the pursuer's wards or his own, the interference and lack of time to focus frustrated his attempts.
After coming across a wide gap, Katel spotted a clothing line and leaped toward it, landing gently on the wire and running its length to a nearby window. As he dove inside, he curled at the last second and rolled forward until he hit a bedframe; a shocked elderly woman gasped as he rolled to his feet and apologized before dashing out her bedroom door into the common space of their palazzo and down the dark alleyway, still heading in the right direction. Now on the street level, Katel swiftly ducked, tucked, and rolled between the winding network of alleys and streets. The scent of the Scale goons grew further; he could feel his face twist into a smile as he ran faster, easily putting distance between them.
The pursuers cursed and raved from the rooftops, but soon he could no longer hear them; he safely found his way into the Hast Quarter, by all means, a slum dressed in colorful liveries, decals, the fragrance of the spice market, and the around-the-clock taverns, Inns, and brothels.
Stopping to catch his breath, Katel caught a powerful but foreign smell in the air. He made eye contact for a brief moment with a pair of new marks, both hooded, a fact he didn’t care about or found odd, given many highborns came here for sensual pleasures, all of them hooded, many sought to hide their faces, which rightfully so. Their thick scents gave them away as definitely mainlanders, but from which country or even which mainland, he did not know. Katel shook his head and walked away from the pair as he focused on The Hall’s red doors; Grinlack stood vigilant as always. The wide-shouldered, square-jawed, dark-skinned man with an even darker beard and mop of hair caused Grinlack to appear like a statue to most. It's been home for years, and every time without fail, Katel felt startled to see the big man peer down at him.
“Grin, anyone beat me here yet?” Katel asked while sizing up the big man’s purse.
“Ain’t you supposed to be out on a job, eh?” he responded, tilting Katel’s head away from his coin purse.
“Job’s done, Grin, I am just asking if I am first past the post, ya know, I would be dammed if I get last this time!”
Grinlack laughed, his chest heaving as he did, then almost at the snap of a finger, he was straight-faced.
“Aye, you're the first back. Bagir is inside on the loo, but he was just talking to some odd folk, not from here, pointy ears like you, but one them proper ones.”
“We get highborns all the time, Grin,” Katel said, this time taking a swipe at the purse.
Grinlack blocked his attempt and swiveled the young elf behind him, facing the door.
“Not from here, I said; you might be quick, but you still poor at listening, aint ya?”
Katel laughed and pressed forward; the door opened without a sound, and the smell of carp filled his nose as he made his way into the main Hall, illuminated by mage light instead of the usual candles.
“So, I am first this time; I mean, thats good, I am the swiftest, I am…screwed…, Katel…you can handle Bagir’s anger, you got this, sure you definitely didnt do what Bagir told you, and sure you broke into the one spot they said not to go, and sure you may have alerted The Scales, but you also learned something big, very big. Just breathe and see, look at us, look how easy that is? Just keep breathing, look calm, think calm.”
Bagir emerged from the restroom with a mug in hand and a friendly smile. Awkwardly, Katel waved as he approached, his heartbeat thumping in his ears.
“First back, lad? That’s great; how did you fare?” Bagir asked.
He gestured for Katel to sit across from him; the dish of Greenbill soup tickled his nose before he took a deep breath.
“I did calm-I mean, I am calm!” His voice pitched for a moment; Bagir cringed but still smiled.
“Okay… that doesn’t quite answer my question, lad; how did you fare?”
Katel only stared in response; he blinked and suddenly could feel his face turn red.
“I may have gone to the wrong place…I went to the Dome…I saw something going in, The Scales, they had-,”
Bagir held his hand up, his face stern, his smile gone.
“I told you, you specifically, not to go to the Dome, Katel; what were you thinking?”
Katel chewed his lip; his eyes focused on the Greenbill soup before him.
“Tell me you didn’t take anything from there?!”
“I didn’t!” Katel retorted.
“I mean, I was gonna but… I saw Lord Ysgran talking with The Bloodscale; he had a wagon with him, filled with gold, I think, I couldn’t see clearly.”
“Bloodscale? And Lord Ysgran? You mean the father, right?” Bagir asked, leaning back in his chair.
“Yes, he had that crown, the one from the funeral. He gave it to Bloodscale, and then they took him in the Dome, like by force.”
Bagir looked clueless for a moment; his neat mustache curled slightly up as he opened his mouth, only to shut it after seemingly dropping what he had to say.
“So you didn’t go inside, right?” he finally asked.
“No, I went inside, I stayed in the beams, but it was dark; I did see the other Tongs were inside though, well, like their Chiefs and lords, they started talking about taking over Hast and even getting you to move on, something about to the north. After that, Bloodscale said that Francesko is also a deadman for his ships.”
Bagir sat in thought; Katel felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Bagir stood and walked away, back toward the bar counter, filled his tankard with ale or maybe just water, with a soft clang, sat his mug down, and looked at the ceiling, his back turned still from Katel.
“Lad, empty your pockets.”
“M-my pockets?”
“Aye, your pockets, first or not, you still missed your job; you owe the Tong, pay it now, and there will be no more trouble.”
Katel felt a bolt flash down his spine.
“But this is my-,”
Bagir raised his hand again.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“Kid, do you understand that to be a Thief, you must steal what is valuable to a Theif? Right now, that sack of gems, ain’t it, You make noise, lots of noise, you took too long getting back, and now you brought the bloody Scales into our den. Katel, empty your pockets, nice and kindly!”
“No, I lost the Scales on the roofs. If they followed me, we’d all know that much sooner than I’d like,” he said to himself.
Bagir’s expression was anger hidden behind a calm facade, but his eyes were one of concern. The man was a father to Katel; the young man felt compelled to heed his orders. But the look in his father figure’s eyes brought anxiety. The young man saw it countless times, but he could Bagir was genuinely done with his antics tonight. He emptied his pouch, revealing a few golden rings, a green jewel, and six red gemstones. The older man approached and shifted the gems about using his index finger before tapping the table.
“That’s all I have,” Katel said.
Bagir sighed, walking over to a chest, lifting it, and bringing it to their table.
“This is the coffers, lad the hall is losing funds fast, bit o’badluck isnt enough to stop most thieves, but for us,” he whistled while mimicking with his hand a lifeless body on the floor or table, Katel supposed.
“It could mean life or death, I taught you that did I? Strange innit? When the times are good, you don’t work, busy learning spells or out on the ships. Then when times are tough, you want to theive about but not contribute. What is it you want, lad, a way out of Hast? Out of Nitani? Perhaps off the isles themselves, Orion, praise us, please.”
Katel removed a second pouch, filled with blue gems, much larger than the red.
“I want to go to the mainland, go see the world, all of heaven, just like you did.” Katel said under his breath. His hands fiddling with each other, up and over, down and up.
The world? Like me? I was a young lad, six or seven years younger than yourself. My folks were bad business, beat me, and even tried to sell me a couple of times. I didn’t leave for adventure; I left because I had no choice.”
Katel didn’t respond; he heard a version of this lecture before, although this was part was new.
Bagir Glorybeard was a man whose name invoked the idea of adventure in the hearts of all the Lightfoots and Mutts of the Hall; although a halfling commoner, he lived a long life, rare for the breed. His legendary status on Ostrov Dramor is perhaps as widely known as Lord Orion’s, god of the sea, and his deep hatred for the god of envy and kinslayers; unlike the gods, Bagir doesn’t bask in his accomplishments, he runs the Hast as the Beggar King, giving to the poor what the Lords refuse, most importantly however, Bagir Glorybeard was a father to not just him, but all the Lightfoots.
The door opened a time later, a voice rang out in the dark silence of Katel’s mind, he opened his eyes to see Inki standing in front of her followers. The sleep crust hugged the corners of his eyes as they shifted around the hall; Bagir disappeared, likely in his study or the training hall. The slam came from nowhere, a pair of wooden loafer-style boots appeared from the direction of the sound. Katel rubbed his eyes, meeting the gaze of Inki’s best friend, Elanthris, a coy smirk on her face.
“You’d be in chains by how you sleep, Kat; dreamed of me, did ya? I can’t blame you; I think I am growing into these quite well!” She said, pressing her finger against one of her generously sized breasts.
“You’d never last in that dream, Elanthris; leave him alone. Can’t you see he is embarrassed enough? Stop teasing the lad and let’s celebrate!” one of the faceless voices said.
Katel’s ears were red, but he was determined to counter her teasing; squeezing his fist tightly, Katel stood before Elanthris.
What would you do if I said it was true? The thought of you running around in my head made me lust so much I nearly drank myself stupid to quench my thirst.” Katel said, closing the distance between their faces.
Elanthris did not move, which caused Katel’s heart to race, thumping with such force that he assumed the whole hall could hear it. Ever stubborn, he pressed on, leaning closer and closer to help sell the tactic.
Just keep closing the distance; she will move first, keep eye contact,-,
Their lips met; her scent of Chyme Peppers, some unknown perfume, and the soft, almost wet touch relaxed his muscles; his mouth felt like it was sucking in the presence of another's… well, something. His eyes wandered frantically; others were shocked, some laughing; Inki’s expression was impatient while Elanthris kept her eyes closed. He looked down; her pouch hung from a thin string wrapped around her neck, nestled neatly between her bosom. A hand chopped through their lips like lightning; the two leaped and gave a considerable space, then saw it was Francesko, standing in between them, still posing as a Suna Monk. His sea salt-stained robes filled the room as he whipped left and right, no doubt having trouble seeing with his sun still fixed tightly by the red strap. He lifted his pruned fingers and took down the sun hat, revealing his fake balding head covered in a vagabond’s stew of leaves, dirt, and what looked like seaweed plastered hard into the mix.
“Busy making out and not heading for your rooms, I see, shameless; in my days as a Mutt, we complete our graduating task with a bit less…intimacy. You youth today have not a once of respect for your masters; this is what is wrong with-”
“We were just heading there now, Elanthris; let’s go!” Inki said with her gleaming smile.
Elanthris decided to make a performance of her departure, rolling into a backward cartwheel before launching herself into a complex series of somersaults, twisting midair before landing on the staircase next to Inki and continuing to walk up while winking at Katel, holding a white gemstone in her hand.
Clever girl, he mouthed, holding a key in his hand while waving her off.
Katel got up and walked toward his room, not having to go upstairs; his trip was relatively short. Seeing the same layout each time he opened his door was a change still, even after six years. His bed was nothing more than a shotty wooden frame he built with Bagir on the third day when he earned entry into the halls; for all the improvement in his woodworking, Katel couldn’t let himself tear down the bed and make a new one.
He laid down, letting the Nocturna carry him away to her realm of dreams, this time prepared for it.
The Sea bells rang; his mind knew already the morning had come. This day would be hard, he knew. He passed his first test, failed his second, and now the third, the task of determining if he was to become a complete Lightfoot. He dragged himself out of bed and toward his wardrobe, choosing his red long-sleeve tunic, mocs, a leather belt with various small hosters, and his black cloak.
He entered the hall among a different class of Mutts, all humans, a few Xinu, and what he assumed was a Nekobai. Her ears twitched at the soft, barely audible steps made by Francesko as he walked on the stage and read from a note that appeared to be serious; judging from his expression, it likely had something to do with what Katel had overheard.
“Alright, let’s get this sorted out, my little pups; you will today be the first of our graduates to have an…expediated ceremony; instead of coming up here and graciously taking your new cloaks, a new test is now underway, a much harder test than the second phase,” He said.
His gaze met Katel with an iron hardness to it. The Pack leaders watched from somewhere in the hall. Katel’s ears gave them away, but to exactly where, he didn’t know. Each masked their scent to blend in with the wood, stone, and brazier, no doubt on account of himself and the Xinu mutts, although he admittedly had no idea if Nekobai could smell like elves and half-humans could.
“All mutts are to form packs; each pack will choose an assignment from the Scroll of Silesa; this will bind you by oath with wards to help protect against enchanted traps and, if you are unlucky enough to get caught, will instantly transport you back to Hast, there you will need to double check if you have were followed.”
“Teleportation magic? Francesko hates using magic; what kinda test is this?” someone said from behind.
“Francesko used to really be a monk; see, I told you, when he meditates, I have seen the air around him shimmer, thats something only a combat artist would know!” Elanthris said, likely to Inki.
This isn't about graduating… Katel’s inner thoughts drowned out as the sounds of stone scraping on stone overwhelmed much of the murmuring.
Two lightfoots, their names forgotten to Katel, pushed the shrine of Silesa into the hall, the noise causing cringes in both Inki and Elanthris. It dawned on him, perhaps all too late, that he and Elanthris kissed last night; he stared at her lips while feeling his own.
“That is it; form your packs now and begin the planning phase of your assigned duties; those who complete it within two days will be considered full Lightfoots, those who fail will be reassigned, or you can leave the Tong altogether. I cannot lie to you, pups; things… will be hard going forward.”
Groups of allies and friends began forming packs; some even allied packs to packs, building coalitions that could empty a vault of gold in minutes if given a chance.. Katel felt soft fingers slide down the length of his right ear, turning into the motion so as not to fall. He once again met the enchanting face of Elanthris.
“You can join us; Inki doesn’t mind, don’t you?.” Elanthris said, almost purring her words.
She turned to Inki, who rolled her eyes; elated by the response, the girl pulled Katel toward their group. As an Atarga, Elanthris made it a point to use her natural alluring presence when thieving or putting on an act, but how she would use it to convince others always struck him wrong. He freed himself from her grip with a soft rerouting of his head. Expectedly, she turned around, her smile appeared genuine, but he had no way of telling if it was just another ability of her kind.
“I am not-”
“Nonsense, you never do anything with us, Kat; I thought we were friends!” Elanthris said, her eyes watering.
“I am, all of you, just…I don’t want to get you all in trouble even more so,” his eyes drifted over to Inki; the deep sections of curved skin made him wince.
“That wasn’t your fault; the Scales ambushed all of us; if it wasn’t for your quick thinking, worse could have happened, ya know?” Elanthris put her hand on his back; her rose-colored eyes caused his heart to throb. He stepped away, but her fingers gripped his neck tightly this time.
“You can’t run off this time, and I promise this time, we will all get out together intact, so cheer up, Kat!”
With that promise, Elanthris raised her hand high, and the others did the same; the Mutt sign of alliances struck, and Inki followed suit, as did Galos, Tris, and Delwyn. Katel sighed and met their hands; Elanthris squealing with joy, she hugged Inki and swirled her around.
“I will never understand those two,” Katel thought.
The hours passed, the Pack leaders departed, and Katel was alone in his room, attempting to find his boots. The fact that somehow someone moved them didn’t alarm him, but the fact Katel could see no forced entry stumbled him.
“No scent either; nothing is gone, just the boots. Who would steal boots?” he said aloud, rubbing his hand along the wood. Katel couldn’t feel any dust or splints along the surface.
“Too clean, but I also swept before returning after lunch.” This time, talking under his breath.
He estimated that the gem he hid in the fake heel was worth at least an entire bowl of silver; he sighed, sitting on the floor and running his hand through his auburn hair.
“Now I have nothing left; Bagir takes my stuff, I didn’t pass my second trial, now someone knows where I hide my stones… my stones…Elanthris still has my palestone!” He said, shooting up to his feet and out his room door.
He ran past a pair of Mutts hanging out in the halls, jumped over a second pair, and eventually went to the northern wing, where most girls stayed.
“Which room was it? 3B, right? No, it was three-something, 3…3… 3E!” he said; several eyes glared at him from across the hall, their faces covered by black robes and covers. He nervously waved at the girls before they moved on, no doubt gossiping about him.
Katel stopped by what looked to be a broken tool, not quite a screw handler, but not quite a pick; he leaned in closer, and a familiar scent met his nose. He thought back to the night he returned to Hast; the two mainlanders also carried a similar smell to them. But why did their scents appear here now? Although long gone, the fact this object had their scent bothered him. Who were those mainlanders, and what are they doing in his Hall?