PART ONE - A TALE OF BIRDS AND FLIGHT
Ley loitered on a barstool in a tavern, his pockets as empty as his stomach. The runt of a man had a little sister back home to feed. He didn’t care what it’d take either. Thieving, begging, boot shining, you name it. Making it in Low Monestate was an uphill battle won by only the most fit and wicked. Those who failed ended up dead in the alleys and streets, their final days numbed by goblin dust.
All kinds of people surrounded Ley on stools at wooden tables. Working folk like farmers and fishers got blackout drunk. Armored mercenaries and vagrants told stories, started rumors, and rounded up parties. Monestate’s apathetic guards loitered at the doorways. They wore chainmail and red tabards branded by the king’s insignia.
The law wasn’t paid enough to care about most crime, Ley’s included. He picked out a victim to pickpocket among the tavern crowd without fear of the dungeons or arrest. Instead, what made his heart race was the competition from his own pond. Bigger fish nobody dared cross or poach from like Rath Ghul.
Ley got up from his seat and leaned against a pillar. He stared at a lone drunk in bronze plate armor and noted his chance of success to be high. The stranger made the mistake of leaving his satchel carelessly behind his chair. Ley snuck up, nearing the prize, until noticing a copper longsword dwelling at the victim’s hip. An orange dragon’s eye opened on its hilt, glaring into his soul.
The blade warned him. “Looking to be skewered?”
Ley jumped and backed up. A machina!
With his hands up, he worked to de-escalate it from lashing out. “You’re mistaken. I was just passing by.”
“Leave my presence before I make you regret being born, human.”
Ley obliged, hurrying off to the other side of the tavern. That was close…
Almost a millennium ago, humanity staged a great rebellion. Victorious, they sealed the gods that once ruled and graced Ailmor into metal. From that metal, the machina were forged. Those who now controlled machina controlled Ailmor. These haunted weapons and their wielders reigned. They sparked and ended wars, nations, and peoples.
What could possibly go wrong with such power falling into the hands of the common man?
Ley shook off his goosebumps and moved on to another target. This one was a wounded adventurer in scale armor. His elbow was in a sling. With an exhausted voice, he vented to a man undoubtably asleep across the table.
Ley eavesdropped in on the one-sided conversation. “So, I get to the bottom of this crypt alone, last one standing, and found nothing. Just this useless, dusty old dagger on a pedestal.”
The guy across the table drooled, snoring. Not much a talker. The adventurer went on. “Those dumb-ass skeletons were dancin’ and worshippin’ around it like it was a god. Four rookies died for this. For trash. No merchant will give me anything worth the trouble.”
He slammed a rustic dagger onto the table and buried his face into his arms. “Ailmoran Dream my ass. This is it for me. I don’t want to go back to the fields.”
Ley snuck up, snatched the blade, and vanished into the busy tavern’s crowd. On his way out the front door, he nodded to the guard who witnessed and ignored his theft. Though old, the dagger still had an edge to it. Its unreadable decorative etchings excited him. He traveled some blocks until meeting the waterside ledge of the city’s western channel used for trade and ferrying.
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Ley followed it home to where his little sister, Sasha, waited. Warm, evenly spaced lantern lights hanging from chains illuminated the water. A couple chilled on the docks, legs hanging from the edge. Some shady men in suits rowed in a canoe, the centermost of the group handcuffed to an ominous steel suitcase.
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Across the channel, another man kneeled with his forehead against the ground, begging a cloaked gang to spare his life. They weren’t having any of it and about beat him to death. Loan sharks? From the bricks tied to his ankles, you could guess what would come next. Ley moved on, quickening his pace, as a squeamish cry and splash echoed into Monestate’s night.
These sounds were the city’s ambiance, no different than bird and insect chirping. They reminded some residents that they were dead. Others were reminded that they were alive. Ley flexed his hand, noting his missing ring finger, and sighed. He was lucky.
The deeper Ley got into Low Monestate, the worse off it got. Multistorey buildings disappeared, replaced by cheap wooden shacks, longhouses, and dark alleyways between long-abandoned government projects.
Tucked away amid an unmanaged oasis of trees and bushes sprouting to reclaim the cityscape, a shed terrible by even Low standards stood. Ley navigated through all the greenery to reach the front door. He straightened his broken posture before knocking rhythmically.
The shaking of chains rattled in his ears until the front door creaked open, revealing a girl with a soft, pale face and green eyes. Sasha let him in with a tight hug. “I’m glad to see you back in one piece,” she mumbled.
“Me too. Me too.”
She was frail and two years younger with messy brunette hair that went to her shoulders. Ley never let it get much longer than his own hair. Before their mother died, she drilled into them a fear of Monestate’s criminals who targeted women. The less Sasha looked like a girl, the better.
Only so much could be done though. Sasha was maturing, and men didn’t usually wear earrings. Especially emerald ones like her.
She inspected Ley, expecting something. “How did the day go?”
Ley emptied his satchel on a rickety table in the center of their shed. Since they didn’t have real flooring other than dirt, they sat on layers of carpets, blankets, and mats scavenged from the city.
Their choices were bruised fruits and a half-eaten loaf of bread. Even though the dinner looked bleak, it still brought giddiness onto Sasha’s face. Like a flower absorbing sunshine, Ley could’ve run off her smiles alone.
He explained the day to her. “I know it’s not much, but nobody was feeling charitable. Not even the churches. That old preacher, Daren, threatened to skin me. Skin me!” Ley showed off the dagger. “But then I went and found this cool little thing, so I’m feeling all better. It’ll get us a silver or two if I can find a proper fool. Think of all the bread it’ll buy us.”
Sasha squinted at the dagger in suspicion. “Did you steal that?”
He danced around the accusation. “I found it.”
She pouted at him. He repeated. “I found it.”
She pouted even harder, this time with a judging squint. He shrugged. “Maybe I did steal it. So what?”
“Mom raised us honest.”
Ley raised his finger to declare a fact. “Mom was honest. She died anyway. Now it’s just us. We’d be dead too if I was too afraid to get my hands dirty. I…” He never finished the sentence.
“It’s just that you worry me sometimes.”
“Why? We’re making it, aren’t we?” Ley pointed at their rusted tin walls. They creaked. He wasn’t making much of a great case.
“Because you’re a dummy.”
“Dummy? I’m trying my best here. Be grateful.”
“I am grateful, but you’re the dummiest dummy in this city of dummies.”
An imaginary arrow shot through Ley’s chest. He looked bitter. “Are you upset?”
She shook her head. “No, but you’re all I have. You come home every night cut or beat up. You even lost a finger. I’d rather not eat anything if it meant knowing you’d be safe.”
Ley flexed his hand. It was his favorite finger too. “You’re really letting me have it today, Sasha. You in a bad mood?”
“Maybe a little. I’ll be the better sibling and apologize, just this once though. Sorry for hurting your feelings.”
“You really are something. It’ll take much more than calling me a dummy to ruin my day, Sasha. Hell—I mean heck, you could stab me and I wouldn’t care.”
“Could be a good nickname though. Has a nice ring to it, right?”
He sighed. “I don’t have the energy for your sass right now.”
They sat crisscross from each other as Sasha ate. Ley always waited for her to finish. If she never did, then he went to bed hungry.
She gave him a curious head tilt. “You going to eat any?”
“I ate earlier at the tavern. You go ahead.”
Most of his words were lies. Sometimes small, sometimes big, he kept Sasha in the dark about anything negative that would sadden her. Problem was, nothing about their situation proved positive.
Ley dealt with things she’d never know. Things that would make her cry, and seeing her cry would make him hate himself. His stomach growled. The obnoxious sound embarrassed him. It irritated Sasha. She rejected whatever was left, pushing it back his way.
Ley broke the silence. “My bad.” He chewed on his share of bread. It was sour, hard, and not enough to sate himself.
Later after snuffing out their candlelight for bed, Ley stared up at the ceiling restlessly. They shared a single rough mattress and blanket. As Sasha lay there passed out, the forlorn natural noises of Low Monestate kept him up.
As normal as they were, he never got used to them. Sometimes, he heard the cries of children and women and wondered if they were related to the mass kidnappings. Other times, it was the footsteps and delusional rambling of drug fiends searching far and wide for goblin dust. They got too close for comfort.
All Ley knew was that, if shit went down, he’d be ready. He’d fight tooth and nail to preserve the only thing that ever mattered to him. With that rusty dagger clenched in hand, he passed out by morning and awoke a mere hour later with Sasha. He would drop her off for work and then, once again, do his best.