The sky was shiny and fresh, with a few meandering clouds high in the sky. Brimming with activity and denizens, the soundscape around was filled with noise, from speaking words to many clopping hooves accompanying running wheels.
The streets ahead seemed rather narrow, with no distinguishing separation between side pavement and road; the buildings around seemed slightly taller and were certainly wider, having little gaps between them despite not being conjoined. Besides a few patches of flora evidently present for decoration, there was not a single aspect of nature or dirt. Everything was paved; everything was constructed; everything was designed and seemingly to quality.
Truly, it was as if she were in a completely different city than the one she had observed the day before; the contrasts were stark, indeed. Despite this large city not necessarily being so large, it nevertheless was certainly…inconsistent in what it appeared to be.
Antica had not left the Company headquarters and compound too long ago. However, as to where she was exactly going and where she even was…both remained obscure to her, frankly. Colonel Faulkner’s orders, after all, were rather vague. He wanted her to just wander around and observe yet had not specified any parameters on which to target her focus; thus, both her focuses and wandering were…rather aimless.
Indeed, she simply observed whatever happened to attract her immediate attention.
Hmm… She peered up at the sky, evaluating those Company-affiliated balloons above… Such simple contraptions, indeed; nothing more than a floating basket attached to a large enveloping bag filled with heated air, exploiting the density differences between hot and cold air to cause an upward force. It was obvious that the two to three personnels stationed on them had limited navigation control and their exact patrol routes were left to the whims of the winds; many were held in place by tethers of sorts, in fact.
Their altitude was rather low and had adequate view of those below; the winds at their layer were very calm, so they casually drifted afloat.
As Antica continued to peer at the sky, tactically avoiding the sun’s retina-burning glare, a rather different balloon eventually revealed itself, traveling fairly low. This one was far more complex of a contraption, the body being less of a basket and more of a…tiny boat-like shape, with eight to ten personnel stationed. The air-filled envelope was larger and had a pointer and more aerodynamic shape, with ‘fin’-like protrusions on its back. There was a propeller of sorts at the butt of the ‘boat’ itself, one that was most likely hand-driven.
Interesting… Antica stared at this flying boat of a thing as it passed by above, evidently moving independent of the wind. Primitive and most certainly of dubious safety, she would nevertheless consider that to be a genuine aircraft compared to those floating baskets. Although… She did not recall seeing any such aeronautical machines in Coastfield nor even here the day before.
This flying boat of a ballon had likely just arrived or was perhaps returning from some other matter, for it was heading in the direction of the Company’s headquarters.
Hm… Regardless, after it passed by, Antica swiftly resumed her aimless strolling… Not necessarily knowing where to go, she opted to follow the direction she had noticed the large hauling wagons were tending towards. As she did so, however, she became better attuned to the…rather different sense she was getting from the environment around.
Balloons in the sky were becoming much less prevalent, especially with respect to the areas she had been in the day before; this suggested reduced security concerns from the Company. A simple inspection of the denizens around showed that…most of them had little interest in her. No watching eyes or antagonistic glares like she had received before; no flags or armband-wearing persons either, besides her herself.
The denizens themselves, of course, were… Well, they were denizens doing denizen things. Talking, walking, gossiping, heckling, hailing, arguing, laughing, with a few children running about unsupervised. The area she was entering seemed quite active, the streets no longer as narrow.
Observing around, she identified tall and wide residential buildings of sorts, yet they seemed… Hmm…
‘Flashy’? If such was the correct word… Decorated and… Hmm… Ambiguously different from typical residential facilities—she had not the descriptors, only the vague feeling that these were not…typical or conventional residential facilities, especially with the amount of what seemed to be formalized and uniformed custodian-esque personnel out and about their vicinity.
Antica continued to identify more facilities as she strolled, some being specialized in the production and servicing of cooked meals—these were not ‘taverns’, even if similar. Though, of course, she did identify proper taverns alongside other such amenities. She also identified shops that seemed to sell a myriad of things—trinkets, qualitied clothing, jewelry, cosmetics, even primitive mechanical gizmos, et cetera. There was quite the diversity of facilities overall, indicating that this area was not a specialized district but mixed—containing bits of everything.
However, what she did not seem to notice as she continued following this route, was the distribution and selling of…common ‘goods’ that she was most accustomed to seeing in general marketplaces. No apparent supplies of foodstuffs such as grain or rice or even…baked bread, beyond those served and cooked meals—the prices of which were evidently…well…evident.
And although niche novelties were also things she could find in a ‘common market’, there were also bare essentials and necessities most tended to need to go about their daily lives—tools, cloth paddings, the list was rather endless. These, however, were absent from any of these shops; novel and niche trinkets were all they sold—of which, again, were pricy.
Certainly, the environment around was lively and active, the air filled with no complaints beyond the mundane. Hmm… Yet, she observed… The denizens about had a rather…diverse array of appearances, particularly in attire and in hats—in fact, Antica seemed to be the only one without something on top of her head.
Nevertheless, this diversity was most evident in their speakings and voices; their accents seemed varied and collectively inconsistent… It was evident from her initial observations upon entering this city and her prior aimless wandering that…there seemed to be a specific dialect or sub-variety of local tongue unique to this locality, but none of the denizens in her immediate proximity seemed to be speaking in that fashion, or maybe… Hmm…
Truly, she was not at all a Green-Coat, and her still throbbing mind struggled to deduce anything meaningful from these observations.
Nevertheless, she persisted. She wandered and observed, aimless yet targeted…
Before, abruptly, she paused as she eyed the way ahead, standing herself aside. There was prominent…not necessary a wall but most certainly a gated barrier…which blocked and split. The barrier encircled and segregated an entire segment of this settlement, with the pavement that was not directly cut by it wrapping around. The wide gate itself was open, yet two guards were stationed at its flanks.
Hmm… Interesting… Well, Antica knew where she was going.
-|-
“Oi! And whither do thou think be going?” The left guard immediately blocked the way with his spear, seeing that a sudden and never-seen-before passerby was about to so casually stroll through that open gate; “Thou can’t just walk through, lady. We’ve never seen thou before neither.”
That doomed-to-fail plan obviously failing, Antica had paused in place with a loose sigh…
These two guards were lightly armored, wearing a simple steel breastplate alongside a layer of chainmail over a darkish blue padded tunic of sorts, with an open kettle helmet atop their heads. They were armed with a simple spear and had a simple and light crossbow strapped to their figures, the bolts of which were within a belt-affixed quiver.
It was immediately evident to her that these two armored and armed persons were rather…different from the typical guards she had observed throughout this settlement prior; they lacked any clear insignia of affiliation, likewise.
“I give the sorry. I am new here, so I do not know my way around…” Antica thus spoke; “What is this…place? Why this…barrier?”
“This is the trader’s heart district. Only citizens of the burgher estate, registered traders and approved distributors, members and affiliates of the merchant’s guild, servants and member of the council, or the like are allowed.” the right guard explained.
“Not random scavers or any resident.” the left guard so added.
“Thou must have proof on your person that demonstrates thou are a…” the right guard was saying, before his eyes finally noticed… Quite suddenly, he grasped Antica’s left arm, yanking it slightly as he tried to ascertain that which was affixed… “What’s this armband, huh?” His reaction came before he processed the armband’s details, seemingly.
Antica, of course, tolerated this suddenty, suppressing any triggered defensive instincts.
“This United Trade’s banner, no?” The right guard recognized.
“Yes, I am with the United Company…” Antica confirmed…
Calming, the right guard let go, Antica promptly fixing her accosted sleeve. “Sorry about that…” he thus apologized; “We’ve had plenty of armband wearing freaks try to push their ways through…”
“Hmh. When did the Company begin issuing armbands, anywhat?” the left guard pondered; “Never seen them do that, nor hire a woman… And why thou be masked suchly? Huh?” His voice was evidently suspicious.
“I am a volunteer in the service of the Company, and you ask too many questions…” Antica was honest and frank; “Volunteers like me are issued these armbands; I was tasked to investigate.” She tried not to say more than necessary.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
“Hm…” The left guard mumbled, though did not necessarily relax… He had valid cause to be suspicious, yet…there was not much about Antica’s blunt demeanor that conveyed suspicion.
The right guard ultimately shrugged; “Oh, relax…” His eyes looked at his left stationed peer; “Thou know well how the Company is, best not to step on its matters… No siree, best not to!” He returned sight to her; “Well, seeing that thou are with the Company, thou are an approved entry. So, I see no reason to prohibit…”
The left guard, with an acquiescing sigh, lifted his spear away. “Yeah, fine… Go on in, then. But do not violate the laws of this zone. Company or not, once thou step beyond, it is a different code.”
-|-
Wide, open, spacious, yet also dense and tight; a large plaza zone of sorts, it almost seemed. It was flaring with activity; quite frankly, it was perhaps overwhelming to her senses. So much noise, so much clutter, so many denizens and wagons and hauling animals; it was difficult to ascertain what was even going on.
However, Antica quickly grounded herself and leveled her senses; with deep breaths, she focused, prioritized, and thus began to explore this…strange segregated sector of this settlement.
Denizens of all sorts, she observed; primarily what were presumably merchants and traders, although there were freelancer mages here and there. The streets were very wide, designed to accommodate wagons that were considerably larger and heavier than average—ones stuffed with so much stuff that they had to be drawn by bovine animals such as ‘oxen’ and the like.
Distributed in a somewhat organized fashion throughout what was essentially a very large and empty space were vendors who had established improvised stands that were likely temporary, their wagons on display with their cargo of crates, boxes, sacks, and the like. The exact merchandise varied considerably. Crates of materials, crates of animal skin and fur, crates of cloths or shoes and such, and so on. This large and spacious zone was seemingly designed to accommodate if not encourage this activity.
This segregated zone did have buildings and a few facilities, although they seemed primarily dedicated to warehouse storage, wagon depots, and amenities—places to rest, consume, relieve, and socialize. Located in the far end within its own tiny revulsive compound was what appeared to be the chief administrative building of not just this zone but the entire city, which had its own fences. Around that area, there seemed to be more residential oriented facilities, though she would have to head all the way over directly to them in order to confirm.
There were a few old pillars and stone brick constructions scattered about, she identified; there was an indication that a much larger compound of sorts had once existed in this zone. Likewise, she spotted a building that stood out quite; it was old and made of the same type of stone bricks as those scattered remains. Seeing the abundancy of security personnel around it, it was likely being used as their barracks.
And, indeed, the security forces of this segregated zone were similarly armored and armed to those two she had encountered at the entry, although varied in the exact details—evidently not standardized. Nevertheless, they remained very separately distinct from the ordinary guards stationed throughout the rest of this city.
Hmm… Interesting.
Antica continued to cautiously stroll and observe the activities that were happening around… Truly, it was like one gargantuan open market of sorts, yet one hardly normal or typical. Indeed, in spite of the evident noise, the actual commercial activities and bartering taking place seemed awfully quiet, patient, and personal… As if negotiating and discussing.
And at no point did she observe any single item distributed be sold individually; every transaction and exchange were only of entire crates or otherwise large bulks—in some instances, it seemed that entire wagon’s loads were purchased.
Indeed, this was a large marketplace by merchants for merchants and the like, it became clear… Suppliers providing bulks of supplies to other suppliers.
Hm… Even so, she still did not see why…they had to barrier off this entire zone and restrict access to everyone else. And why did this specific zone seemingly operate an entirely separate security force from—
Antica abruptly paused, all of her thoughts shifting focus as she noticed within this sea of activity…a rather peculiarly parked wagon in the distance ahead; one rather large and being loaded by a lone freelancer mage… Yet it was what was seemingly being loaded that caught her attention…
Strawberries: the same kind Colonel Faulkner had showed her… And it was dozens and dozens of crates stuffed full of them.
Huh… Interesting. This had caught her focus because… The day before, she had clearly noted and heard… “Six silvers for every two of the strawberries,” she mumbled in recall, « énquitne? » Such a price would nominally indicate a shortage of supply—that was how such worked, right? Yet there she stared, seemingly hundreds of them being loaded… And most certainly, those crates had not spontaneously appeared—that freelancer and that wagon had purchased them from somewhere.
Hm… Well, there was only one way to discover where that somewhere was. Antica thus promptly headed way.
-|-
The freelancer mage, sweating and with sore arms, carefully placed crate after crate into the back of that wagon so parked off in its own little spot; away from the rest, away from the noise.
“Phew!” She wiped the sweat off her forehead, extending her arms as she attempted to stretch her back; “Ouch! Fuck! Why did I do that?” She tsked aloud in pain; “Ow, ow, ow, ow!” she repeated. “Ugh… Gods’ sacred… Brought all of these crates with his big doohickey, but didn’t even bother to help… ‘Oh, hey, I’m paying you, rightly? Why don’t you help’…” Her voice mocked; “Fuck you too… Why don’t you try freezing a bunch of berries…”
Climbing onto the wagon, she adjusted one of the crates that seemed to be in perhaps too risky of a position. These crates had open tops but were designed such that they could be stacked, having a gap between the strawberries and the bottom of the crate on top. This also made them…slightly more unstable and prone to tipping over.
Sighing, the freelancer mage looked at the wagon as a whole… The animal that drew it was absent, being with her employer and most certainly helping him drag more. The strawberries themselves were not their pristine pink; stiff and sour, they should ripen by journey’s end.
Though… “Not even a covering tent… Does he not understand how air works? I am going to be wasting mana keeping them cold…” the freelancer lamented the lack of any entrapping insulation; “Ugh… Clearly an amateur would-be up-starter… I mean he’s kinda hot, but ugh…” she nearly groaned, talking to herself; “Just to Wafflegate… Thank the Gods that’s not too far…”
“Hello!” Suddenly, a voice came lancing.
Immediately struck, “Woah! Who the fuck?!” the freelancer mage nearly lost her balance and fell backwards. Her head so quickly flung to the side, seeing that randomly arriving masqueraded other just standing there idling by. “Who are you? What do you want?” She so promptly interrogated, rebounding from the fright; “Where did you even come from, and and… What’s with that mask? Why are you masked?” Her voice was naturally guarded.
Antica stood there, attempting to make herself appear non-threatening, for it was clear this mage was already suspicious of her. “I give sorry, I did not mean to startle you so.” she apologized, yet her sociability was clearly rusted in voice; “I was simply curious, since I saw that you were…uhm…putting those crates of the strawberries into your wagon…”
“Duhuh. Yeah. And?” Yet the freelancer mage did not become any friendlier. With a fairly blunt eye, she hopped off the wagon whilst grabbing her staff, which had a pointed dagger-like pummel at its end. “This is our cargo. And you didn’t answer, why are you masked like that? Don’t get me wrong, it’s a pretty lovely mask, but…” Her right shoulder shrugged as if nudging intention’s doubt.
“It is the…cultural…thing from where I come—you may tell from my accent that I am alien.” Antica replied; “And, relax, I am with the Company, I am not here to…”
“Oh, I have eyes. I saw your armband.” the freelancer immediately stated; “And, you know, like… Just because you’re wearing some armband that has the Company flag on it, I’m supposed to immediately believe you’re actually with the Company?” Her voice was slightly passive-aggressive; “I mean, it’s not like I even know where you even got that thing from, rightly? And I don’t remember United Trade ever giving their employees or affiliates armbands either, never mind them hiring normal girls…like, ever.”
Antica…already could infer where this was going. “Listen, I just want to know from where did you get these strawberries. That is all.” The bluntness in her voice was probably not helping this situation.
“Well, I mean, like…if you were with United Trade and were sent here by them, you should, like, already know where we got these from, rightly?” The freelancer remained no less skeptical, indeed.
“You are doubting me, but the guards permitted my entry. They would not have done so if they did not trust that I was with the Company. Is not that enough?” Antica thus stated.
Yet the freelancer mage passively scoffed with a blowing cheek; “Girl, the civic guard don’t give a shit. Their pay’s protected, and they won’t be scrutinized for whatever happens to our cargo.” she bluntly stated; “But me on the other hand? I am being paid to not only freeze this stuff, but to also protect it, and supervise it, and ensure nothing stupid happens. So, you know, I give, like, just a tiny little more of a shit to be extra scrutinizing of a random masked stranger. And every armband wearing person I’ve had to deal with has been someone looking to steal or pull a robbery.” Her voice seemed stressed.
Antica sighed… This was certainly not how she predicted this exchange would turn out. She did not know what to say to make this denizen any less distrusting of her intentions.
“Look, girl. I know I’m being a bitch, but it’s my job. I’m not getting a good sense from you, so, you know, I don’t want to be involved either way. If you’re actually being honest, I respectfully ask that you just back off and—” She was saying, but then abruptly paused as her eyes found themselves downwards, having taken notice… “Hey, wait… I’m sorry, what?” Her head tilted; “Girl, are you wearing soldier boots or something? What even is that material? Not leather…”
« … » Right… Having no other so-called ‘casual’ footwear, she still wore her Remnant boots; it certainly made her stick out to those who bothered to notice. Although, wait… “I should have clarified that I am with the Company’s military, not their trades peoples or whoever.” she thus opted to disclose; “I was originally a volunteer from Coastfield; they allowed ladies to join due to emergency needs, and we were issued these armbands to separate us from the others.”
“Duhuh…” the freelancer mage, somewhat taken by surprise from this sudden story, mumbled… “Coastfield? You’re from…Coastfield?”
“Yes.” Antica’s voice was matter-of-fact. “So, I have never been to this city before, and I have no ideas of where I am or what this barriered place is. I am new, and I was not told many details, only that I must note observations. I am unable to tell you anything more than this.”
Hearing this, the freelancer mage’s demeanor did loosen slightly… “Alrightly, I mean… Sure, I have heard about the those Coastfield volunteers, but… I mean, like, if you are one… What in all thousand realms are you doing this far down central?”
Yet Antica just lightly shrugged; “I ask that same question all of these days, to be honest.” Her voice was so very frank and…not necessarily dishonest, either.
The freelancer stared momentarily, before her throat snorted in a suppressed giggle of sorts… “Alrightly, actually, you know what, actually, I think I’m starting to like you just a little…” She ultimately giggled; “I change my mind” She relaxed, becoming less guarded.
“So… Wait, does this mean that you believe me now?” Antica tilted her head.
“I mean, like… Out of all the contrived stories someone could say, that’s very not what I’d expect… Still don’t get the sense you’re telling the full truth, but you’re being completely serious” the freelancer replied; “So, it means I’m willing to point the direction. And, honestly… Like, since I’ve been here maybe too many times I do know a thing or two, so I wouldn’t even mind answering a question or two, but…” She turned herself around, staring at the presently neglected cargo… “I’ve wasted maybe way too much time…”
“Hm. How about this,” Antica stepped forward, “I will assist you with remainder of these crates, and then we can talk after. And, provided that there is still time, you answer my questions…so that I am less confused, because…I am confused.”
“That’s a way to ask that, but… Hmm…” The freelancer looked at Antica, still not necessarily certain if she should let this stranger near their cargo… However, she then relooked at the wagon and those strawberry crates… “I mean, like, you are offering, but…” She sighed; “Yeah… I could use the help, actually…”