The view from the building they ended up landing on was not able to cover the whole of Principia. All around them, the inner citty was buzzing with life. They had landed right inside the pulsating heart of the town and all of Secratia, really. The sight was surreal. The shadows of clouds and airships were blocking the sunlight and its reflection on the golden walls in irregular intervals. Those eerie patches of shadowy fog crept over gleaming perfection like dark rain clouds in the middle of a bright summer day.
But the farther one looked into the distance, the more the glimmer wore off. There, the buildings were smaller and rustier, built in the shadows of the glamorous town center, where sunlight could not reach. The filthy suburbs surrounded the burning center like a circle of sooty stones keeping the fire in control, dimly ignited by embers beneath the ashes.
Peace guards were tactically placed at every corner, white and steady spots between the always moving crowds. Neon’s features hardened immediately and he shot a very quick glance back to ensure that Bronze hadn’t run off yet. But up until now, the captain was still busy fixing his hair until every last wave of red remained covered up and hidden, the ponytail tugged behind his back.
Neon made a face. He ought to not go undercover at all. It was too risky for him. And it was not like the hood looked any less suspicious in a picture perfect town like Principia.
The market place was to their left and it was clearly serving as the celebratory grounds while the streets to their right were relatively empty. Yet, Neon could spot a group of maybe fifteen to twenty people, dressed in all black, though half hidden in the shadow of the big pipe in the center. They were standing in some kind of loose circle and it looked like there was a discussion going on.
“Captain” He urged and Bronze appeared right next to him within less than a second.
“Certainly not dressed for a funeral” The captain said, following his gaze.
Neon sneered. “I’ll go and ask them who died”
The hooded group members nodded at each other in determined agreement before they took off in pairs and trios, each heading into different directions and alleyways.
“Well, that’s not good” Bronze observed quietly and Neon agreed, eyeing the stern, marble expression on his face with great concern.
“Not good, indeed” He repeated, though, he was referring to how this development would interfere with Bronze’s plans rather than to the sight itself.
They used the provided system of ladders and steps to climb down the building. Down here, the sensory overload predominated and Neon could only marvel at the way Bronze managed to keep his head down. He did not even once try to catch a curious glance at the big picture around him whereas Neon’s stomach immediately reacted to the various smells of different food all coming together to one thick delicious scent. His head immediately bounced to the cheerful rhythm of the music.
“I hope our mission involves a snack break, because I’m really hungry now” There was no need to lower his voice, yet he kept close to his captain like a mother would try to guard a child that was too stubborn to just take her hand. As expected, there was no answer.
“We do have a mission, right?” He was more worried about that than he cared to admit. Worried that the only thing Bronze was going to accomplish was to get himself in trouble. He knew that there tended to be more behind his actions, a well thought-out plot with occasional twists. But the ending was always the same, no matter how many times they read it together.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
As if on cue - fate’s cruel and ironic reply to the question - the world held its breath for the length of an explosion, echoing back from the other side of the market place. The exhalation that followed was violent and panicked; an entire city out of breath; people crying out, huddled together. A second explosion tumbled through the earth before the last echo of the first one had even faded away.
It was hard not to be swept away by the startled mob, even harder for Neon to keep his eyes out for Bronze who was doing a frustratingly fantastic job in not standing out today.
Unlike any reasonable person, Bronze was headed directly towards the closest possible source of the previous explosion, no further explanation given. And Neon had no choice but to follow him. He cursed under his breath, one hand always ready to grab his captain by the arm and pull him back, if necessary. The other hand constantly flinched towards the two swords behind his back.
Halfway across the market place it became clear that most people were not just aimlessly fleeing from the scene but were actually herded by peace guards taking their stance in between the chaos. Unexpectedly competent, they urged and ushered the people to leave through the passages they secured in order to lock down the market place.
Bronze slowed down his pace and Neon instinctively pushed between his captain and the peace guards’ possible sights. But it was harder to remain unnoticed when you were doing the complete opposite of what everyone else around you was doing and one of the peace guards was quick to react.
“Hey!” A dozen golden helmed heads turned towards them. “This is a lockdown! Everyone is ordered to leave at once!”
“My bad. We must’ve been mistaken” Neon lifted his hands, the sign of peace merely supposed to deceive the guards while he was actually bringing his hands closer to the handles of his swords sticking out from behind his neck. He took a step back and was surprised that he did not bump into Bronze while doing so. He felt an urgent pull at the back of his coat but as he turned around, Bronze was already up and running again, headed for the next best alleyway.
“God damn it, can he catch a breath for at least one second” Neon murmured as he set to follow. He failed to see the point of all this running around. One minute ago, all he wanted was some curry from Cacuma and maybe some strong liquor from Aspera, the next minute the smell of exotic spices and herbs had been replaced by fire and smoke weighing down the stale summer air. Maybe Bronze was not following trouble. Maybe trouble was actually following him.
Speaking of which. “They’re right behind us. Don’t you think running away might come across as a tad suspicious?”
“You’d rather stop and have a chat with them?” Bronze shot back.
That drew a sly grin from Neon’s lips. The captain’s extensive knowledge of especially the narrowest alleyways and branched shortcuts left the peace guards quite behind after only a little amount of running.
At this point, even the main streets were deserted and the lack of unwelcomed bystanders allowed the two pirates to slow down eventually. They were hardly out of breath, yet, catching a small break was perhaps not the worst idea. Or so Neon thought.
Now that the panicked screams had come to an end, shut out by locked doors and windows, the sound of gunshots cut sharp through the alley, too faint to echo back and forth between the walls of the houses all around. There was a dullness to them that revealed where they originally came from: Someone was shooting up inside a nearby house.
Neon did not have to catch a glimpse of the determined expression on Bronze’s face in order to know.
“Don’t do it” He whispered nonetheless.
But Bronze was already headed towards the origin of the noise while the gunshots were still popping up like corn over a fire.
“By the Spirits” Neon could not argue or complain. The captain was right: Loaded guns and wielded swords had no business here and maybe someone should check it out while the peace guards were clearly preoccupied elsewhere. But why did it have to be pirates out of everyone?
It was almost surreal, looking back and forth between the deserted, locked up cafés: doors shut, glass fronts barricaded, some chairs tripped over, sunshades inverted. Certainly not the worst Neon had seen. But still eerie to the eyes.
He knew it was time to draw his swords the moment it was clear that Bronze had figured out where exactly the gunshots had been – and were still – coming from. He paused, at last, to cast a glance back at Neon.
“In there” He nodded towards the smallest, most unremarkable one of the cafés, bladed guns drawn, his hood dangerously close to reveal his face. Not that it mattered anymore at this point.
“Aye, aye” There was no playful salute this time. Just a smirk and a sudden rush of anticipation for a good old fight.