As Valen followed his new companions deeper and deeper into the sewers, the telltale signs of regular passage began to show. It became obvious that more than just the group leading him at the moment travelled through the seemingly endless system of underground corridors on a regular basis.
Perhaps the most surprising thing, however, was that, as Samuel had told him, he gradually became accustomed to the stink. Despite the occasional sound of skittering rodents, eventually the only sounds he could really hear were their own footsteps and the crackling of the torch, which he became even more grateful for as night well and truly settled above ground and the little bit of natural light that had still been streaming through the grates they had been passing was gone completely.
These new people he had met were actually fairly talkative folk, once they got used to the presence of a stranger in their midst.
“So, Valen was it? It’s obvious from the way you were acting aboveground that you’ve never been to the city before. What brought you looking for little Sammy here?” the woman with the long, dark hair asked after a while. She changed her pace to stay beside him as she spoke, and as he turned his attention to her, he realized that she couldn’t have been more than maybe five or six years his senior.
When she noticed him looking her over, the woman raised a brow suggestively and grinned, making Valen’s cheeks burn as he looked forward again, trying not to stumble over his own words as he replied.
“Ah, um, you see I… well… it’s kind of complicated. I just didn’t have anyone else to turn to but Sam and his family,” he managed, though as he spoke and thoughts of what had driven him so far from home came to mind, he quickly moved past his awkwardness towards a darker mood. Noting this, Samuel came up on Valen’s other side.
“Shove off, Nessa. You know it’s not your business,” he interjected, before Valen had a chance to say anything himself. The woman – whose name, or at least nickname, was apparently Nessa – rolled her eyes, but sighed and backed off, slipping to the back end of the group with a slight shrug of her shoulders.
“Whatever,” she said aloud.
He was glad to let his old friend speak up for him in such a strange situation. Luckily, Nessa’s prying behavior seemed to be well known, as the older man started heckling her.
“We all know you like getting involved with things that have nothing to do with you, but we wouldn’t want a repeat of the Jonah incident,” the man chuckled, as he had been at the rear of their group and so was now next to Nessa as she fell back beside him.
“Oi, Arn, no one asked for your opinion,” she snapped, sounding annoyed by the reference, though from the sparkle that Valen noticed in her eyes when he glanced back at them, the irritation was mostly playful. The bite of real annoyance came from ahead, as the woman with the shaved head looked back and snapped at them all.
“Would you all shut up? We’re passing through the Quiet,” she hissed.
The woman’s words seemed to be enough to suck the energy out of any conversation that might have been about to start, as everyone immediately grew alarmingly silent. Valen noticed the sharp nod between the shaved-head woman and the man still wearing his cloak, who strode along beside her at the front of the group.
At least he had a couple of names to put to two of the faces, even if they weren’t full names – the woman with the long, dark curly hair was Nessa, and the man with salt-and pepper hair and a cleanly shaven face was Arn. He did his best to try and engrave their names in his mind, though he knew he still might not be able to remember them. His social circle had been limited to the same four people for many years now, and those people had been his own family.
Really learning any new names at all would take a bit, he was sure.
As the silence stretched on for a while, Valen’s thoughts turned from trying to memorize names to wondering why they had to remain silent for so long. He felt a burning desire to ask his question aloud, but when he started to take a breath to ask, he immediately noted Samuel turn his head sharply in his direction, as if he knew what he was about to do.
He shook his head once, but the look in his eyes when he did it was enough. Valen held his question, not wanting to anger any of these people when he had only just met them. He would have time for questions soon enough, anyways, if they were really leading him somewhere they considered to be safe.
Finally they appeared to reach the end of the ‘Quiet,’ whatever it was, as the man with the deeply gruff voice spoke up.
“Alright, not much further now,” he said. Valen realized quickly, of course, that he only said this for the newcomer’s benefit, which he was grateful for. The man was obviously the most mysterious of the group so far, seeing as he still wished to keep his identity concealed from Valen. That only made him more curious as to who he was, though it wasn’t really in his nature to find out more if someone did not wish to share something.
“See the markings on the passage walls there, Val?” Samuel cut in, gesturing to a few white lines painted onto the wall of the sewer that he would not have noticed unless they had been pointed out to him.
“I see them,” he replied, when he realized Sam was waiting for a verbal response.
“That’s how we tell when we’re at the edge of the Quiet. See how the lines curve in the direction we just came from at the ends, just a bit? That’s to show the Quiet is behind us, now, or ahead for anyone coming the opposite direction,” the other boy explained. Valen nodded, though his questions had not all been answered yet.
“And what is the Quiet? Why is it a 'Quiet,' if we’re underground where no one should be able to hear us?” Valen responded. Samuel smirked, as if the question amused him.
“It’s enough that you know not to make noise when passing through it. If at some point you really need to know why, I’ll tell you,” he told Valen. Though he did not necessarily love the way the other boy spoke about it, he also knew he really was not in any position to try and force the information out of his old friend even if that was something he felt like he could do.
So instead of pressing the topic, he turned to something he might be more inclined to talk about – this place called the Nest that they were taking him to.
“So, uh, what exactly is this place we’re going to?” he questioned, glancing back at Nessa and Arn, then turning his gaze to Samuel who still kept pace next to him, before finally looking up at the cloaked man and the woman with the shaved head, waiting for one of them to speak up.
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As he should have expected, it was ultimately Sam who answered him.
“Well, it will probably be easier to understand once you see it, but let’s just say it’s a… haven… for the folks our friends in the Empire have abandoned or forgotten,” the other boy explained. Valen was shocked by the venom that curdled his words as he spoke them; no one spoke with such open hostility against the Empire. No one.
From the warning looks being shot in Samuel’s direction by the others, he knew they were aware of that as well, though they seemed to be more concerned with making sure Samuel was speaking to someone they could trust, rather than the fact that he seemed to hate the people who ruled over almost all of Parovia. It was a dangerous sentiment to carry, but Valen realized then that he could understand it. Though he had been distracted from his own rage since fleeing the Divide, seeing as he had been so preoccupied with keeping himself, his sister and the wyverns alive and out of Imperial hands, now that he thought to give it attention he could feel it burning inside of him.
He did not know what he could do with that anger. What he did know, however, was that he could not allow it to distract him right now, not when he was in the middle of such a strange and possibly dangerous situation. So, with no other choice, he forced it back into the little box he had managed to close it away in inside his mind and focused back on his friend, who seemed to be aware now of the way he had spoken and was alternating between frustration and nervous glances in Valen’s direction.
“It’s okay, Sam. I…” the Galar boy began, finally about to explain what had brought him here, but then he was interrupted from a voice up ahead.
“Who rules the skies?” someone called, and immediately everyone halted, though the only one who did so with alarm was Valen.
The man who was still cloaked finally pulled back his hood, and Valen almost gasped at the horrible mass of scars that ran jagged and pink across the back and top of his bald head. Though he could not see his face just yet, turned towards the darkness ahead of them in the direction of the speaker as he was, he finally began to gather what it was he might be about to walk into. Yet he could not believe the thought as it wormed its way into his head, because he was sure no one would ever dare.
“None but the Sun and the Moon,” the heavily scarred man called back.
Valen looked around now, his thought growing stronger as each of them began to smile. Even the world-weariness seemed to fade from Sam’s face for just a moment. Then, out of nowhere, two doors made to look exactly like the wall of the sewer cracked and swung slowly open, letting the light of some sort of large hall out into the darkness.
Temporarily blinded, he heard the man who had questioned them speak once again.
“Welcome home, Children of the Sky,” the man intoned. Then Valen was pulled inside as his eyes finally adjusted to the sudden light, before widening in amazement as he saw what awaited him.
It was like an entire city, packed into hidden hall beneath Lakevale. At the center of the room there was a massive circle of descending stone steps, at the bottom of which was a large open area maybe twenty yards across and fifteen from front to back, with a stage built at its center. Every other step had a ring of stalls circling it, some with vendors peddling their wares, while others were empty, awaiting whoever might be by later on to make use of them, and every quarter length around the steps was a cleared path down towards the stage at the bottom.
It seemed to be an old arena, built beneath the city, and recycled for the use of the people who now called it home.
Around the former arena, there was a little space for people to walk around and be about their business, and then arranged in the remainder of the space – there was still at least another fifty yards or so from that space to the walls of the hall – were dozens and dozens of wooden buildings built to utilize the stone of the underground space as their ceiling, all of them multi-storied.
Valen saw a couple of different signs that indicated what appeared to be a tavern for the exclusive use of the people who called this place their home, a miniature craftsmen’s square missing only a blacksmith, which made sense considering the horrible smoke issues they would have had to deal with otherwise, and even what appeared to be a squat, one story barracks that took up the space of four of the other buildings.
The barracks, the only one story building in the entire underground hall, was also the place they were apparently headed for. The scarred man, who had pulled his hood back up while Valen’s attention was focused on the impossible miniature city that he had been brought to, continued along the cobblestone path that led across to the path around the arena, which in turn circled around to the barracks directly across from the entrance they had come through.
“Welcome to the Nest,” Nessa said, smirking as she said it, as if she had been waiting for this exact reaction from him.
“I don’t… I can’t…” Valen managed, rather lamely, eliciting a full chuckle from Nessa before she moved past him to come up alongside the two leading. Arn came up on the other side of Samuel, apparently just as eager to see the newcomer’s reaction to their hidden city. Valen looked over at the two of them, simply shaking his head in disbelief.
What could he possibly say?
Once again, however, he was saved as the woman with the shaved head suddenly came to a halt, turning back to look at Arn.
“Arnold, with me. We’re to join the next group out,” she said, her voice still cold and unwelcoming as she glanced over at Valen. He could not blame her, though. He was intruding in their space now, not the other way around, even if it was by invitation. She probably was not used to someone being able to just stroll on in here so easily. That thought made Valen wonder what the regular protocol might have been before bringing him in, if Samuel had not been able to vouch for him and they were not all so obviously eager to get off the streets.
“What’s the occasion, Liza?” Arn – Arnold, he supposed, realizing that Arn was probably just another nickname – asked, eliciting a scowl from the woman as she shot another glance at Valen.
“Keep those lips of your shut tighter around strangers,” Liza barked, apparently not at all happy with him knowing her name. The whole group had paused now, and he could tell from the scarred man’s posture, even with his face still covered by the cloak, that he was not happy with even this slight delay.
“What? We just got back in. Boss-man wouldn’t be sending the two of us back up there without good reason,” Arn replied defensively, not liking the tone with which the woman had spoken to him, though not enough to actively defy her it seemed. The chain of command was becoming more and more obvious among the group now. Or at least, among the group that had been escorting him. The man leading them was in charge, and Liza seemed to be his second-in-command.
"If you know that there would be a good reason, then stop asking questions and let’s go,” she shot back, and this time, though he grumbled as he went, Arnold obeyed, falling in behind Liza as she headed back the way they had just come.
Of course, they really had his interest now, and he might have voiced his new questions if he wasn’t already so exhausted from a day spent searching for Samuel and his family, followed by a moment of fear for his life and a long jaunt through the sewers. Sleep could not come soon enough. Still, he managed one question as he and Samuel picked up their speedy walk once again, following close behind Nessa and their leader.
“What was that all about?” he inquired, speaking loud enough for all three of those still with him to hear. Sam sighed and shrugged, out of the loop like Valen was, while Nessa simply laughed again and didn’t look back. There was no response at all from their cloaked boss.
Before he could try and press the questioning any further, however, they reached the large entrance to the barracks and stepped inside. Taking in that huge first room, his jaw almost dropped. It was as though the entire front half of the building had been turned into one huge training hall and war room, with racks of weaponry lined up all along the walls on either side. A large table, long and wide enough to seat twenty or more people, was set on a slightly raised platform so that anyone in the room could see when anyone in command had something to say.
Right now, given the hour, the hall was mostly deserted, though not entirely. A handful of people were scattered about the room, a few trading blows with wooden practice swords or daggers, while a couple more practiced with bow and arrow over in the corner. These men and women paused for a moment when Valen’s party entered but resumed their activity fairly quickly.
That was fine, anyways, because his attention was focused solely on the two standing at the far end of the room, by the table.
Matthew and Simon Romari.