Chapter 5: Core Civitus

The chopping of trees had started to grow loud. Vega saw faraway tree peaks fall followed by a crash.

“Finally. Must be-be people.” She opened her map against the seat, with Kaliba holding down one corner. She looked at her journey at this point. The map was of the entire region of Suncatch, with its many tundras and steppes. But an odd thing caught her eye. It turned out that in the southern east most parts of the province had multiple names. And one was emboldened, proclaiming its importance.

“The city of Core Civitus? That sounds cool.” Raising her head, the setting sun raced through the forest. A roaring bustle of voices ran with it.

“Huh. Must be a lot of singers there.” Now passing by the numerous logging camps, she stood up in her seat. A series of enchanting and well made gravestones along the street. The clearing in the forest openned up, and the majesty of man along with it. Sitting beside the Titanica river, underneath the jumping hills, and guarded by the armies of natural growth, it was one of the remaining jewels of the Oligarchy.

Orchards, manors, and farmhouses outside the walls of the city, feeding the ever hungry populus. The city was a series of islands separated by canals, flowing still to the sea beyond. An urban environment was present, as well as a diverse one. People of all sizes, shapes, and color walked and crowded about. They drank from the many aqueducts and tea parlors, ate from the hundreds of restaurants and resorts, and worked in the same markets and offices. Vega drove into the gateway, controlled by a military police force.

“What do you bring?” A soldier clad in textile armor.

“Uh. Stuff from a merchant guy?” He was unamused, but knew that her business was necessary.

“Move along spirit. Praise be to Recor.” As she drove by, she took in the various distinct creatures that roamed here. Although the Oligarchy was domained by humans, it wasn’t limited to them exclusively. The Oligarchy is one of the few human ruled realms on this side of the continent, as well as having the policy of acceptance of other races and realms. Some Oligarchs were even encouraged to have mixed race parentage programs.

The Sanguians, Kai Ren, and the Matigas Natao are the majority human groups. The Sanguians of course the humans that staged an exodus out of the Vampire lands of the far north. The Kai Ren from the demons of Nemesis from the eastern islands. And the Matigas Natao originated from this continent.

The groups met together some four hundred years ago and formed the Oligarchy. In order to promote fraternity among them, other peoples were allowed to join so long as they pledged fealty to the government and gained citizenship if they fought for them for two decades.

Mixed races beings such as vampiric humans, offsprings of spirit saints, werefolk, and others were accepted. Afterall, the Oligarchy promoted an ‘all hands on deck’ mentality.

Species aside from humans like the Vermanoids, Kapre and their saplings, and even demons were allowed in. While they are rare in secluded places, they are more common in cities, like Core Civitus, the birthplace of the Oligarchy. ‘Happiness, free for all that bears a shield’ was engraved on boards and courts. A few parks with places to rest wagon and animals caught Vega’s eye. Just a couple blocks ahead, a spire behind some trees loomed.

“Aha! Time for me-me to get some fix.” Her presence in the city was unremarkable. She blended well with these people. And the song of the city was chaotic. Vega loved this, humming along with its motifs and countless instruments.

A singular staircase high above a nearby market with a plump orator standing. He was a musician, he sang out using a newspaper as his sheet.

“The war effort goes well! This season, we have claimed massive tracts of land, including Curatus!” Cheers ring out from the crowd. She noticed the more spontaneous roar of the rabble, which contrasted with the humble murmuring troops in the audience. The soldiers agreed with the orator.

“News from the northern front. The remaining Tankas dueled with the mighty Ani! They struck blows with him, driving him back into the nangling pit he came from!” The listeners were entranced, jubilant at the news. Soldiers held their breath, sighing and became a mute chorus.

“This Ani guy must-must be some mean celebrity.” Vega walked away, into a more secluded district. More marble and plaster, unlike the small fires in the less wealthier areas. Robed figures were the few men that passed by. They took more notice of the crude construct. Not unkind, more perplexed. Don’t spirits smell nice?

“Man. These guys must have-have never seen a ghost before.” This section of the city stood out for its signs were written in script, with other buildings using symbols and murals to advertise their business.

“It's been a while since I read a book. It’d be nice to read a page-page.” A line of scholars entered and left this library. Vega entered, seeing it in a state of service and replacement. Of Civitus’s three libraries, they had long been stuffed with old manuscripts and scrolls.

Due to the recent orders of the Oligarch ruling here, printing houses and squads of scholars bonded to those buildings. With translators and paper artists, they were ordered to produce as many leather bound books as possible. Which dropped the price of books, but swiftly raised the literacy of his subjects.

And aside from the patricians' contempt with this new policy, it had little downside. Besides, they would be reading government made works to undermine any sort of revolt. And for the richer class of client, they reassured their dominance over the masses by granting them lessons and certain gifts.

Once such a gift was the book ‘Rural Commodities', which in this place flew off the shelves and into the hands of manormen. Vega, without interference, grabbed a copy off its shelf. Sprinting through its three hundred and eighty eight pages, she took it in breathlessly. But not without blinking a couple times, of course. Its subjects included the arrangement of farm buildings, the biology of plants, and its central focus, the mystical process of distilled alcohol.

She turned back to the men purchasing the book. While most were of richer status, some were of average class. A party of thrift and stewardship took them. A separate stall for buying liquor licenses achieved high profit. She jumped to see the fine print, noticing it was granted so long as the government monitored their production and they contributed two tons of light wine to the legions each year.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Soldiers must really like alcohol.” Journeying through the categories of shelves, Vega judged the readers. Mostly men who’s youth existed only in conversation, and what remained were faces powdered with the ash of the past.

A thought came to the scarecrow along with Kaliba’s fluttering of their wings. A strange curiosity disagreed with her mood. She wondered, no, she implored herself.

“Who is Kaliber?”

“I don’t know.” Kaliba answered.

“Ya sure?”

“Yes-yes.”

“Aw. I hoped ya would. Oh well, time to look for an answer in the books.” Vega wandered through the multitude of sections within the library. She searched in history, in the complicated webways of lives before and present. Climbing the steps high, she scrolled through the assertions of scientists and artisan in vain.

No Kaliber to be found.

Taking her leave, she stopped in the philosophy room, the only room were people were allowed and encouraged to yell.

There was a theme in the Oligarchy, and it emerged in a pack of philosophers arguing. How to treat one's citizens. Some argued for strong ones, others for smart ones. A new group of them held that those two parties missed the point. This group included the Oligarch of this region, even though he was not present.

“He who is only an athlete is too crude, too vulgar, too much a savage. He who is a scholar only is too soft, too inexperienced, too effeminate. The ideal citizen is the scholar athlete, the man of thought and the man of action.”

Incredibly sexist, but that was their philosophy. Their dedication to it was visible. In corners some studied, others spoke and argued, in one was a familiar boy. Of straight brown hair. A tad too adorable, but of good respect and health.

“Oh. It's the cutie from the forest.” He was alone, and had a stack of scrolls and books reaching his chest. Of larger eyes but still similar to the Magitanese’s sharp ended lids. Broad shouldered and clean shaven, his body was strengthened by practiced exercise rather than labor. A pleasing ball nose complemented by his skin being clear. He was a maintained and handsome teen.

A charming image, Vega knew. After all, she was just an inch behind him. A disgusted sentence came out.

“Work, work, work. Busy, busy, busy. I’m not here to have fun.” She continued to analyze him, like an artist to a sculpture. His speech was firm but uncomfortably cautious. Careful to speak casually, unnatural.

“Can’t even send someone to recover my cart. Why would they send me instead of an actual driver?”

“Maybe ya need to learn how to help-help people with your hand-hands instead of your mind?”

“Well that would be…” Trailing off, he spun around to see the grinning construct right behind him.

“Hello…”

“What's good?” Vega blinked slower than the lifespan of a tree.

“I… I’m good.” The trader pranced around with his eyes, looking for someone to save him from what was clearly a demon.

“You don’t look so good. Do you need help-help?” Sliding onto the seat across from him. The merchant was stone still. He began to stroke his ponytail and bowed his head in concession.

“Sure…”

“Alright! What do you need help with?”

“Do you still have my cart?” He bit his lip.

“Yep-yep.” That was good, he thought. Maybe this creature isn’t as disturbed as he thought.

“Oh bless Recor and the spirits beyond! Where is it?”

“I parked it.”

“Where?”

“I dunno.” Vega shrugged. He slumped forward on his book. He sobbed into the book, pounding the table feebly.

“Graham’s gonna kill me.” He sobbed into the book, pounding the table feebly.

“J-just kidding! It's just a couple streets from here.” Vega patted the back of the merchant.

“You promise?” He raised his head sheepishly.

“No worries, I can walk you over there in a second.”

“Why not now?” Squinting at the odd hay lady.

“Can’t. Need surgery.”

“You know what… I’m not even gonna argue. Forget this work. I’m so ready to get to help this scarecrow thing that I thought was a demon. And now I’m so emotionally drained that I can’t even muster up a question or a proper response. Let’s go scarecrow.”

“Thanks!” Vega beamed. Filling up his backpack with the last of work, they walked to the hospital. Not a harmonious sight, but a comforting building to those that needed it. Most of the city was a blend of multiple cultural styles of architecture. Some of them mix together on corners, or entire blocks melting together. With the roof tiles of the Sanguians, the wide open windows of the Magitas Natao, and the brightly painted reds and golds of the Kai Ren, it was the boiling forge of the future. Wherever Core Civitus goes, the Oligarchy typically follows.

But the hospital was staunchly practical. It was covered in hundreds of signs written in different cants, symbols, and messages from various cultures, its main purpose was clear. To heal and aid those disadvantaged. As the pair strolled by the fence of the building, it didn’t appear that there was a plague.

Rather, a famine. Plenty of beings turned skeletal, with nurses turned waiters came in with nutrient rich juice. As the minutes passed by, the pots containing the elixir grew more and more empty. The front door was unguarded except by a bell. Vega shook it to irritable effect.

“So… what's your name?”

“Just call me Vega. Vega the-”

“Scarecrow. Got it.” He wasn’t having this. A living farm tool is what terrified him all those days ago. It was insulting.

“Your name cutie?” Vega spoke in a merely platonic way. She held no romantic desire. But this did give the merchant pause.

“Right… Luiocles is the name.” They waited and the door was opened. A voice chirped in a low crunch.

“If you need food, can’t help.”

“Do you need food?” Vega peered behind the door. A large antoid, in a long striped dress was what see saw. Keratin mandibles made its mouth and tongue. Its compound eyes were a blood vein, pumping and shifting occasionally.

“We were supposed to get our nutrients yesterday. But the neighboring county’s bandits have been screwing with our damn payloads.” Vega turned toward Luiocles in an encouraging manner. Her gaze terrified him again, and all he could make was a small protest.

“Fine! But you are going to pay me back, Scarecrow.”

“Gotcha.” She saluted her new friend and turnt back to the doctor. She pulled out the Linda card. She held it out in front of the insect.

“So… can-can I get fix-fix?” Looking at the doctor, he seemed reluctant to act.

“Okay. Not my finest moment but I’ll take you in.”

“Wait! I have to ask. Do you take ghosts as patients?” The antoid doctor glanced around at the street, hiding by the door. When he stopped scanning he whispered.

“Yes.”

“Good. So I can get treated by a doctor.” The antoid turned his head, before shaking it.

“Idiot.” Kaliba cawed.

“No. Doctor, Kaliba. He’s a doctor.” The antoid waved Vega inside and she followed. As he closed the door she began to reminisce on her journey so far.

“Man, city folk are just the best!”