"Thank you," Immanuel murmured appreciatively to the woman, his voice echoing gently off the tiled walls of the bath area. He started slowly swimming a few laps in the tranquil waters. Eventually, he floated on his back, the warmth of the water enveloping him, his body buoyant and relaxed. Yet, just as he was about to surrender to the calm, a cautious thought flickered in his mind, ‘let's not keep Val waiting’.

He emerged from the pool, reaching for a large towel on a nearby rack. Drying himself briskly, he wrapped the towel around his waist and made his way back to his room. Once there, he chose comfortable clothing: baggy grey pants and a white blouse that fastened with a single button at the neck, selecting shoes that promised ease over style.

Heading towards the lounge, he found it deserted. With a casual air, he wandered behind the bar, his eyes scanning the array of bottles lined up like soldiers. One particular bottle caught his eye, its contents emitting a sweet aroma when he opened it. Intrigued, he perused the cabinet further, selecting over ten bottles to store away in his special storage, 'you never know when a good drink might come in handy'.

He hesitated a moment then added ten more drinks. Sipping slowly, he walked over to a couch positioned perfectly for an overlook of the city. The sky was transitioning to dusk, painting the sprawling cityscape in shades of twilight.

As he gazed out, Immanuel's thoughts drifted to his own city, so different from this one.

‘What is everyone back home doing at this moment, and what would they think if they saw me now, in this alien world?’

He took a deep swig of the drink, the flavors dancing on his palate. ‘God, this is nice stuff,’

‘How is it that there are humans in this world? Humans evolved on earth. So, are there fossils here? Is something guiding the evolution of multiple worlds? Something might have brought humans here? Why?'

Val's footsteps echoed through the lounge, pulling him back to the present; she was wearing a form-fitting pair of pants and an elegant overcoat that allowed for ease of movement.

"Go back to your room and take out the blue jacket," she instructed crisply.

"Okay," Immanuel responded, realising he had stashed it in his storage. He walked to his room, retrieved it and joined Val at the elevator. They descended through the grandeur of the lobby and stepped into a waiting carriage, enclosed and discreet.

"We'll go see your friend," Val announced as the carriage started to move.

Immanuel murmured a, "Thanks."

“Stop with saying thanks, it is unbecoming.” She opened a box that was placed next to her revealing an intricate piece of weaponry. “These are Haiken claws. Give me your left hand.” She attached the claws around his under arm.

“You can still make a fist, but.” She pushed his fingers down and the claw extended. Showing five razor thin knives coming out.

"Practise ," she said, her smile hinting at hidden violence.

The Haiken claws, with segments resembling finely wrought metal, were adorned with symbols that flowed like water over their surface. They encircled Immanuel's wrist comfortably, conforming seamlessly to his movements. When he clenched his fist, the claws extended with a near-instantaneous fluidity.

Immanuel started to open and close the claws.

“So, Val. Where do humans come from?”

“I will start punching you in the face Immanuel. You cross..”

“I mean originally. Where do humans originate from?”

She halted, absorbing his words, then settled into a cross-legged position. "What an odd thing to ask," she mused. "We were always... akin to the city or the trees.”

She paused then a moment before adding, “my father, and his father before him, stretching further back than memory, have always resided within the embrace of this city.

Immanuel's puzzlement was evident, but before he could delve deeper, Val's patience wore thin, cutting off any further discussion. Immanuel sat back playing with his new claw.

---

They reached the dockmaster's house, where Immanuel alighted from the carriage following Val. With an air of ownership, she strode in where Naai greeted them with a deep bow.

"We seek the harbormaster; he has something for Immanuel," Val stated.

"Yes, one moment, please," Naai replied briskly walking to the back of the house.

Immanuel wandered to the balcony, gazing over the harbor. He fondly recalled his first visit here, a moment of tranquility amidst chaos.

‘I should ask him what was in that pipe.’ Immanuel thought with a smile.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Val's voice interrupted his reverie. "This belongs to you." She placed a hefty bag, presumably filled with coins, and a letter on the table.

"I remember arriving here, I was so scared. After the accident on the plains, Carto was the first semblance of normalcy I encountered, the second, actually."

Val remained silent, granting him a moment of reflection. The harbor buzzed with activity, basking in the last rays of sunlight. Then, hearing Val depart, Immanuel collected his coins and letter, rejoining her in the carriage.

They traveled for a while until Val alighted from the carriage, with Immanuel promptly following. She entered an awaiting open carriage, and Immanuel trailed behind. As they resumed their journey, Immanuel cast a questioning glance at Val, but she ignored it. Feeling the familiar presence of his claw beneath his blue jacket, he started to reach for it.

“Don’t,” she murmured under her breath, and he withdrew his hand.

They arrived in a part of the city characterized by expansive streets and magnificent buildings, still bustling with people. Stopping before a grand staircase, they observed other carriages and elegantly dressed individuals in vibrant colors. They ascended the stairs, where a polite bowing man welcomed them at the restaurant's open doors.

“Follow me,” he directed, leading them up to an expansive second story. Between the first and second flights of stairs hung a wall-sized mirror. For the first time, Immanuel saw his reflection clearly, not just a distorted image in murky water. He came to a standstill, transfixed. Val instantly adopted a defensive posture, scanning their surroundings. Immanuel, speechless, tentatively touched his face, then, realizing it was his clawed hand, switched to the other. He observed his week-old beard, recalling Elio teaching him to trim it with a throwing knife. His hair, long and unkempt like his beard, appeared thicker, as if heavy with grease. His skin was smooth, unlined, lending him a youthful appearance, around twenty-five years old.

“Immanuel. Now!” Val hissed, breaking his reverie. He followed her, numbly, to a spacious second-floor dining area with low-set tables. Various groups were dining, and the waiter guided them to a secluded corner. The table, surrounded by cushions and seemingly sprouting from the ground, was nestled among scattered plants. They settled down.

“What was that?” Val demanded, her tone sharp.

“I was just startled by my own reflection; I’d forgotten how I looked,” Immanuel explained.

Val, sat strategically with her back to the corner for a clear view of the area. They didn’t need to place an order, as soon a procession of waiters began arranging an array of small dishes and glasses on their table. Immanuel stopped one of them.

“Excuse me,” he said, and Val inhaled sharply in response.

“Could I have a pipe and something to fill it with?” The young woman nodded without hesitation, bowed, and left with the others.

“Is it alright if I smoke after dinner?” Immanuel inquired.

“If anyone objects, we'll just assess the strength of their conviction,” Val replied nonchalantly. “But how do you forget your own appearance?”

Immanuel was silent at that, thinking about a possible explanation.

“Memories are stored differently in the mind. A strong blow here,” he pointed to the general area of his temple, “might erase someone’s language but leave the rest intact. Or maybe you just destroy someone's ability to recognize his mother.”

Val looked at him like she was trying to assess if he was making a fool of her.

“How do I look?” Immanuel asked a moment later.

“Didn’t you just see yourself in the mirror?” Val started eating directly from the dishes with her hands.

“Yes, but how do you think I look?”

“Like a lost little bird,” she observed, then added, “Ah, I think we might have company.” As Immanuel began sampling the dishes, Val continued, “We’re going to test you before throwing you into the war. We’re not on familiar ground, and I believe that group of four over there — don't look now — might be here for us.”

Immanuel's nerves spiked. “Couldn’t you have waited until after dinner to tell me?” He began sampling various drinks, searching for alcohol. Just then, the waitress returned with a pipe, similar in design to Carto’s, along with several small leather pouches and a device that could be a lighter.

“Thank you,” said Immanuel as she bowed and walked away. He pocketed the pipe and its accessories in his jacket.

Nervous, Immanuel clenched his fist, inadvertently activating his claw. It shot out, toppling several dishes.

“Oh fuck. Sorry,” he muttered, hastily retracting the claws and attempting to clean the table. He glanced up to catch Val's flaring nostrils. Only two dishes had spilled, and one bowl was broken.

“Well, I'm facing away from them, so no real harm done,” Immanuel remarked with a grin, “You need to give people some time get used to your new toys. If…”

“Taste this,” she interrupted, reaching over with a bowl. She dipped a cake-like substance in the sauce and brought it to Immanuel’s mouth. Surprised, he opened wide, accepting the morsel. It was sweet, with a hint of cinnamon.

“Thanks,” he said, swallowing.

“We’ll make it appear you're my companion for pleasure,” Val said. “They're aware of my habits. Your main target is the woman in the grey dress. Now, feed me something.”

Hesitating for a moment Immanuel took the same dish and cake, he could hear Val’s sigh, before he brought it to her mouth.

Immanuel had that same feeling akin to watching amateurs attempt to feed an alligator, the imminent danger clear and present. Fortunately, the situation remained stable. Val, noticing a smudge of cake at the corner of her mouth, gracefully licked it away with her tongue.

“Good,” she affirmed.

“Will they attack here? Why not just overwhelm us with force? I might be missing something, but this plan seems riddled with assumptions,” Immanuel asked.

“You're not familiar with the city's intricacies,” Val began, but then paused. “Wait. They’re moving.”

Immanuel's muscles tensed in anticipation. Val watched in silence.

“Hmm. They're leaving.”

After a moment, Val motioned him to follow. “Stay close,” she instructed as they rose. Approached by a waiter midway to the staircase, Val dismissed him with a curt “Shut up,” and they continued. Immanuel, unsure of what else to do grasped her hand.

They descended the stairs and, upon exiting the restaurant, saw the last person leap into a closed carriage, speeding away. Val released his hand, and they dashed down the stairs. Hitting the street, they sprinted in the carriage's direction. Immanuel noticed Val signalling covertly to someone, though he couldn't discern to whom.

His zeal ignited, dispelling his nerves and filling him with an exhilarating rush.

'Ahh, the thrill of the hunt,' he thought, energized by the unfolding chase.