I had visited quite a few of the station’s districts by this point, but the moment I walked into the district informally known as Canvas Town, I immediately felt more at home. While the underlying structures of the buildings were of a fundamentally Staiven design, their exteriors had been highly customized to better match the aesthetic sensibilities of my homeworld.
It was a bit of a hodgepodge of architectural design, with the sweeping angles of Sunlit Hall architecture standing next to the circular mandalas of Crucible’s Edge. I could even see hints of utilitarian designs from Bounty in buildings here and there.
I was on one of the lower layers of the stack, a business street filled with lively motion, and the ceiling was hung with white steel lanterns that seemed at first glance to be burning with real fire. A closer look revealed that the flames were simply projections.
The effect was profound, making it feel like I was walking the streets of a city on Canvas at night, perhaps even during a festival. The streets were lined in carts selling anything from food to general supplies, and everywhere I looked I saw swathes of sei, farsei, and even the occasional Tovus. The homogeneity of the blond headed masses were only broken up occasionally by the rare Jobu or Staiven.
I breathed in, sampling the scent of the spiced meat and wine that floated upon the air. Canvas Town was just as it had been described to me: a true bastion of Canvas’ culture within the alien reaches of Tseludia Station.
As I made my way through the crowd, a younger man bumped into me. He was pushed back, clearly in a lower realm than I was. A quick spiritual glance at him revealed he was still in the process of awakening his dantian. I glared at him and he bowed, fearful.
“Apologies, senior,” he said in a respectful tone. I gave him a nod and continued on my way. The interaction had left me in a good mood. Only my own people truly knew what it meant to have a proper interaction. I moved to scratch an itch on my nose, but was interrupted by a voice in my ear.
“Don’t touch your face. The hologram doesn’t perfectly match your bone structure, and someone might see your hand move through your ‘skin’.”
Rachel’s voice served as an excellent damper for my mood. I rested my thumb in my belt instead.
I was wearing a standard martial arts uniform, the sort that was commonly worn by unaffiliated martial artists and those who wished to hide their affiliation. It was black, with some decoration done in gold and green stylized like a pair of Bountian junglefiends leaping to fight one another. Rachel had made Hestky order it for me so I could blend in better.
“Could you not simply have made the illusion line up with my features?” I asked. Rachel sighed in exasperation, making me even more annoyed.
“If I had done that it wouldn’t have hidden your facial structure, Cyrus. Which was the entire point of the disguise.”
Her logic made sense, though I had some difficulty grasping the limitations of her illusions at times. Could she not have changed where it seemed like my hands were touching? It wasn’t important, I supposed. I could just avoid touching my face while in disguise.
Another young man was walking past me, and bumped into me as if he had expected me to move out of his way.I delivered a sharp glare to him as well, wishing to see him apologize for the slight. I would have accepted him just running off as well, as I did have business to take care of.
As I did so, I realized that he was wearing the white and green robes of the Hadal Clan. He was a sei, and had long blond hair tied up atop his head in a traditional style. An outraged look spread across his face as if he couldn’t believe I had dared to block his way.
“Do you know who I am?” he shouted, almost spluttering the words out.
I had met plenty of young men like him before. There was something about the combination of martial arts training and being raised in a powerful family that created men like this. I might have ventured down such a path had my master not raised me properly.
“Should I?” I asked.
While he was physically an adult, my mind couldn’t help but see him as a boy due to the way he was acting. Mouthing off to a senior of a higher realm while relying solely on one’s backing is quite simply a foolish thing to do. I considered teaching him a lesson.
“I’m Yulio Hadal, eldest son of the Hadal Clan’s Chief Apothecary.”
The boy spoke the words out boastfully, as if he expected me to prostrate before him after learning his identity. He would have to be disappointed I could accept minor effacement, but that would be going too far. He seemed to be a core member of the clan, not that I particularly cared. I mostly just wanted the dispute to be over so I could go about my business. That father of his clearly must have spent too much time synthesizing pills and too little instructing his progeny.
“I apologize for the slight, young master.”
I had tried to make my voice sound polite, but it was difficult for me. It was easier than it would have been due to the fact that I was in disguise. Had I been acting as my true self, I might not have deigned to respond to the man at all. A hint of my true feelings leaked into my tone, driving him deeper into rage.
Had he been rejected by his lover recently, or something? His reactions seemed a bit disproportionate to my words. I sighed, putting just a touch of miasma into my meridians and dashing off through the crowd. I had no energy left with which to deal with his type. Chances are he would insist I do something ridiculous like kowtow or give him money. Decidedly a waste of my time.
Behind me, the arrogant martial artist shouted something that was lost to the bustle of the crowd. I paid no attention to it.
“Incredible. I can’t believe arrogant young masters like that really exist,” said Rachel, breaking my train of thought. “It felt like I was watching a movie. I was under the impression that the stories were exaggerated but…”
“You see that type on occasion,” I said. “The best way to handle it is either to avoid them or turn it into a fight.”
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“I appreciate you choosing the first option,” she said dryly.
“Killing him would delay me. Better to wait and avoid becoming involved with the Hadal Clan before we’re prepared.”
“Does that mean you would have killed him if he wasn’t a member of the Hadal Clan?”
The tone of her voice made it seem as if she were honestly curious. I chuckled, slowing down to merge back into the crowd as best I could.
“In a place like this, if he weren’t part of the clan, he wouldn’t have dared to antagonize someone of a higher realm.”
“That… makes sense,” she said.
The crowd was starting to clear out as I moved to a slightly seedier part of the district, crossing one of the bridges to a stack whose buildings acquired somewhat less foot traffic. I turned as I finally arrived at my destination, a small martial arts academy whose window was boarded up with a sheet of cheap metal.
I lifted my left wrist to inspect a digital wristwatch. It was made of cheap steel, with a thin red linen band that blended in somewhat with my dark skin. The time read two minutes. I paused. That couldn’t be right.
“Rachel, what happened to the timer?”
She paused for a moment as if to consider, liking checking whatever sources of information she was using to track them.
“They’ve taken an unusual route. Their schedule today is different from the usual, they seem to be heading straight for you. I think Hidoro might have called them to collect.” I frowned.
“I see.”
The watch was another item we had acquired in the past few days. Precise timekeeping was not a habit my people traditionally ascribed to, though some on the station had been forced into it by working for alien corporations. This timepiece was being controlled from afar by Rachel, using some arcane form of advanced technology. I looked down at the watch’s face again. Still two minutes. I frowned.
“Rachel, is this machine broken?” I asked.
She sighed, and I detected a hint of consternation in the sound.
“They stopped to ogle a food cart owner. I paused the timer until they begin moving again. You should go in, there’s not much time left.”
The lack of discipline our marks were displaying annoyed me. They might be gangsters, but in Crucible’s Edge, even the lowliest of thugs had discipline strongly instilled into them by their superiors. It seemed that even though an orthodox clan was part of the underworld here, they knew nothing of how best to handle such an organization. I would have thought they would model themselves after their traditional foe, but such was clearly not the case. In any case, the lacking discipline of the gangsters represented an opportunity for us. One I intended to exploit.
“I might not have enough time for the plan. Should I wait outside?”
There was a pause as she considered. I had decided to leave the operational planning to her. My expertise lay more in the martial and tactical avenues, after all. After a few moments, Rachel decided.
“No, go inside. They might be wary if they see you loitering outside. You should at least have time to make the initial offer.”
I nodded, assenting. For a moment it felt odd to make a physical expression such as that when I appeared to be standing alone in the street, but I knew Rachel was able to see me through some arcane method. To me, the workings of advanced technology were more esoteric than even the spirit realm. I turned back to the academy, inspecting it in greater detail.
The Charging Puma Academy of Martial Arts was in the kindest of terms, a bit of a dump. The window was boarded as it had been broken, and the inscribed metal signboard was covered in scratches and signs of wear. A crack in the ceiling next to the door slowly dripped a black liquid onto the ground.
I tapped the door to open it, and found the inside was only slightly better. While the room was clearly well-kept and clean, the training tools consisted solely of a fabric mat, a pile of wraps, and a bucket of poor quality training swords that were clearly printed by a machine. As I entered, one of the students, a sei girl who appeared to still be in her teenage years paused in her training, the blade in her hand dropping in shock at my sudden arrival.
“Cinto, somebody’s here!” she called.
I stared in confusion at the dismal conditions. People would actually pay to train here? If they were making so little money that they were forced to set up shop in a building like this one, I couldn’t imagine the martial arts of the academy were anything but the lowest grade. Rachel had told me the place would be in dire straits, but this was far worse than I had anticipated.
At the girl’s call, an farsei woman turned the corner of a doorway to face me. She had a harsh face, all rigid lines and steep angles. It was easy to determine that she was someone going through a lot of stress. Good.
She was about my own age physically, though I knew it would be difficult to guess her age in terms of years based solely upon that. A martial artist’s aging slowed according to their realm, after all.
A tendril of my soul sense inspected her. She was in the early stages of the core formation realm. A bead of sweat was dripping down her forehead as she regarded me, and a puzzled expression covered her face.
“You’re not one of Hidoro’s lackeys,” she stated.
I suddenly realized that she and the younger girl were both wearing matching gray uniforms bearing stylized designs of a crouching puma. I would have expected it to be charging as the name of the academy suggested, but odds were they had simply bought uniforms that were the closest fit rather than have them made to order. Such was common practice among the poorer sects and academies.
“That I am not,” I responded. “My name is Cyrus Yu, and I am here with an offer for this academy. May I speak to the grandmaster?”
The woman shifted in an uncertain manner before bowing.
“I am Cinto, the second generation grandmaster of this martial academy. May I know what you wish to discuss?”
This was a surprise, but not so much of one that I had trouble adapting. She looked too young to be running her own academy. Generally, anyone talented or well-trained enough to reach the core formation realm while still appearing young would have better things to be doing with their time than teaching mortals and children. I also noticed that she had introduced herself without a surname. In the modern era, even orphans were granted one. I put off the lines of thought for later consideration. I needed to make the offer before the gangsters arrived.
“I’ve heard of the difficulties your academy is currently facing, and wanted to offer to solve them for you.”
I gave her my best approximation of a pleasant smile. She narrowed her eyes at me, and I checked my watch again. Forty-five seconds. Damn.
“My organization would like to extend you the possibility of protection from rabble such as Hidoro’s goons,” I continued.
Cinto’s face scrunched up as she glared at me.
“We have no interest in your racket. Please leave unless you wish to sign up for one of our self defense courses.”
I considered giving an actual response, but decided it was better to wait for another… I checked the watch again. Ten seconds. I turned back to Cinto.
“Let’s table this discussion for a moment.”
Behind me, I heard the sound of the entry door sliding open. I failed to suppress my grin. It seemed that plan B it was.
Miasma: [The manifestation of ashatic compounds within Telles, miasma is a vital component in cutting edge technology for the most advanced of mortal races. In addition, it is the core component that allows for the functioning of the progression systems that some mortal races have. Sufficient quantities of the right variant of miasma can be used as a catalyst for ascension. There are six expressions miasma takes. Flickering, Formless, Genesis, Sanguine, Extant, Manifest. Each of the variants has different properties, in color, scent, density, and rate of dissolution back into the Brink.]