Secrat let out a sigh of relief. The exchange looked fast and easy, with no useless banter or nonsense. Brutus seemed happy to see it too. And then, like the scary stories meant to keep kids out from the Unprotected Wilderness, Secrat felt a hand creep on the back of his shoulder.
The Thief saw Brutus' eyes turn to horror at whatever was behind him, and a moment later, he heard: “What is your business here at Italina, the finest among Maharris, known profoundly for having the finest eating establishments, and definitely not to forget, the impeccable Sanchi Tower which overlooks much of the Amisoic Sea and even sees all the way out to Olzaric?”
Behind him, the Italinian Guard most likely twirled his mustache, and most certainly had the same loud and annoying voice as earlier.
Secrat cringed, and heard Brutus slur the word, “Goddammit” beneath his breath. As expected, the Guard looked at them with the same holier than thou stance as they'd seen earlier.
“My friend and I are in-search of passage beyond the walls of Italina to attend the Aer Festival.” Secrat said, before adding: “Uh, the majestic Sanchi Tower and, uh, food.”
The Guard's face had displeasure, unsatisfied with Secrat's answer.
Brutus added, “And we won't touch the tower!”
“Heavens not! None of your grubby hands would ever be welcome to feel the warm embrace of Italina's finest monument.” The Guard's voice raised with disgust to match the tonally imbalanced slurs and hollers of Ess.
“And that's what I am saying, being in this digestive town's more than enough.” Brutus commanded.
“Digestive?” The Guard couldn't stomach the comment. “In what world do you certify that a compliment?”
“Hell, if I know with words like 'majestic,' 'immaculate,' and 'soirée'. I figured digestive might mean something to you.”
The Guard glared at him, but relented: “Ah, yes, you must be referring to our fine eating establishments, such as Ollie's Abil, though, none of this will be welcome to you. This is not a soirée for common folk, and Italina's finest are far too fine to dine with the likes of you. Only those with a reservation will be allotted entry into such restaurants.”
“Fair enough,” Secrat interjected.
The Guard sighed, “Peasants,” he mumbled, but loud enough for it to clearly be heard. He waved his arm back in fourth, begrudgingly instructing them to come forward.
Secrat and Brutus Ess obliged, standing beside two women another guard had advised to do the same.
Chapter Twelve
The Aer Festival's aesthetic enlightened Secrat Copé on his own in-the-dark obliviousness. It looked like no festival he'd ever been to, and that made him realized he'd never been to a festival prior to the day's event.
The crowd was sickeningly robust. Even the time in the very populated Whispy Deserts was not proper inspiration. Th the left of him, a few feet, was a person, same as to his right. And, if, for any reason, he decided to halt his movements, he'd be run over. Behind him, the force of impatient men and women was a constant. But in-front of him, his bear-shaped acquaintance fought through the civilians. And was winning.
The visuals were scarce and restricted. In-front of the people was more people, and in-front of them was likely more of the same. As Secrat felt himself shoved into Brutus for the third or fourth time, he wondered how anyone in their right mind would subject themselves to this.
The crowd offered no wiggle room, and for that, Secrat couldn't decide if pickpocketing would be easier or more difficult, or something in-between. It was all about the big steals now though. Whatever that meant. Perhaps Secrat was expected to rob the richest of nobleman? But, more likely, Father Toucan had something more in mind.
Worse than all of that though, than the crowdedness and obscured vision, was the sound. Overlapping whispers in unison, an ever-constant, but not one of them could be clearly understood or distinguished by Copé.
Luckily, the deeper and deeper into Italina they became, the more the crowd began to thin, like water from opened floodgates beginning to settle. It remained hectic, but in time, Secrat at least found himself able to look down at his feet without being thrown into Brutus.
Where Acera had a badly worn cobblestone pathway, the floor beneath Italina was well-maintained marble, tiled in squares. Squares made unique through various different shades of gray, each of them with a black border around them. An ambitious décor, all things considered. How it wasn't completely scoffed up to hell was an answer alluding Secrat.
The restaurants were the first distinguishable attraction, albeit, very occupied. Ollie's Abil was the name of the restaurant the Guard mentioned, and with white columns holding it up and glass-walls peering into the candle-lit establishment, it looked like a restaurant held to a high standard. A delicacy. And, as such, all the Italina civilians with reservations boarded themselves inside, safe from the common-folk. It didn't seem hectic inside, through the glass-walls, they all appeared to calmly enjoy their meals.
Copé saw a second restaurant appearing more frequented by visitors from the Aer Festival, but cornered the restaurant before he could place a sign with the name. Brutus directed him into an alleyway between two adjacent buildings where it was less populated. A gap of about eight feet. Secrat rested his back against one of the buildings, his hands flat against the walls.
"Daaaaaaaamn, boy!" Brutus Ess exclaimed, looking out at the mob beyond the alleyway. And Brutus was accurate, in-fact, Secrat noticed his body was shaking because the torment of it all. Bringing in a breath through his nose and letting it out from his mouth, his initial shock began to fade and welcomed some rational cognitive coherence, "Where do, ...," he started, almost coherently, "Where do we start?"
Brutus shrugged, looking out at the crowd and shaking his head by the bulk of it. "Maybe we can rob a local supermarket of all its apples or something," jested Brutus with a smirk.
Secrat let out a polite chuckle, hardly humored by the comment. His worrisome angst mustn't have fully dissipated and all The Thief wanted was for Brutus to lead. But Brutus had other intentions.
Copé walked to the edge of the alleyway and looked into the crowd. But for only seconds, as the sounds behind him kept The Thief from venturing further. At first, anticipating Brutus' mischief, Secrat found a line of little markets on the sides of the alleyway Copé hadn't even noticed prior. Distinguished by their various different sales items, this particular strip of bazaars seemed devoted mostly to carpet selling. If I wanted to rob pompous jackasses, Secrat thought to himself.
He and Brutus ventured fourth. "Even the alleys are shops," Brutus commented.
"But nothing looks like what Toucan Veras had in-mind," Secrat whispered back.
"Never know though, and we can let the crowd bleed out in the mean-time," Brutus said, then stopped.
A smaller fellow with a black top hat bowed in-front of them. His head lifted up and a huge smile was spread. A smile of ungodly stretch, with the smile, all his teeth were visible and also the top of his gums. "Well, well, well," He said fast, standing straight, "Hello, wanderers!" The man's ensemble was a black suit, riddled by dust and dirt, old, but like it was once very expensive. His smile emptied and his voice descended into monotone, "Oh, I thought you were women, never mind." The Man in the Top Hat straightened his tie calmly, brushed himself off, and walked away.
Secrat heard a chuckle from Brutus as they watched The Man leaned back against the wall. Beside him was a large coffin-shaped box, standing up, open. The box was black, but the inside was a dark-red leather. A story to that box Copé hadn't the interest to hear.
The market with the smallest crowd is where Copé and Ess looked first. A wooden stand with small rug squares strewn about the top as samples. Carpets rolled and stood up behind the merchant. One rug in-particular stood behind him, rolled out and fixed to where it rested against the wall. The grand attraction, it'd seem.
"Oh, definitely," the merchant answered, a light-skinned, scrappy-looking fellow with long, brown, unkempt hair. "A
ll of the items here are screamingly authentic. Absolutely," his voice, laid back and sleepy.
"It looks lovely, I must say," the older woman in-front of Secrat commented.
They haggled, and the merchant's willingness to reduce the costs of his item in-half stood out to The Thief. His items might have been authentic, but they were likely useless as well. As the older woman left him, Secrat walked on, Brutus had evidently pursued other pastures. "What's the significance of the rug behind you?"
"I'll tell you, but brace yourselves, it's a story, I'll tell you," The Merchant started.
"Please do."
"This is the very same rug that," he stopped again for a second, "When I was a kid, I'd walk around at night in Italina. And one night, I saw a falling star," The Merchant's eyes grew larger, "I'm tell you it was this rug, mate!" he said in a shouting whisper.
Secrat walked away.
His eyes looked the room for Brutus, who looked to be having the same successes. They walked back to one another, "Nothing?" Copé asked.
"I offer discounts!" The Merchant yelled behind him, but Copé ignored it, looking at Brutus.
"A man tried to sell me narcotics," Brutus answered grimly.
"Did you nick them?" Copé asked.
"He said they'd make me smaller."
"Oh."
"And yes." Brutus said, showing Secrat the vial of green liquid upon shoving it down the pouch in his leggings.
Copé shook his head, "Place is filled with crazies," he said, walking back over to the outside of the alleyway. Beforehand though, he once more saw The Man in the Top Hat. "Step inside!" He announced, flailing his hands for emphasis, however, as he did, Secrat caught intrigue at the back of his hand. A hangman drawing scarred his hand. A member of The Hallows.
The lady stepped inside as suggested, a playful smile on her face. The Man in the Top Hat shut the coffin-door and locked it closed. "And wallah!" The Man yelled, knocking on the front of the box.
Copé smirked, walking over to The Man as Brutus followed. The Man took sight of them and answered dryly, "She's in the future now. Out of my hands."
"Funny," Secrat replied, a small chuckle, if only at the stupidity of the woman. The Man laughed back to him. "Now open it." Copé said.
The Man with the Top Hat looked at him with disgust, that is, until he noticed The Thief held a knife in his hand, "Now," Copé added.
The Hallows were a prostitution ring in The Unprotected Wilderness out toward Urgway and Jalint, an area often frequented by Secrat. Their sex slaves were kidnapped all throughout the five major cities. Ones plucked for each customer's desires, whether they wanted to bag someone from Italina or from Jalint, they could nail either for a small price. The women were treated god awfully, and the men they kidnapped, since they were in less demand, were often killed once they served their purpose. The Woman in the coffin was almost a victim, somehow, someway.
The Man with the Top Hat obliged, though, with a frustrated look on his face, opening the box once more and letting the woman walk out of it. She walked out with a smile, looking around, "Doesn't look different," she said, laughing, clearly thinking she was 'in' on the joke.
"Very sorry, the Time Travel Box isn't working correctly," Top Hat said, handing the woman back her coin.
Copé nodded at her and walked away. Behind him, Brutus patted Copé on the back as they met the end of the alleyway. "Big softy," Ess said, "She was a good-get for him. Could've stopped by and said hello to her on your next visit."
Beyond the crowd, on the other-side of the streets, Copé noticed an antique shop in the distance, dubbed "Marlou" on a sign above the entrance. The letters were scribed with 'stylish' pzazz; it was only by luck Copé found them legible. "Over there," Secrat said to Brutus, nodding his head forward, "Looks like the type of shop with something superfluously extravagant inside."
"Majestically digestive," Brutus mumbled, then added: "Do you think maybe we can go somewhere we don't have to travel through a sea of hostile bastards?"
"It looks like things are simmering down now," Secrat lied. An overhead view of Italina would've looked like an anthill with the residents all evacuating, but he saw no alternatives. "If we sneak in there, we might be able to snag something without anyone noticing."
Brutus Ess walked forward into the crowd. An ongoing person ran into him, but Ess seemed unmoved by it; however, the man fell down onto the marble on impact. Oh, the benefits of being large.
Secrat took the flask out from his leggings and swallowed its remainder of alcohol, which wasn't much. He followed Brutus as they twisted and turned in their attempt at navigating through the crowd. A step down off the marble walkways, the roads began; pure white dirt.
The carriages led by horses could only inch forward. That's all the crowd would allow them; a little bit at a time. Most had crates and boxes, and shops set-up in the back. Peculiar ones. Ones Secrat had never laid eyes on beforehand. Ones with second floors, for lack of a better way to describe them. Regular style carriages with doors on the side as usual, but with stairs that circled around in a spiral to the roof of the carriage for more seating and cargo space.
Copé found himself fascinated by it. All the different anomalies contrived in Italina he had never seen, growing up outside all the major cities.
Secrat and Brutus did their best to shove forward, and made many strides, halfway across the crowd before it noticeably started to disperse or relocate.
Around them, they searched for an explanation for said happening and found it: several masked men on a carriage began to speak. Their voices were loud, but they didn't yell. "Ladies and gentleman, I do hope all of you are enjoying yourselves with your festival festival festivities and many whatnots." The speaker's mask was dark-green and without eye holds, while his attire was nondescript, everyday pedestrian clothing. "All of you here, so many of you, it's ... intimidating, almost. But I knew this was the only place I could be heard." The man's voice sounded shaky and innocent; like a small boy unsure of himself.
Copé and Brutus both found themselves taken by it. "Something very bad is happening, unbeknownst to all of you!" His voice cracked and confirmed to Secrat they were hearing a young child. The boy hesitated for a second; unsure of himself. "Murderers in the wilderness!" He exclaimed, clearly expecting to induce shock. But he shocked no one. The Carvers were all too known in Maharris. Ignored, or turned a blind eye to, but known. "Members of my village were raped and murdered. Tents where a doctor would slice off a finger, if only to see what would happen. They killed my father, my mother. The Doctor, Dr. Rindan, tortured my brother!"
The boy's voice soon went silent; though, his lips continued to move when, another of the masked men, this one with a white mask, put his hand on the boy's shoulder. The boy brushed him off.
The white masked man's presence emphasized the smaller stature of the boy standing by him. “You'll have to excuse him,” the White Mask said. “We call ourselves Magnets and we are storytellers. False stories and all fiction, the best kinds of stories.”
Green Mask was pulled back by the other men in the carriage, for which he complied and did not offer up a fight.
“Something else we are is magicians, and today, we'd like to show you what the Magnets can do.”
The White Mask awaited cheers but received none; Secrat and Brutus lost interest and made way to Marlou.
“The crazies ALL attend the Aer Festival,” Brutus Ess said, stifling a laugh, and leading the way to the small antique shop.
The entrance-door was wedged open using a plank of wood, and many civilians frolicked about its confines.
“You don't believe what that one was saying?” Secrat inquired.
“What makes him crazy is thinking anyone in Italina gives a damn!” Brutus hollered, unable to suppress his laughter this time around.
Many wandering eyes amongst the store found themselves on Ess. Meanwhile, Secrat tried to pretend they were strangers.
The store's contents were tacky in the same
way as “not Azlak Temps” abode in Acera.
A statue depicting Livius Reid stood front-and-center as a main focal of the store, the 'big sell'. Reid wore slick silver armor, not unlike the knight they had seen upon entering Italina. Reid, however, had noticeable differences. His gauntlets and greaves, a dark-green, and his silver helm had a dark-green comb. The eyes were a very noticeable characteristic, bright orange diamonds that swirled and whirled like a flame. The statues' body was depicted as muscular and with broad shoulders.
The statue's creator took many artistic liberties when it came to depicting the physique of Italina's Aeonian.
Secrat eyeballed it intently until he heard the sound of a man's voice from behind him.
“It's a real beauty, isn't it? The guy who sold it to me said it's one of a set.” A woman said from behind him.
Secrat turned and made contact, young in age, the woman wore a long dress with woven intricacies. The design told The Thief she came from wealth. As compliment, she also wore large earrings with gaps in the middle and a magenta-colored scarf, same as her dress.
“It's definitely something,” Secrat said. “And you bought it?”
A smile came next. The woman had straight teeth and when she smiled, she could lit up the room. Her hair reminded Secrat of Christique, but it might have been his imagination that did it and not actual similarities.
The woman shook her head 'yes,' and continued: “The guy says those bright orange diamonds are very rare. Said the diamonds were found from a cave in the Hickly Swamps. You know how difficult it must have been to get them!?”
“Can't imagine,” Secrat replied. The woman made him uncomfortable for some reason, though, he didn't know why.
She continued to speak, but his mind found itself fluttering off and away, focused more on her person than all else. A necklace was dangled down her neck and over her bosom.
Secrat reached down in his pocket for his flask. A necklace with an emblem depicting a dragon.
The Red Flux and the Wunderkind Thief Page 15
