by Eric Ugland
“Close your mouth,” the girl said. “You need to look like this isn’t the first time you’ve seen this place.”
“Locals don’t take kindly to, uh—” I started.
“Locals don’t particularly take kindly. At all. Certainly not to people who suddenly appear in their world. And, trust me, you don’t want anyone to know you’re not a native.”
“Why? They’ll kill me?”
“Or something. There’s definitely a dude in the royal prisons who got caught being a freaky asshole, and he was fine being put to death until the powers that be found out about the asshole’s power, and now they keep him alive in constant agony. Nothing like torture and healing potions, right?”
“Sounds pretty horrible.”
“I’d imagine it is.”
The girl started down the street, and I followed.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“Capital city of the Empire.”
“Yeah, but—”
“It’s called the Senate.”
“I thought I saw a palace, is it, I mean, are we near the palace?”
“You know where the palace is?”
“Did my best to memorize the city when I was above it.”
“We’re reasonably close, I guess. Before you get too into the government, it’s a wonky elective monarchy as far as I can tell. Emperor at the top and a Senate that, well, makes recommendations the Emperor ignores.”
“Is this a good neighborhood?”
“It’s the home of the Senate and the city home of lots of the lower tier Senators. Lots of money, lots of important people, lots of places to eat, lots of places to get a thief like you arrested. You don’t want to be here right now.”
“Now?“
“At your level, one?”
“Four, thank you.”
“Go you,” she said. “That asshole killing me, he was doing it to level up. Part of the bonus they offer new members.”
“They?”
“His gang. There’s another cat, the one who was with him, he’s the one you need to watch out for. Somehow, he’s got an ability that lets him reset your spawn point.”
“So he can make it so anyone can spawn camp someone like us.”
She nodded, but never looked at me, at least, not when I noticed it. Instead, her eyes roved around, always on the move, constantly on the watch for, well, I supposed for anything. “So why’d you pick the dark side?”
“The what?”
“Crime. You want to be a thief, right? You picked the thief kit. I’m assuming you’ve got Rogue as your Choice. Am I wrong yet?”
“No, but, I mean, I’m not looking to, you know, rape or murder anyone.”
“Thievery and arson?”
“Thievery. It was what I did back home, figured I’d continue doing it here.”
She stopped walking and looked over at me.
“You were a criminal?” she asked.
“I was a thief. I never hurt anyone, I never—”
“Clearly I also chose thief, so you don’t need to explain it to me. I was just curious why you chose to be a thief here.”
“I thought, maybe, my past skills might transfer over. Why did you?”
“I figured, in a world with respawns I wanted to do something more dangerous.”
“You know, I didn’t realize there were respawns.”
“You didn’t think to ask?”
“Ask who?”
Her eyebrow arched up, and she looked perplexed, then she seemed to look around. She shrugged and started walking again.
“Wait a minute,” I said, quick-stepping a few times to catch up to her, “who did you talk to?”
“I think it’s something I’m not allowed to talk to you about.’
“What does that mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. This is a land of secrets, some you can discover, others have to remain secret. Like, we’ll both be punished if I tell you, sorry.”
“But—”
“Look, this is certainly a lot to take in, I get it, I’ve been there. I’m trying to help, but clearly not doing the best job. Given my situation, though, I have to leave town, forever. And soon. Like, you know, now. Ish. You want to come, I’d consider having a traveling companion.”
“You don’t know me from, uh, anyone.”
“Yeah, but you saved my hide, so, you know, I’m willing to extend a little trust your way.”
“I was kind of interested in city life.”
“It has an allure,” she replied. “I was doing my best to make a life here. I’m going to try and get you going on your own then, in what time we have, okay? Give you what tips and tricks I’ve gotten through bad experiences living here. And, if you want to help me actually get out of Glaton with the chances of making a real life somewhere else, I’ll hook you up with a little surprise.”
You have been offered a quest by Etta:
Help Etta Out of Town
Assist Etta in leaving Glaton, get her safely to the caravans with the belongings she feels are necessary to escape with. And don’t die.
Reward for success: A Surprise
Penalty for failure (or refusal): None
Yes/No
I smiled immediately. A big stupid smile. I got a quest. A quest! And just getting confirmation that that was the way the world worked filled me with the big fuzzies. Because I could play a game. Games were what I knew, what I lived for, and they had rules. Rules that could be followed, bent, and broken for my own—
“First quest?” Etta, the girl, asked.
“Yep, it’s kind of crazy.”
She smiled, “Kind of awesome?”
I nodded, then selected yes on the quest.
“Great,” she said, “let’s motor.”
10
And motor she did. She wasn’t entirely running, but she was definitely keeping a brisk pace.
“I’m guessing you picked up that my name is Etta,” she said. “Etta Puck. And I’m not telling you my Earth name. Don’t tell me yours. That’s likely still your true name, and that has power. Keep it secret, keep it safe.”
“Sure thing, Gandalf.”
“Yeah, funny, but keep that pop culture stuff to a minimum, else you’re gonna be easy to spot. This is your new reality, get to know it, get to love it, and get to living it. Rule number one for life in Vuldranni: This is reality. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Now, your name?”
“Clyde Hatchet.”
She shook her head as she walked.
“What?” I asked.
“Clyde Hatchett? Really? You use a Dashiell Hammet name generator on that one?”
“No, I—”
She waved me away, “I’m messing with you. It’s not easy coming up with a name, and it’s not like Etta Puck is amazing. I’ve come up with a thousand better names since I got here.”
We left the small side street, took a small curvy road for about a block, and then hit a wide thoroughfare virtually covered with a diverse range of people. There was an extensive range of species, cultures, sizes, looks, and all of it was novel and fascinating to me, and I did my best to seem disinterested at it all. Which, you know, having been a surly teenage boy in the good ol’ US of A for a spell, that was something I’d had quite of bit experience doing. I just slapped on my best teen-forced-to-hang-out-with-the-parents expression and swallowed the excitement and intrigue at seeing elves, dwarves, minotaurs and a cornucopia of other humanoids I couldn’t identify. And yet, at the same time, there was a serious feeling of wonder. It was straight-up awesome to see everything around me.
Something pinched my arm, and I looked over to see Etta glowering my direction.
“Tone it down, Hatchett,” she said. “Still touristing.”
“Sorry,” I said.
The pinching stopped, but she kept a grip on me, leading me through the crowd. I appreciated that, I knew I’d be in trouble if I had to follow her. There was so much going on, I could only pay atten
tion to not looking like I was paying attention to anything, let alone trying to follow Etta through the crowd.
Someone yelled out, and all of us city folk moved to either side of the street until we were essentially squished onto the sidewalk and no longer moving. In the mild silence, I heard marching feet and the jangle of armor.
“The Legion,” Etta whispered in my ear. “Or at least some of them. Rule two, these guys have the right of way. Really, everyone higher station than you has the right of way, which for, lowlifes like you and me, is everyone. But especially the Legion. Watch yourself on the street.”
As the marchers came into view, I realized I was holding my breath in a mixture of excitement and fear. The soldiers doing the marching were very hard looking men and women. Their armor was well used and well cared for, and they had the appearance of people who’d earned their scars. The people around me looked on their Legion with legitimate respect.
“Are these the police?” I whisper-asked Etta.
“It’s complicated,” she whispered back in English, “and not a conversation for out of doors.”
There were, maybe, a hundred members of the Legion marching by, and once gone, the street quickly resumed its frantic pace. We, however, stayed standing along the wall, just watching the people moving around us.
“Welcome to the Empire,” Etta said, continuing in quiet English. “You know it’s called Glaton, right?”
“I picked up on that, yeah.”
“Everyone in the city, and probably the Empire, thinks this city is the best thing ever. Very proud of it. They’ll tell you it’s the biggest city with the most technological innovation and the very best quality of life. Might be true. I don’t know. No way to know, there’s basically no knowledge of the wider world. I’m not sure anyone knows what else is in the Empire, let alone outside of it. Geography is not a popular subject here.”
“Kind of like geology back home.”
“Rule one?”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t mistake these people for being dumb,” she said, “think back on rule one all the time. This is a reality, and these people have lived in it for a long time. There’s a reason some technology is where it is. There’s other stuff here, a lot of it bad. Most of it bad, really. We’re now more in the middle of the food chain, way down from the top. Which reminds me of rule, uh, four. Don’t go out at night, that’s when more of the bad things are out.”
“Bad things?”
“You know all those nightmare monsters you came up with when you had to pee but were too afraid to get out of bed?”
“That’s so specific it hurts. Yes.”
“Just a fraction of what’s really out there. And the bad things seem to prefer the dark. Mostly. Daytime isn’t so awesome either. Just, you know, learn how to defend yourself.”
“Is there a rule three?”
“Did I skip three?”
“Yes.”
“Moving quickly, apologies, I’ll come back to that.”
And we were moving again. As far as I could tell, there were several regimented sizes of streets. Alleys were the smallest, some as little as two feet wide, but usually six to ten. Side streets had some front doors to buildings, tiny houses tucked in between more substantial blocks of buildings. There were regular streets which could fit a carriage and some people, the middle size streets which could do two carriages and people on either side. And then we came to an absolutely massive road. Multiple lanes wide, it could probably have worked as a stretch of freeway in Los Angeles. We stopped at the edge of the road, and just let the other people go around us. There wasn’t a ton of vehicular traffic on the massive street, though that might have just been an effect of the sheer size of the thing. I remembered from my vertical pause the two giant roads, how the one north-south ran directly to the palace.
“This is one of the two main roads in the city,” she said. “The Via Praetoria.”
“Is this the north-south one?” I asked.
She nodded but seemed a little irritated I’d interrupted her.
“And this goes to the palace?” I asked, looking to the north. I didn’t see if she nodded in response, but seeing the massive structure at the end of the road, distant though it was, confirmed things for me. The architecture of the place was beautiful, incredible, and bordered on unreal. Behind the white stone palace were dark mountains, brooding over the city. It was definitely an exciting and fantastic look.
“Yeah, so,” Etta continued while I drooled at the palace, “the east-west one is called the Via Principalis. Goes from East Gate to Death’s Gate.”
“Wait, what?”
“Death’s Gate. That’s the name of it. Don’t ask me the history, I don’t know it. Something to do with battle there, might be something to do with the fact that there’s no one really living out the west of the city, I don’t know. Okay? There are only three official gates into the city, South, East, and Death.”
“Weird. Are the street names in Latin?”
“Yes. Maybe. Not one-hundred percent sure. I have some theories about Glaton and the 9th Legion, but let’s get through the useful stuff before we go into my tinfoil hat theories. Memorize your way home from one of the two main streets because you can always find your way to one of them. And you will get lost here, more than once. This is a big city, and the layout is confusing and stupid.”
“Okay, seemed to be the case with all the old European cities—”
“Rule one.”
“Sorry.”
“But you’re not wrong. Lots of neighborhoods here, get to know them, it’ll save your butt. I got lucky, back when I had luck, and I got a place in Old Town. It’s to the Southwest and our first stop. You get any gold off that asshole in the alley?”
“Some.”
“Give it,” she said, hand out.
I shrugged and passed the pouch with a mixture of coins over to Etta. I figured there was probably more total currency in the larger pouch with just golden coins, and it was a good thing to keep secret.
“Frazzlin’ A,” she said, peeking into the leather bag.
I definitely shot her a look for the weird phrase frazzlin, but she completely ignored me, and it made me wonder if, perhaps, frazzlin’ was a contemporary Glatonese curse.
“Thank the gods,” she said, “we’re going the fast way. Wasn’t sure we’d have time to walk.”
She leaned into the thoroughfare and let out a powerful whistle.
A small hansom carriage pulled away from the flow of traffic and came to lurching stop in front of us. The driver was an ornery woman with grey hair, a very loose definition of dental hygiene, and yellow fingernails that could easily have doubled as actual talons.
“Where to?” the driver asked, her voice surprisingly robust.
I looked over at the horses, wondering if the things were actually up to pulling us and the carriage. They were very much skin and bones, really just this side of skeletons.
“Old Town,” Etta said, reaching her hand up to pull herself into the carriage.
“You actually got the coin, moppet?” the driver asked with a leer.
“You’ll get your gold, crone,” Etta said, flipping a golden coin up at the lady.
Our driver flinched back, the scrambled for the money a second before snatching it resolutely. She gave the coin the once over, then smiled a horrific sort of rictus.
“All aboard then,” the driver said.
I hopped inside.
11
I wouldn’t call the carriage uncomfortable, but it left a bit to be desired. The combination of smells coming from the driver and horses were pungent and awful, and the interior of the carriage seemed like it had been purposefully left filthy. There might have been padding on the seats at one time, but these days, there was just the hint of leather and the reality of hard, unyielding wood. On the other hand, we were moving at speed now, much faster than we had been pushing our way through the crowds walking along the sides of the Via Praetorium. Also I h
ad a modicum of privacy so I could gawk out my little window without the concern of being labeled a tourist.
“Do we need to worry about being overheard here?” I asked.
“Because you’re going to try and seduce me?” Etta replied.
“No, I—”
“I’m messing with you. Probably, but she’s not going to care. She knows I know what she is, she’ll keep our secrets if we keep hers.”
“Which is?”
“She’s a witch.”
“A witch?”
“Oh, definitely. Didn’t you see the nails? The thrall-horses?”
“I don’t know what any of that stuff is.”
She snapped her fingers.
“Sorry, you’re new. I think maybe, there might be an aftereffect of so many deaths in quick succession, I’m having a little trouble keeping everything straight. But yeah, she’s a witch. Nails are talons, horses aren’t quite alive.”
“Not quite alive?”
“They look sickly, right?”
“Worse than that.”
“They are worse than that. Those are things that are dying but aren’t fully dead yet. Kept alive with magic.”
“That’s messed up.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Don’t others notice that sort of stuff? Seems pretty—”
“Apparent?”
“Yeah.”
“One part willful ignorance, one part distance. We looked out of place, the witch knew she could charge us a bit more, and we’d probably keep her secret. I’m sure there’s a mild illusion spell on those horses, keeps them looking more lifelike.”
“Is magic super cheap?”
“Magic is a big confusing question, especially in the Empire.”
“How so?”
She took a breath, seemed to debate what she wanted to say to me, and then she shook her head. “Let’s hold off on that discussion. The top is the palace, south is the South Gate. Go that way long enough, you’ll get to the ocean, but if you really want to go to the ocean, take the river. Faster and safer. Somewhat.”
