50th Day of Spring, 509 AV
Crisp air streamed past her exposed ears, the clatter of Eplah’s hooves resonating dully against the path. They climbed gradually higher, galloping full tilt up the sloping hill. Her cloak roiled in the wind behind her like a set of emerald wings, hair flying. Despite her numb extremities, Sybel felt so happy she was fit to burst. It had been a mild day of travel until that point. When they took off, the combined speed and the weather had generated an unforgettable experience. The earth was rich and green, the dandelion clouds surreal additions to the vast teal sky. It was so very open. As they crested the hill, Sybel reined in her steaming mount. There it was – Nyka, the divine city.
It was nestled amongst farmlands, half-grown wheat stalks swaying delicately in the breeze. The city proper looked almost like a wooden toy at that distance, a finely crafted beige model. It had a uniform appeal from what she could discern. Despite the varying shapes of the buildings, they all upheld some unspoken code. The land arable, the air fresh… This was going to be a good time, she decided. Nudging Eplah’s flanks, they set off at a milder pace down toward the Celestial Seat.
The model crept closer and closer, until it was no longer a distant outline, but a fully functioning locale. After a brief exchange at the Gate, she was in. Happily, she walked along in search of the nearest stable so her friend could receive a much needed rest. The streets were narrow and filled with various brightly colored pedestrians, busily going their way. She observed the expressions of each passerby as she moved amongst the throngs of people. They were surprisingly stern despite the vivid garb. Some even glowered openly at her, their stares hard and unwelcoming. That didn’t bode well, she reflected with unease.
Someone grasped her elbow and yanked. “Get back!” They whispered sharply as she came upon a sudden clearing in the crowd. As the ranks broke, she saw exactly why; A street fight was going on right in front of them. Men in thick brown robes were battling fiercely against a pack of weasel-faced ruffians. The robes had some unknown crest emblazoned on the front. Sybel caught glimpse of what looked like a sheaf of wheat. They brawled like thugs, the robed ones clearly with the advantage. Blows resonated with meaty thuds. A nearby man had his nose cleanly broken, the sickening crunch of cartilage just close enough to hear. The fight was short and bloody, ending in the final contender falling to the ground in a heap. He was clearly unconscious – the monk knocked him cold. At least they seemed to be monks. Sybel was incredibly confused.
As the scene began to clear up, the flow of traffic resumed. She turned to face the person who had pulled her from danger. With a frown, she realized there was no longer anyone there. Just another irritated passerby who chafed at her lack of movement. “Get out of the way!” He urged irritably. “What was that?” She asked dubiously, still recovering. “The monks, that’s what. Those men were clearly in the wrong. Now move. Please.” He replied between clenched teeth. Sighing, turned and resumed her walk.
When she finally nailed down the location of a Stable, she was determined to figure out what happened. The stable boy helped illuminate some of the mystery as they boarded her steed. “You’re not from around here.” He stated as soon as she’d come into view. “No,” she answered with a grin. “Can you tell?” He laughed at that.
“Finally, someone with a sense of humor.” She commented wryly, handing the over the reins. “I bet. You won’t find a lot to laugh about around here,” he remarked as he busied himself. “Why’s that?” Sybel’s look altered to concern. “Oh I don’t know, rising tension between the monks and a giant crack through the city that demons crawl out of at night. Other than that, we’re a barrel full of laughs.” A what? “You said a giant what? A crack?”
“That’s right ma’am. I figured that’d shock the ebony out of your hair. You foreigners are all alike, I tell you. Don’t you read?” His tone was not unkind, just somewhat miffed. “The crack is called the Aperture, deep as a well and as wide as the city itself. I bet you think you’re gonna get yourself some grub, too.” The face she’d been making went from concern to the precipice of horror. “What do you mean, I think?” She emphasized each syllable with disbelief.
On the kid's end, it was all for show. The Aperture was to be feared and respected sure, but it wasn't some gruesome horror. Still, it was so fun to torment travelers. “Food's for citizens.” He said, drinking in her reaction. It was always fun to hassle newcomers. “Foreigners can’t just waltz in and buy it. You want food, you’ll have to eat your own.” That meant no alcohol either, she realized with a grimace. Things just went from bad to worse. “Thanks for the advice, friend.” Sybel glared at him in a fit of pique. Turning to leave, he stopped her one last time. “One more thing,” he called. Whirling around, she faced him. “What?” She replied waspishly.
“Better find an Inn somewhere. No one’s allowed out at night except the monks. It’s bad for your health, what with the demons and all.”
“Goodbye.” She said, fuming.
“Bye now.” He said, a grin splitting his cheeks.
She found herself at the Safehaven Hostel just before sundown, being reluctantly admitted by the retired monk that ran it. Sybel sat down at a table sourly. Though the kid had provided her with a whole wealth of invaluable information, she still couldn’t help but feel resentful. It was almost as if he took perverse pleasure in bearing the bad news to each new face. That pockmarked little brat. Burying her face in the triangle of her arms, she sank into melancholia.
“No sleeping!” The woman said sharply, and Sybel rose straight as an arrow.
This is going to be a bad time, she decided. A very bad time.
Crisp air streamed past her exposed ears, the clatter of Eplah’s hooves resonating dully against the path. They climbed gradually higher, galloping full tilt up the sloping hill. Her cloak roiled in the wind behind her like a set of emerald wings, hair flying. Despite her numb extremities, Sybel felt so happy she was fit to burst. It had been a mild day of travel until that point. When they took off, the combined speed and the weather had generated an unforgettable experience. The earth was rich and green, the dandelion clouds surreal additions to the vast teal sky. It was so very open. As they crested the hill, Sybel reined in her steaming mount. There it was – Nyka, the divine city.
It was nestled amongst farmlands, half-grown wheat stalks swaying delicately in the breeze. The city proper looked almost like a wooden toy at that distance, a finely crafted beige model. It had a uniform appeal from what she could discern. Despite the varying shapes of the buildings, they all upheld some unspoken code. The land arable, the air fresh… This was going to be a good time, she decided. Nudging Eplah’s flanks, they set off at a milder pace down toward the Celestial Seat.
The model crept closer and closer, until it was no longer a distant outline, but a fully functioning locale. After a brief exchange at the Gate, she was in. Happily, she walked along in search of the nearest stable so her friend could receive a much needed rest. The streets were narrow and filled with various brightly colored pedestrians, busily going their way. She observed the expressions of each passerby as she moved amongst the throngs of people. They were surprisingly stern despite the vivid garb. Some even glowered openly at her, their stares hard and unwelcoming. That didn’t bode well, she reflected with unease.
Someone grasped her elbow and yanked. “Get back!” They whispered sharply as she came upon a sudden clearing in the crowd. As the ranks broke, she saw exactly why; A street fight was going on right in front of them. Men in thick brown robes were battling fiercely against a pack of weasel-faced ruffians. The robes had some unknown crest emblazoned on the front. Sybel caught glimpse of what looked like a sheaf of wheat. They brawled like thugs, the robed ones clearly with the advantage. Blows resonated with meaty thuds. A nearby man had his nose cleanly broken, the sickening crunch of cartilage just close enough to hear. The fight was short and bloody, ending in the final contender falling to the ground in a heap. He was clearly unconscious – the monk knocked him cold. At least they seemed to be monks. Sybel was incredibly confused.
As the scene began to clear up, the flow of traffic resumed. She turned to face the person who had pulled her from danger. With a frown, she realized there was no longer anyone there. Just another irritated passerby who chafed at her lack of movement. “Get out of the way!” He urged irritably. “What was that?” She asked dubiously, still recovering. “The monks, that’s what. Those men were clearly in the wrong. Now move. Please.” He replied between clenched teeth. Sighing, turned and resumed her walk.
When she finally nailed down the location of a Stable, she was determined to figure out what happened. The stable boy helped illuminate some of the mystery as they boarded her steed. “You’re not from around here.” He stated as soon as she’d come into view. “No,” she answered with a grin. “Can you tell?” He laughed at that.
“Finally, someone with a sense of humor.” She commented wryly, handing the over the reins. “I bet. You won’t find a lot to laugh about around here,” he remarked as he busied himself. “Why’s that?” Sybel’s look altered to concern. “Oh I don’t know, rising tension between the monks and a giant crack through the city that demons crawl out of at night. Other than that, we’re a barrel full of laughs.” A what? “You said a giant what? A crack?”
“That’s right ma’am. I figured that’d shock the ebony out of your hair. You foreigners are all alike, I tell you. Don’t you read?” His tone was not unkind, just somewhat miffed. “The crack is called the Aperture, deep as a well and as wide as the city itself. I bet you think you’re gonna get yourself some grub, too.” The face she’d been making went from concern to the precipice of horror. “What do you mean, I think?” She emphasized each syllable with disbelief.
On the kid's end, it was all for show. The Aperture was to be feared and respected sure, but it wasn't some gruesome horror. Still, it was so fun to torment travelers. “Food's for citizens.” He said, drinking in her reaction. It was always fun to hassle newcomers. “Foreigners can’t just waltz in and buy it. You want food, you’ll have to eat your own.” That meant no alcohol either, she realized with a grimace. Things just went from bad to worse. “Thanks for the advice, friend.” Sybel glared at him in a fit of pique. Turning to leave, he stopped her one last time. “One more thing,” he called. Whirling around, she faced him. “What?” She replied waspishly.
“Better find an Inn somewhere. No one’s allowed out at night except the monks. It’s bad for your health, what with the demons and all.”
“Goodbye.” She said, fuming.
“Bye now.” He said, a grin splitting his cheeks.
She found herself at the Safehaven Hostel just before sundown, being reluctantly admitted by the retired monk that ran it. Sybel sat down at a table sourly. Though the kid had provided her with a whole wealth of invaluable information, she still couldn’t help but feel resentful. It was almost as if he took perverse pleasure in bearing the bad news to each new face. That pockmarked little brat. Burying her face in the triangle of her arms, she sank into melancholia.
“No sleeping!” The woman said sharply, and Sybel rose straight as an arrow.
This is going to be a bad time, she decided. A very bad time.
