The crimson sky stretched out endlessly.
Aldric paid it little mind. He stared straight ahead. He was on the high southern plain of Mava; below lay the city of the same name. He had walked for five days across barren land. He was far from home now, though he no longer truly cared, his home had vanished along with everyone who had lived there.
He prepared to make his descent toward the city. The city was a near-identical copy of every other village in the East: stone buildings with lime-washed roofs. Gargoyles were never far off, naturally perched on the rooftops of houses and on the chapel… the church.
Just as Aldric began his descent, a young man, perhaps two years older than him, stopped him.
"Excuse me. There are steps leading down to the village. It's much easier than coming down the slope like that."
Aldric looked around and spotted the steps. A faint pang of embarrassment rose in him, only to be immediately dispersed by his pragmatism. I didn't know, he told himself. To him, there was no shame in not knowing something, the real shame was knowing and still making the mistake.
"Thank you," he replied.
He began making his way toward the steps. The black sand rubbed against his bare feet, a sensation he had never quite managed to get used to. He sensed someone following him.
"You look young to be out here all alone. Where are your parents? The roads are too dangerous for a child to wander by themselves." It was the same voice as before. "You must be what, 14 or 15? It's very dangerous out here."
"19," Aldric replied simply.
He had no desire to talk with the young man, but the politeness inherited from his former station clung to him like a second skin.
"What?" the young man exclaimed. "19? You're only a year younger than me!"
The young man's reaction wasn't all that surprising. Anyone who caught a glimpse of Aldric could be forgiven for thinking he was younger than he actually was.
He was lean and short enough to be mistaken for a child. His hands too; unlike his feet, which were unevenly darkened were so clean and small that one might almost compare them to those of a young noble… if they only knew.
"Oh, by the way, my name is Roman Pars."
The young man let a silence settle, clearly waiting for Aldric to introduce himself.
"Aldric," he said at last.
"Just Aldric?"
"Just Aldric."
"Well then, Aldric, welcome to Mava, the third largest city in the East after Bivich and Fort-Tentain. Have you come to see family?"
"No. I have no family."
Aldric was fairly certain Roman had not understood the full meaning of that sentence, but no matter, it would help avoid further questions on the subject.
"Hm, I see. I'd suggest picking up a coat at the market. It gets really cold at night."
"Alright, thank you," said Aldric. He had no money, but that wasn't his companion's problem.
Then came the question he had been hoping most to avoid.
"Where are you planning to stay? There are two inns that offer beds that are not already occupied by fleas and bedbugs. They're expensive, obviously. Otherwise, there's the chapel — they sometimes offer beds to travelers. With any luck they might still have some available."
Of course, Aldric had not planned on staying at one of those overpriced inns, but he was even less inclined to sleep in a chapel.
He had planned to spend the night in the dark alleys of the city. He didn't intend to last long anyway.
He was about to answer when a sharp heat flared in his left arm.
Damn, he thought. Not now.
"Goodbye," he said, with a haste that surprised even himself.
He quickened his pace down the steps. Reaching the bottom, he ran toward a tree large enough to conceal him entirely.
What are you doing? asked a voice that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Why are you hiding? These people, the church, they took everything from you. Today it is your turn to take everything from them. Go on. I will give you the strength you need. Unleash your rage. Destroy them all.
"Shut up," Aldric snapped aloud. He was drenched in sweat, his heart pounding.
He needed to think of something else, something that didn't enrage him. He knew that, but every time he tried, his thoughts would inevitably drift back to his family, and inescapably to the church.
So, he began thinking about the last town he had passed through. A place so small it was barely more than a village. He thought about the pretty barmaid he had seen at the tavern, about the duel of honour he had witnessed between two men. From what he had gathered, the older one had been married, and his wife had welcomed another man into their bed. The act being a stain on his honour, he had challenged the man to a duel. He had lost, and the man took his wife and left. Even more dishonoured than before, he did the only thing he could in that moment: he drove his sword into his own gut.
He died there on the spot. The spectators who had gathered around the duel gradually dispersed, and two guards came to remove the now-lifeless body.
They were dark thoughts, he was aware of that but they were far more bearable than anything he had actually lived through. And the church had no place in them; the local chapel was inevitably lurking at the periphery of his memory, yes, but it was distant enough not to rekindle the flame of his rage.
He calmed down. The voice faded into a silence that Aldric had learned to read as anticipation rather than stillness. The heat too subsided quietly. He rose and stepped out from the shadow of the tree.
He caught sight of Roman entering the city. He walked toward the great metal gate.
A guard and a priest stood there. There were always guards and priests at the gates of cities large enough to warrant them. They were meant to represent the two powers that governed every citizen of the empire: the Church and the Crown. It was all for show, of course the Church was the true authority. Everyone knew it, even if no one dared say so.
One only had to look at the royal family, whose heads fell as frequently as the rains in the southern regions. All those who dared question the Church's doctrine was either found lifeless in their beds or simply vanished without a trace.
The Church's influence was everywhere, and it was beginning to spread beyond the Subjugated Lands, as the other nation called the Empire of the New Dawn.
"Identification and purpose of entry," said the guard coldly. It was surely the hundredth time he had said that today.
"Aldric, simple traveller. Just passing through."
The guard studied Aldric while the priest clearly looked as though he wished he were somewhere else.
"Just Aldric?"
"Just Aldric."
"Very well," said the guard, handing him a red-painted metal tag. "Enjoy your stay and keep your nose clean."
"Thank you," said Aldric simply.
And so he entered the city. The streets of Mava stretched out before his eyes.
The first thing that struck him was the cleanliness. Every town and village he had passed through had been staggeringly filthy.
Mava was different. Dirt was certainly present, but it was more structured, more organised.
The red and black stone houses spread out in every direction. At first Aldric saw no pattern to them, but he quickly realised they were arranged in clusters of six, each sharing a common courtyard. They were all alike, except for those belonging to people wealthy enough to personalise their homes usually senior officials.
Aldric didn't know where to go. It was always like this: he arrived in a city, drifted about, and then remembered why he was there. His cousin, he was here for her.
He needed information. He decided to head toward the market square, where he found a diverse crowd: children playing on the stone ground, parents watching their children while chatting about various things, vendors calling out their wares and prices, and tourists eyeing the goods with studied hesitation.
"Hey, little one. Want some sweets? I've got candies that give you powers. Here, two for the price of one. Where's your parent?" called a vendor whose stall gave the impression it had been built from straw and optimism.
"I think you have the wrong customer. I'm not looking for sweets. I'm looking for information," Aldric said simply. He had learned long ago to stop getting annoyed at the mistake everyone made.
"Oh, you're not a child," the vendor replied with an uncomfortable tone. "My apologies. If it's information you're after, go see Vana. She's at the north entrance of the market, I believe, near the artisans' quarter. Though she doesn't do charity."
Of course not, thought Aldric.
"Thank you."
"May Divine protection go with you." It wasn't a genuine wish, more a prayer that had over time become mere recitation. Aldric didn't care one bit. She abandoned me, he told himself.
Aldric had been a believer once, his whole family had been. But after everything that had happened, faith had slowly withered away. He believed in nothing now.
He moved away from the stall and headed toward the north entrance. He would have to cross the entire market to get there.
He walked, taking in his surroundings. Mava was the largest city he had seen so far. It brimmed with life. But life here didn't seem beautiful. In truth, there were very few places in the empire where life could be called beautiful. Most of the men had backs bent by fieldwork and mining; almost all the children were thin. The smell of bread pulled Aldric from his thoughts; he was hungry, but he had no money. He had spent it all foolishly at the tavern in the previous town, Teora. He had in fact spent most of his stay there simply because of the barmaid. She was so beautiful he couldn't bring himself to leave, and since the only rule of the tavern was spent to stay, he spent.
He cursed the barmaid now but he cursed himself too. He hadn't even had the courage to ask her name. What a coward, he told himself.
At last, he reached the north entrance. He turned left past a stall selling medicinal plants, and that's when he saw him.
"Well, if it isn't the boy from earlier. Uh… Aldric, right?"
"Yes, Roman."
"Ah, you remember my name, that's nice. So, doing some shopping?"
Aldric hesitated to say what he was doing. But he had no reason not to speak.
"I'm looking for someone. A woman called Vana."
Roman's face twisted into an expression Aldric had never seen before; it looked like something a child might draw.
"Why are you looking for her?" Roman finally said, with a seriousness that surprised Aldric.
"I need information."
"I see. Follow me, I'll take you to her."
"You know her?"
"Do I know her…she's my sister."
Interesting, thought Aldric. Very interesting.