“Split up?!” Nona exclaimed.
“Yeah, that sounds pretty stupid,” Reke agreed.
Condi merely chuckled at his companions’ objections. “Relax, friends. You may have to travel after Nightpass, but you’ll be close enough to the Imperial City to be protected by Elvish garrisons outside the City. And if that madman tries to chase you, I’ll be right here to intercept him,” he explained.
Nona frowned anyway. He knew they were close to the Imperial City, but anything could happen! There could be bandits or bad weather might slow them down (even though the skies were clear this morning) or Nighbeasts lurking about. If it came down to any sort of nastiness like last night, he did not fancy their chances. It was clear that they were unconvinced, so Condi unhooked a reed pipe from his back and offered it to the human: “If you ever get into trouble, call me with this,” he said.
To Nona’s eyes, it looked more like a log than a pipe, with the only similarities being that they were both long and thin. No matter how he held it, gnarled bark poked into his hands, and it took some consideration to determine which side the mouthpiece was on. He eyed Condi skeptically, but gave it an experimental blow, despite having no experience, or no memory of an experience, of ever blowing a pipe. Against all his expectations, the pipe let out a high-pitched, clear note across the plains. The human twisted around the new pipe in his hands, spotting a small engraving, which read: [i]Where the Slumbering Goddess rests, all shall hear the Call[/i]. He began to ask Condi about the strange riddle, but the bioshifter shooed them off, complaining about wasting daylight.
It was a tense journey. Nona kept his head on a swivel, looking back and forth across the plains, searching for any threat among the blank, empty fields. There was nothing there, but that didn’t stop him for being prepared for a danger he would have no way of countering, running, or hiding form. Reke loudly complained about Nona’s shoulder being far too tight for comfortable journey. He was grateful for the ride, but all this unnecessary stress was making for terrible service. And the lizlai had to get his snacks by himself! Next time he went on a rescue mission, Reke would be sure to travel with a higher quality steed. Soon enough, after they had taken their lunch, the vast plains gradually morphed into rolling hills, gentle lumps that the path wound around, and the hazy silhouette of the Imperial City in front of the mountainous backdrop came into view.
As they traveled further into the hills, the walls popped in and out a view, the bastion that kept enlarging with their progress. The path struggled to weave around the hills, which were becoming tighter, forcing Nona to climb in some sections. It wasn’t long before Nona started to realize the full extent of the city. It was massive. Standing atop a smaller hill, the immaculate white walls were behind each window of hillside and stretched as far as he could see. They even seemed to be getting bigger as he watched them. Soon, a slight tremor in the ground pulled Nona back to reality, and they set off once more.
The path was now set in between valleys of very steep hills, nearly unclimbable hills. Nona was often forced to his hands and knees to get up the path, although it’s very possible that they went offroad a few times. Nona’s absentmindedness earned a few of Reke’s criticisms, but they were easily countered by the fact that the lizlai was technically supposed to be his navigator. The City Walls kept them directed however, so the travelers wove their way between the grass hills, scrunched up against each other in rows, like giant’s egg carton. The tremors were getting worse too, and more frequent. Soon enough, the found themselves blocked by a near-wall of grass, and also in an argument on whether they had gone off the trail again. To resolve the issue, Nona resigned himself to climbing another one of these, much to the protest of his thighs.
When he made it to the top, they found themselves staring at the busiest market Reke had ever seen. He’d heard tales of how much stuff is shipped into the Imperial City but seeing the trading in action was something else entirely. A mix of hastily erected stands, tents, and shanty houses, with folks packed tightly together, the clamor of merchants hawking their wares and the clamor of haggling reaching their ears on the hill. Even the stench of human and animal filth, along with rot rose up to meet them, though it wasn’t as bad as Nona would have thought. The pristine white walls of the Imperial City towered over the Outskirts, its faceless face looming at the boisterous place, and a great cloud of dust hung over the ramshackle rooves of the Outskirts. They stood, gaping at the nearly endless city outside the City, until a particularly hefty ground tremor knocked Nona off the hill, and sent him tumbling down into the market.
He crashed through a tent and into a stand, sending bright green vegetable orbs spilling out into the road. The orcish owner began yelling at him, mourning the loss of perfectly “good” cabbages, so Nona hastily threw a few of them back into the stand and fled. Nobody seemed to pay any mind but jostled around each other to get wherever they were headed. The Outskirts were a mess, even from afar, that was apparent, but, once they were immersed in the chaos, it became clear that this place was completely disorganized. The road would end abruptly, with houses or inns built right in the path. Alleyways were chock full of vendors and shoppers or guarded fiercely by tough-looking thugs. To get around, people simply jumped fences, walked through backyards, or on top of rooves, as if private property was as much a road as anything else in the Outskirts. It was hard to breath, with the light cloud of dust hanging over the entire place. The noise of hundreds of meandering conversations surrounded them as the bewildered travelers tried to make their way to the Walls, dodging hooves and desperate beggars.
The Outskirts suddenly ended, as if somebody drew an invisible line where nobody was allowed to go, leaving a muddy, empty space in between the walls and the Outskirts. Even the clamor died down, and it smelled more of mud than filth in this empty section of the City. As Nona was gaping up at the massive, pristine face, the ground began to rumble. The walls shook, dug into the ground, churning up the dirt and sending a wave of dust in Nona’s face, and moved, expanding towards Nona. He stumbled back, struggling against the shaking earth, Reke holding on for dear life in his saddle, back towards the rickety fences of the Outskirts. As soon as it had begun, the walls halted, standing as still as if nothing had happened. Nona wiped the dust out of his face with a grimy sleeve while the snickers and jeers of reptilian locals followed him into the Outskirts.
They wandered around for a bit, looking for a place to stay, since it was soon coming to Nightfall. Reke insisted on getting inside the Imperial Walls for the night, where he thought it would be considerably safer and less unbearable, so they searched for some sort of gate where shipments must come through. After asking for directions multiple times, all of which were met with either incomprehensible slang, overcomplicated series of climbs and turns, or outright threats on their purse, they wound up in the “nicer” part of the Outskirts, if such a thing existed. Here, there was space in between structures; for once, the travelers could tell where one merchant’s goods ended and the next began. Instead of wooden or clay buildings, the residents here were smart enough to know that nothing lasts long in the Outskirts, so they set up tents instead, strategically placed in wide circles, so that many shoppers could pick through their wares.
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Edited by CommonBlueberry: 2/20/2022 2:51:29 AM“Ignore it, just keep moving,” Reke whispered in his ear tugging him forward. Nona started to move on, but the voice called out again, and, from the depths of one of the fancier-looking tents, with colorful patterned rugs draped around the canvas exterior, emerged a woman. Her skin was completely green, from head to toe. Dark hair with red highlights cascaded around her face beneath a wide-brimmed, exquisite hat, with a large blue feather pinned to the side. Bangles and trinkets adorned her bare arms and neck, weigh down a silky red top. Her pants were ginormous, flaring out from a thick waistband and tapering down at the ankles, with colors and patterns that seemed to move as she sauntered over to Nona. She grabbed Nona’s sleeve and dragged him into her tent, completely ignoring his swift apologies and protests. “My, my, I am glad I caught you afore you made a grave mistake,” she was saying above his words. “Mistake?” Nona asked, eyeing the woman suspiciously in the dim gloom of her tent. “Oh dear, how could I forget the introduction!” she exclaimed, completely ignoring his question. She gave him the deepest curtsy she possibly could, her hair spilling out into the ground. Her hat miraculously stayed on, but Nona had to take a step back to avoid the gargantuan feather. Reke rolled his eyes at her antics. She held the pose for a few seconds before rising and extending a slender, braceleted hand, “Phyllis, humble merchant, at your service.” Nona glanced at the hand, unsure what exactly to do with it, before Reke prompted him, whispering in his ear to shake it. Startled, he quickly grasped her hand and gave it a wobbly horizontal shake, swinging their wrists back and forth. “Nona,” he introduced himself. Reke facepalmed, but Phyllis seemed satisfied by the human’s unorthodox methods. “Now, it is quite clear that you are lost,” she said clapping her hands assertively. “Is it really that obvious?” Nona responded sheepishly. “In the City, even the beggars would not be caught in those pants, dear,” Phyllis said contemptuously, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she spun, leading Nona deeper into her shop. He gazed around the store, drinking in the sights. The tent was much more spacious on the inside than it looked, and every inch of it was covered in pants. Two orange lanterns drew the ceiling of the canvas down on two sections, casting a soft glow around the moody shop. There were pants of all sorts, silks and leathers, linens and sheepskins, some even had a metallic sheen. Phyllis guided them through the maze of racks towards the back: the lounge area with cushions and couches, and where another green girl in a long-sleeved jerkin and headscarf waited patiently behind the counter. “Selene, my tools,” Phyllis called out airily, waving a hand at the girl. She quickly rummaged around for a measuring rope and yardstick, then placed them both in her hand. She immediately began taking his measurements, scurrying around his waist biting on her bottom lip I precise concentration. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s wrong with my pants?” Nona mentioned. “What’s wrong with your pants? What’s wrong with your pants?” she scoffed, without breaking from her measurement-taking. “For starters, the seams are uneven, the hem is too high, and the material! Oh Haveh, the material is absolutely horrid!” she exclaimed, pinching the edge of his pants, and holding it out disdainfully. “They’re at least comfortable,” Nona muttered. Phyllis gave him a venomous glare. Then, composing herself by taking a deep breath, said, “Then you know nothing of comfort.” She finished taking her measurements, and began to scurry off, but Reke interrupted her: “Look, Phyllis, we appreciate the effort, but we don’t have time for this. We really need to get into the City before Nightpass.” Phyllis whipped around; brows furrowed at the human. “Who said that?” she demanded. Nona pointed at his shoulder, and the merchant leaned in for a closer look. Reke gave her a wave, and her eyes widened in disbelief, covering her mouth with a hand. She slumped down into a large satin cushion and began fanning herself with her hat. “Is something wrong, mistress?” the counter girl called out from the back. Phyllis was on the verge of tears. “Yes dear, something is very, very wrong. It’s our customer’s companion. He- he wears no pants! This is a travesty of the highest order! Keep our guests company while I work!” she cried, rushing off further into the tent almost as soon as she sat down. The counter girl rounded the corner, and stood before them, gazing at the human with her large, innocent blue eyes. “C’mon Nona, let’s go. It’s getting too late for this,” Reke said anxiously. “Oh, please don’t,” the girl implored, tugging on Nona’s sleeve, “It would break Phyllis’s heart.” Reke shook his head at Nona, but the human shrugged helplessly back at him. The lizlai let out another low groan, then curled up, sulkily resting his head on his arms. They stood there awkwardly, glancing around at the pants, occasionally picking up a word or two from Phyllis’s crude singing in the workshop of the tent. Finally, the girl, biting her lip, asked, “Hey, could you do me a favor? I work with pants, but my true passion lies with hair clips. You have such pretty hair, and I’d love to try some out on you.” With nothing else to do, Nona agreed. The girl beamed, gave him a quick hug, and sat him down on the couch. She grabbed an armful of hair clips from the counter, then brought them back, pulling Nona’s thick hair back behind his ears. She lightly fingered his round ears as she made different combinations with her clips. As she worked, she began asking him all sorts of questions about things he did not know about. Reke, who had decided that this was a convenient time to nap, was unable to come to the rescue. She asked him where he was from, which he didn’t know. She asked him what he was planning to do in the City, which he didn’t know either. She asked him if he knew anything other than his name, and, well, he didn’t know that either. Finally, she asked him: “When will Sunrise come again?” “Sorry?” Nona responded. “’When will Sunrise come again?’ You don’t know that poem about Old King Sunrsie? It’s quite popular throughout the Empire,” she explained. Before Nona could say anything more, Phyllis came bustling in, a plain white pair of woolen pants with a subtle textured design and a tiny pair of crimson red silk shorts, with extra wide legs. She complimented Selene’s work with Nona’s hair as she pushed the two travelers into dressing rooms. Eager to get out of there, they each changed quickly, with Reke standing upright on Nona’s shoulder to show a full view of his new pants. Nona’s new pants were perfect: an excellent balance of light, while still sturdy enough for travel. He hardly had to pull the drawstring, since the waist fit perfectly. Reke seemed indifferent to his new pants. Phyllis examined them, hand on hip, lips pursed, forefinger on cheek, thinking hard about the new addition to their ensemble. Nona shifted from foot to foot, nervous under Phyllis’s intense gaze. Reke hung his bored arm at his side, hoping for an end to this fashion horror. Selene folded her hands together, anxiously waiting for her master’s evaluation. Finally, Phyllis snapped her fingers and announced: “I am the best.” Relieved that it was finally over, Nona asked for a price. “Oh, nothing. Taking these horrid abominations is payment enough for me,” she said, holding out Nona’s old pants with disgust. Nona protested, the customer haggling for a higher price. Reke tried to persuade him to take the deal, but Nona would have none of it. They argued as he left the shop, finally getting Phyllis to take a few coins. The human had no idea what the currency was worth, but he was sure it was fair. When they stepped out, Nona glanced up at the Eastern sky. “See? We still have some time,” he said pointing to the swirling mass of Nightclouds. A moment later, the line of darkness passed over them, Nightclouds whooshing overhead. “You were saying?” Reke retorted. … Next Chapter: https://www.bungie.net/en/Forums/Post/260585663?sort=0&page=0 Previous Chapter: https://www.bungie.net/en/Forums/Post/260342332?sort=0&page=0