Chapter 3: Outskirts- Roy
"The outskirts were a place that those unbound by the shackles of humanity lived." That was the story preached by those who languished in the holy city of Rodina. It wasn't much of a lie as most propaganda went, the inhabitants of the outskirts certainly had a way of living lives in ways that disregarded anything that didn't concern their own survival. Life here was survival of fittest, and anything played.
But the people of the rocks didn't choose to live their lives this way. These were the abandoned, the forgotten, the unneeded. The lives and rights of these people weren't important to the majority, and so they were ignored.
When the majority of humanity moved to the fertile crescent, they left their stragglers behind. Eventually their city had become so large that it bordered the plains that had once been called the "Capital of the World" or New York. When the monsters attacked they had basically eradicated almost every other city in the world, and New York had been where humanities final stand against the Horror.
Eventually they left the dry, sandy soil of the city for the recovered lands of the twin rivers. To "protect" humanity they erected a wall so large that even those from the outskirts could see it. A constant reminder of a better life, to those who had forsaken it and the exile that they had chosen. For all their fancy words the wall was a barrier that prevented the residents of the rocks from the luxurious life that undoubtedly await them.
Honestly Roy couldn't care a single crumb about life outside the rocks. Half the stuff they were taught were stupid lies, Roy knew that. When Roy had first come into the rocks, he had watched people. Watched them lie, steal and cheat. Basically he stupidly wasted his time watching stupid people be stupid as his own body ate itself up.
At first when he watched the way kids did things on the street, the way they were stealing from each other, at each other's throats, in each other's pockets, selling every part of themselves that they could sell, he saw how things could be better if somebody had any brains, but he didn't trust his own insight. He was sure there must be something else that he just didn't get. He struggled to learn more -- of everything. To learn to read so he'd know what the signs said on trucks and stores and wagons and bins.
To learn enough English Common and enough Latin to understand everything that was said around him. It didn't help that hunger constantly distracted him. He probably could have found more to eat if he hadn't spent so much time studying the people. But finally he realized: He already understood it. He had understood it from the start. There was no secret that Roy just didn't get yet because he was only little. The reason all these kids handled everything so stupidly was because they were stupid.
And Roy knew that he was being stupid when he decided to follow the hooded stranger as he had clumsily made his way through the slum streets. Shoving back the drowned and passerby alike he made his way through the streets with a steady purpose. The man oozed danger from every pore, causing Roy's instincts to scream. Roy wasn't one to blindly follow his guts but there had been times when they'd saved his life before.
This guy was definitely not from the slums. He showed clear revulsion from the stench rotting food and bodies that emanated from nearly every nook and cranny of the rocks. A city dweller then. Most likely a rich one, with his pockets ripe for the taking.
Slinking around the alley corners and crowded street markets, he shadowed the man as he turned a corner, the edge of his tattered cloak fluttering just enough for Roy to make out the glint of a knife hidden in sheath hidden in his dusty black combat boots.
"Bingo" Roy grinned toothlessly, as he bit his nails deep enough that they bled. Roy knew of only a few clothing shops in the area and none of them sold boots with leather of that quality, or had custom made knife sheathes. Adding onto that had been a blue blade, likely mithril. Father Daniels had a cross made of the same alloy, a treasure of the church, which he rarely took out only during important moments.
Mithril was an incredibly rare metal that easily conducted mana, was easy to mold and was incredibly hard. And if the stories could be believed, mithril was an amazing conductor of mana. So much so that it was rumored to be alive. And mithril of such purity meant that this man was rich beyond means. That was no simple alloy. A blade of THAT quality was probably pure mithril. Which meant the man was probably rolling in the big bucks. Which meant if Roy played his cards just right, he could earn himself a ticket past the guards of the walls.
"Wait" Roy cautioned himself. No need to rush himself. Your only a predator right up till your prey, after all. His grin widened into a wolfish smile, his now visible brown and black teeth more cracked than the scorching pavement under his feet.
**
Sister Medea kept her eyes open all the time. She had to as a woman a cloth, but it never helped to be cautious in her line of work. As a servant of Elmira the Goddess of Healing, and one of the Order faction, she was taught to heal the wounds of other and give food to those without. But the outskirts had taught her that to maintain her job she had to be able to deal serious butt when duty called.
There were Wardens on watch as well, but it never helped to be extra careful. They had traitors in their midst before, and it wouldn't be a surprise to her if they still had some. The Holy Order was vast, its eyes immeasurable and its grip tight. And it was the same one she feared. Her eyes glancing at the clock, she briskly dusted her way through the pews of the now empty prayer hall and headed to the kitchen. They were supposed to feed the kids and the Gods be dammed, she was not about to be seen not doing her job. There were appearances to keep, even if it meant humoring the stinky kids of the streets.
Finding her way in the symphony of pots and pans that Father Evans called a kitchen, she prepared the usual bowls of thin soup with hardtack to "gracefully" distribute to the needy.
"Snotty ungrateful kids. Wish we could be done with them." she grumbled to a chorus of muttered agreement from her sisters of the same faith. As her knives chopped up carrots with an savagery usually shown to ones worst enemy, she tried to keep her mind off her day to day problems.
"At least its not as bad as it used to be" she said at last with a wistful sigh. And it was. All because of some munchkin named Roy.
**
As Roy kept observing the man the more second thoughts appeared in his mind. For whatever reason every fiber of his body kept screaming at him that this man was dangerous. But Roy was not about to let a catch of such quality get away without a fight. As far as Roy could tell he was your run of the mill worshiper of Ardor or Altum who wanted to experience what true "freedom" was like.
But something about him, the way he held himself with pride, the strength he seemed to express with every movement, and his eyes that seemed to pierce into his very soul... it scared Roy.
"Is he one of those Divers Sister told us about?" Roy mumbled aloud. The Chosen of the Gods who did the impossible, and had the powers to fight monsters? "Impossible" Roy thought scoffing to himself. "Those moneybags would never lower themselves to walk amongst the poor and dying of the streets."
Or would they? Roy had a sinking feeling he knew why, and if trouble was brewing then he wanted him and his crew as far away as possible. But maybe just maybe he could make life better for himself and get out of this decaying hell.
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