– Hey, Eunostos.
– Yes, my dear Ibsen?
– Don't call me that again.
– Of course, dear Ibsen.
– I was wondering which food should I try first. You know, first time in the city and stuff… it's something special.
– You're going to a pub, right?
– Not into the pub, but it will be nearby. Though, I don't want to go inside.
– Oh, don't be so lame! It's your first time in this city, you should try out an urban special!
– Those exist?
– Indeed! Have you ever tasted chili vodka?
– No, but it sounds painful.
– "Pertsivka". It's usually brewed with honey. It is said to have a plant-like flavor with a slight pungent aftertaste. Unfortunately, I haven't had the chance to try it. Maybe today that changes.
– I recommend looking elsewhere.
– Why?
– You said the Purgatory wasn't such a big deal. I don't think it's available there. Yes, I'm sure. Visiting Purgatory would just be a waste of your time.
– I see… am I bothering you?
– Look – he turned to his guide –, you're fine, just please don't be follow me until the very end! I did not see my relatives in a really long time and trust me, it will be pretty emotional. You understand? There's going to be crying and stuff. Very bad stuff. Nothing like what you did before. Much worse.
– If that's what you want, I'll accompany you on the cableway and then disappear forever.
– Hey, that's not what I meant! – Ibsen changed his tone and smiled at the taller man. – I'm sure you're a good lad! Even now, you're trying to help a stranger you never met, without asking for anything in return! Most people would never do that! If you want to, we can meet later, just search for me around the bar! A friend or two never hurts, especially in a city you're completely new to.
– Yeah… of course.
– Hey, where did all that enthusiasm go?
– Can we change subject?
– Sure thing! What's your hobby?
– Hobby? Well… I don't have much time for hobbies. You know what life is like for a slave of cartography.
As they turned to a side road, things got less crowded and the wide road grew steeper. Pastel colored houses towered into the skies, that consisted of two parts: ground floor shops and upstairs apartments. Ibsen found them pretty, but also scary at the same time. A fall from the top of these buildings wouldn't make him feel good. Or as a matter of fact, alive.
– Biology. Human anatomy, to be more precise.
– So you do have a hobby!
– Yes. – he kept his eyes on the road.
– And what's so interesting about anatomy? Whose body are you studying?
– I like humans. When I was a child and went to school, I sometimes had the chance to dissect smaller animals. That was fun. My biology teacher promised me, when he dies, I can dissect him too.
He looked at Ibsen with a calm smile. Ibsen looked at him with huge eyes.
– Was that too much?
– No! I'm happy you found happiness in something I find so strange. You should become a doctor! You could cut open people and save lives. That's like two things you enjoy, combined! – his smile was genuine, which made Eunostos feel that much worse.
– Oh, you're so naive.
– Thank you! Do you want to know my hobby?
– No, thanks.
An awkward silence followed. Awkward, at least for Ibsen. They walked like that for a short time, then Ibsen's hungry stomach broke the status quo, growling, as if an army of frogs hid fought inside.
– Just ignore it, my dear Ibsen, we're almost at the cableway!
– Are you sure we can't stop by a store? After all, look – he pointed at the small shops, built into the ground floor of the big houses –, we can be choosey with where we buy our food!
– Calm down and eyes on the road! – he kept on walking, hands in his pockets. Soon he realized that Ibsen's footsteps couldn't be heard. Turning around, he saw the boy looking at a menu of dry noodles. – Ibsen?
– Yes?
– Come!
– Nope. You're nothing without me.
– Excuse me?
– If I don't follow you, you're worthless. That is how it works. You can't be a tour guide without tourists, can you? – his sassy smile made Eunostos red from anger, then blue from fright, as Ibsen entered one of the restaurants.
– Wait! Stop! You won! We're buying food, just not here.
– Nah, sorry. I don't want to walk anymore. I can eat without you.
– YOU DON'T HAVE CASH!
– Oh. You're right.
After a small detour, they found themselves in a park. The vegetation was well cared for. Cheerful bees played their diligent songs above sweet spring flowers.
– There's a very expensive and sophisticated restaurant nearby, I think you'll love it!
– But Eunostos, those fussy places are really expensive!
– Yes, but this is your first time in the capital! It's a special occasion! Take this as urban hospitality!
– Wow, thank you! You're really…
He took him to a completely average bakery. There was nothing special on the shelves just cheap, dry crescent rolls and bread. It was a rather cramped place, with flour covering most of the ground.
– No need to thank me, dear Ibsen! Country-folks should try the urban goods at least once! And this is the best you can get, my friend! Tell me, how can one live a life without such delicacies?
– It's… average bread. – he held up one of them and gently smashed it to the wall, which left the bread unharmed and wall cracked. – I'm scared.
– Average? Is this average to you? Ibsen, these breads were made by the best baker in town! I think. I bet he works alone. Never looked behind the cash-register.
– I shouldn't be so fussy… anyways, who knows how many more years I'll live here. Better get used to cheap food.
– Live? Didn't you say you were coming to meet your relatives?
Ibsen's hand froze, holding a crescent. He turned away from Eunostos and only said:
– It's a long story. I'll tell it later.
After collecting three salty crescent rolls, he stopped in front of the cash register. The cashier was nowhere to be found. White steam was fuming from the backroom.
– Hey, Ibsen, don't you want to wait outside?
– What, why?
– Why not? It's really hot in here, you might pass out!
– No thanks, I'll stay.
– Whatever... while we're waiting, could you explain where are you actually going?
– To the Purgatory.
– And why exactly?
– It's none of your business.
– Is it possible, that you don't have living relatives in the city?
– And what if I don't?
He's sudden raise of voice startled Eunostos. A hairy baker looked out from the other room, covered in flour. His eyes showed surprise at the sudden yelling. Ibsen immediately regretted his action and in a much calmer tone turned to his companion.
– Excuse me, I'll wait outside.
The bakery's front door opened to a small cobblestone road. On its other side, the park's happy little trees shielded a cute little pond. Ducks were swimming in its blueish water. It was quite a calming sight. One, that Ibsen needed.
Behind the bakery stood a church. Some god's, that Ibsen didn't recognize. Its tower held up a huge clock. Ibsen was too short to see it, so he did what every intelligent man would do in that situation and started jumping left and right like an absolute madman.
He wasn't having fun.
While he was occupied with the time, the redhead girl, who was following them, appeared from the corner of the street. Ibsen did not notice her, as she began to sprint towards him. She was approaching fast. As she got closer and closer, she ran faster and faster. Reaching into her pocket, she was preparing something. The woman was already within an arm's reach when Ibsen suddenly jumped away and both of them fell on the ground. The boy dropped his side bag, spreading its contents across the cobblestone road.
– Ouch! Are you okay? – he turned to the read-head girl. – I didn't see you, please forgive me.
She watched in horror as Ibsen stood up and held out a helping hand.
– Come! You don't want to catch a cold, do you?
Leaning on his knee, he left his chest unprotected. Taking advantage of this, the girl reached into her pocket, grabbed something and stabbed it into the boy's chest. Ibsen gasped. He felt it and saw it, yet couldn't comprehend what was touching him. The girl, sensing the weight of her actions, fell into even greater despair.
The item she poked the boy with was a blue, dolphin-patterned panty.
– Why are you giving me this? Is this some kind of city tradition?
– No! – rashly, she poked Ibsen in the chest again.
– Oh, so it's… something personal? Do you think I look pretty? – he blushed, raising his hands to hide his cheeks. – You pervert! At least invite me on a date first! Though, it's not like I won't give you a chance because of this.
His innocent smile made him look way younger.
– I think you're also really pretty!
The colors of malaise cast a shadow over the girl's face. She stood up and ran away as fast as she could, leaving Ibsen with lots questions and a blue panty. He watched idly as she disappeared around the corner. Once again, he was left alone with his thoughts and an old dwarf, who, when he turned around, was looking at one of his silver thalers. He wore a white shirt with brown suspenders.
– Excuse me, young man. – his voice was weak and ladylike. – Are these original northern thalers?
– Oh, hello random old man! Yes, those were made up north, just like every silver thaler.
He dropped to the ground and he began to gather his scattered belongings.
– How much cash have you spent in this city?
– Not any, as of yet. I arrived this morning and silver is not accepted anywhere.
– Interesting. Are you alone?
– You're asking some pretty strange questions, old man... but you don't look dangerous, so I might as well tell you. No, I'm not alone. A kind map vendor is working as my tour guide.
– Is he your friend?
– We met this morning.
– Son, silver thalers are accepted everywhere. They are worth ten gold coins, each. Whoever is your friend, he lied to you.
This made him raise his head. He was acting kind with the old man, because he thought the dwarf was just a bored senile, enjoying the small-talk. But there was more to it.
Dwarfs are not known for lying. When they do, it's really obvious. And the old man's tiny eyes showed no malice or ill-intent. He told the truth.
– Wait… are you sure?
– I've been living in this city for well over a century now. I'm a shoemaker. My shop is not far away. People come to me with the rarest kinds of money and I have to accept them, even if I don't want to. The law says so. Not accepting foreign currencies can get me into serious trouble. We're talking about jail.
– This is bad… – Ibsen panicked, as he looked at the tiny bakery's door.
He had his doubts about Eunostos before. His blue jacket was ironed out and his way of speaking was too classy. The way he walked, the way he looked at him… it all made him look like a noble, trying to fit in as an average man.
But now that his doubts became reality, he was completely lost. Why would a noble play the role of a map vendor and help out a villager he has never seen before? Is it possible, that he's just a really sophisticated middle-class man? Or is he a runaway?
His hands were shaking.
– Why are you acting so scared, little boy?
– Why am I actin' scared? Why do you think I'm actin' scared? – he raised his voice again, but realized they might hear him in the bakery, so quickly changed to whispering. – I told this guy where I'm goin' and now I can't even run away! We're talking about a real sporty dude. He can easily catch up to me if I start running now! I'd get the shit beaten' out of me! You understand now, old man?
– Is that not why you're carrying a weapon?
– Weapon? What weapon? Is this gonna' be some kinda' ancient dwarfish wisdom? Or perhaps a dirty joke? Because I'm in the mood for neither of them!
– I'm talking about your blade. – he pointed to the left of the boy.
– Oh yeah, my blade! You can come and suck my…
As he looked to his left, he noticed something wooden lying beside him. It was the same size as his forearm. The texture of the wooden box was smooth, clearly made out of quality lumber. There was a small, black line at the object's lower end. When Ibsen pulled both ends in different directions and the item came apart, revealing the weapon it hid.
Ibsen was holding the scabbard of a blade, which was too big to be called a knife, but too small to qualify as a sword. It was majestic, refined like a beautiful oil painting. The blade was forged out of clean steel, sharp enough to almost cut the air. Below, the grip was weaved around with a black and yellow material, that was comfortable and easy hold onto.
– The weapon you're holding in your hand is a tanto. It's a weapon rich women use for self-defense. It's worth a lot. Did you steal it?
– No, but rich gals? I'm not rich! And I don't know any girls here, besides…
He froze down. Slowly, he turned away from the dwarf and looked at the corner of the street, where the girl she bumped into disappeared. It was hers. She wasn't trying to give him panties. She was trying to stab him.
Raising his hand to his chest, he was on the verge of tears. His entire body was shaking.
– Did someone try to attack you?
– Yeah. – his tears began to flow.
– Hey, don't cry now! They won't hurt you anymore. They cannot hurt you anymore.
– What do you mean?
– The tanto is yours now. You can defend yourself with that.
Ibsen, still holding the weapon in his hand, looked him in the eyes. The dwarf was indifferent about the boy.
– But… this weapon… it kills people!
– Exactly! If anyone tries to hurt you, you just stab them in the chest. Trust me, they will think twice before picking on you again! – he stepped closer to the boy, grabbing his shoulder.
– Are you crazy?! – he yelled at him, pushing his hand away, then once again lowering his voice so Eunostos won't hear. – This thing kills people! The last thing I want to do is murder someone! Do you know how painful it is to die?
– Of course I don't! – the dwarf chuckled. – But it's either them or you.
Ibsen fell silent, looking at the blurry ground. The dwarf, confused by the boy's sadness, crouched down on his right.
– Don't you want to defend yourself?
– No, that's not it! I just... is there really no other way about this? Can you act like I'm your long lost nephew or somethin'? We could just walk away!
– Of course not! Don't try to mix me into this. It's your problem, not mine!
– Yea, wasn't waitin' for much from a dwarf.
– Excuse me?
– Do you want my thalers? You can take them each for five gold.
– You offend my kind, then try to sell me your dirty belongings? By the forge!
– You can always just fuck off. – he gave a calm smile to the angry dwarf.
Shortly after an exchange of coins, the dwarf was just about to walk away, before stopping and turning back. Ibsen was standing there, wiping away his tears, trying to calm down for when Eunostos exists the bakery. The tanto was still laying on the ground, right next to the boy, packed inside it's scabbard.
– You know – said the dwarf –, they say it's okay to be scared. But sometimes, being scared can be a really selfish trait.
– Huh? What do you mean?
– Do you have anyone you love?
– My mother, my two siblings, my grandmother…
The dwarf came one step closer to the boy.
– Some really sick people live in this city. It's common knowledge, that some prey on newcomers for quick cash or just for fun. Lately, more and more people started to scam foreigners and it fast became what the youngsters call "cool" these days. It's rumored, that there's a secret competition about who scams more people. The monsters that partake in this race don't care about who they're scamming. It's just a game to them. And they play it with young or old, strong or weak, rich and poor. The next time you're scared to defend yourself, think about the ones you love. People will try to hurt them and the only you can defend them. Take responsibility. – and so he began to walk away, before saying his final thoughts. – You have a nice accent, boy.
Wear it proud.
– Is everything okay, my dearest Ibsen? – Eunostos stepped out of the bakery.
– Some really weird stuff happened, while you were in there.
– Please tell me all of them, dear Ibsen! Oh, wait, before that: can you speak and walk at the same time? I still have things to do.
– Um… sure!
– Then come! Let's end our journey!
Brooms, winged whales and iron machines flew above. Given the huge population of Faevarus, the streets were always crowded. Those with the ability took to the skies, using the free space for travel, or in rare case, housing. White castles of flying islands peaked above the clouds. Only a true elite can afford such home. Not only is it expensive to build beautiful castles, but finding the right mages for enchanting the ground is also something so hard and pricey to do, that common-folks, like Ibsen, could not imagine the massive amounts of gold it requires.
– Do you like those castles?
– Yeah, they're pretty. – Ibsen answered, while chewing on his food.
– Bet you'd like the view from up there!
– I don't know… I'm a scaredy-cat and I have a fear of heights.
– Then don't look out the window when we're on the cableway!
– Yeah, about that… are you sure there's no other way to the bar?
– Ah, don't be like that, my dearest Ibsen! Why waste our time on a four hours long walk, when we can easily get there with a cable-ride?
At the end of the road stood the entrance of an elephant-sized tunnel, carved into the mountain's wall. Its long corridors were illuminated by yellow lights and its walls were dank. A black mix of trash and rain covered most of the ground.
– Everything's so dirty! Is the actual thing anything like this?
– No, my friend! It the most elegant transportation method in the entire capital!
– Yeah, the same quality as that bakery from before, right?
Soon, they walked into a big, windy room, with one side being open for the cableway's cabins. A huge clock hanged from one of the walls. It had a smaller clock inside of it, showing when the next cabin will appear. Ibsen was surprised at the room's emptiness.
– Hey, Eunostos, isn't this the only mean of transportation between this part of the city and the others?
– It sure is!
– Then why are we all alone?
– We got lucky, my dearest friend! What a wonderful day! I've never gotten this lucky before. Usually, I have to wait for hours just to get from this part of the city to the other.
– Oh, okay…
A canyon laid deep beneath the cableway. It was surrounded by hills in a "U" shape. Small houses stood below, tightly placed next to one another.
– People live down there?
– Of course! The houses are really cheap in this part of the city, mainly due to how dangerous this whole area is. You can find the capital's dirtiest and cheapest down there.
– I feel bad for the people living down there.
– You shouldn't. Most people can't afford normal housing and have to rent an apartment. Now, my dearest Ibsen, an apartment with two rooms costs half of an average worker's salary. You pay most of your cash just to have two rooms, where you can go home to and not even relax in, because the walls are thin and the neighbors are so loud. Yes, you might live fine all alone in a place like that, but think about the single parents with children! They can barely survive in a place like that!
– So you're saying I shouldn't feel bad for these people, because they have children?
– You shouldn't feel bad for anyone. That won't help them. But actions will. – he fell silent. – Sacrifices, to be more precise.
The clock beeped loudly as a yellow cabin arrived. It had doors on its front and back. Inside the cabin, there were six seats on each side, with huge windows behind them. Ibsen went up to the farthest chair and with a loud puff, sat down. Eunostos calmly followed, choosing the place in front of his friend. Another figure rushed into the cabin, sitting far away from both of them. That person was hiding under an old, dirty cape, so her face couldn't be made out.
After the loud beeping stopped, the cabin's door closed with a powerful smash and their long ride began.
– So, Ibsen, your destination is the Purgatory bar, correct?
– Yup.
– The Purgatory bar, that closed decades ago.
– Oh, I didn't know that. Damn, and I was just getting in the mood for something alcoholic…
– The owner died 50 years ago, due to unknown circumstances.
– That's cute.
– That bar is nothing, but a worthless reminder of the past. A memorial site for chicken-shit alcoholics.
– Well… okay.
– What is your objective at that place?
– My objective? Family business. My city relatives want to… – Eunostos stopped him with a loud stomp on the cabin's floor.
– Bullshit! I know you're lying! You have the look… no, you have the stench of a liar! Just looking at the way you speak, the way you move, how your body reacts to its surroundings, I can say with the utmost certainty, you're not telling me the truth!
– You've been looking at my body?
– Yes! Every second since we met!
– Oh, my! – Ibsen covered his cheeks. – At least take me on a date first!
– Drop your act already, fuck-face!
– Is that dirty talk I'm hearing? Eunostos, you're such a naughty…
But before he could finish his sentence, Eunostos pulled a small gun from his pocket and shot him. He hit his knee. The pain flashed through Ibsen's body like electricity, rendering him mute for a second. Then, just as he reached to the wound and began to scream, the pain went away. He felt nothing. No pain, no bleeding.
Unable to fully comprehend what just happened, he froze down.
– Look under your pants! – Eunostos sat back in his seat.
Ibsen slowly pulled up the clothes on his leg. Surprisingly, his knee was unharmed.
– Now – Eunostos spun the gun on his trigger-finger –, I really don't want to cause you any harm, but if you won't cooperate, I'm not scared to shoot you again. But next time, I won't heal your wound.
– What… did you shoot me?
– As you witnessed, yes. I know you don't have these weapons up in the mountains, so let me explain you what this is. – he lowered his weapon. – This is a pistol. It shoots out bullets. They penetrate your body and hurt you. If you don't behave well, I'll shoot you, but just enough so you won't die, but still suffer.
– How did you cure my wound so fast?
– That's not important at the moment. Tell me, what is your true goal? Why are you visiting Purgatory? You're a northerner. Your kind hardly knows anything about this city and Purgatory is not relevant these days. I know you're hiding something.
– Like you're one to talk! Disguising yourself as a map vendor, just so you can earn the trust of newcomers and then rob them!
He wasn't holding back anymore. Raising his voice, he confidently spoke up against Eunostos.
– You're a sick fuck! You talk about how we need to help the weak and how our actions matter more than our words… if that's true, then you're worthless! Your actions contradict your words! You have no worth in this world!
– Don't talk to him like that! – a female voice yelled at him.
It was the girl from before. She threw away her brown cape, revealing her orange, wrath-filled eyes. They scared Ibsen at first, but then he realized the girl was biting her lips in excitement. She was lost in a mix of emotions.
– What the hell...
And as he was looking at the girl, another loud bang could be heard and Ibsen screamed, as he felt an excruciating pain, coming from his left leg. Eunostos shot him again.
He fell forward on his thighs. He tried to touch the wound to somehow ease the unbelievable pain he was feeling, but instead hugged his leg and began to cry.
Eunostos stood above, trying to force himself to smile. Yet, he couldn't. His eyes showed a bitter anger.
– Yes, master, yes! Shoot him again! Kill, kill, kill! Murder the boy!
– Hilda, could you cease your annoying screech? You're way louder than him!
– I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, master! I just can't take it! I can't take it any longer! Please, please, please! Do me too!
Ibsen was lost in pain. He tried to scream for help, but the pain was too much. He couldn't speak, just scream like a dying animal.
Then, he heard another loud bang.
This time, he wasn't the one to get shot. He wiped away his tears and looked up, just to see Eunostos stand in front of the girl, who was exposing her chest for the boy. Blood was gushing from just between her breasts.
– Yes! Yes! Yes! Again! Shoot me! Kill me!
He shot the girl again. And then again. And once again. And many more times. He was still pulling the trigger on her, as she fell to the ground, into her own blood. She was screaming and laughing at the same time. She enjoyed it. And then her enjoyment stopped. She fell silent. She died with a smile on her face.
Eunostos turned to Ibsen once more. His face was emotionless, his eyes had no flame in them. Looming above the girl's dead body he slowly, without a sound, approached Ibsen.
At that point, Ibsen stopped screaming. Not because the pain went away, but because an emotion much stronger rose up. His eyes were filled with dread. His hands were shaking. He tried to speak, but no words would come out of his mouth.
Yet, beneath all, a different emotion began to manifest.