The rest of his journey remained eventless, but the situation would repeat once he exited the tram. Ewan sighed. Did the stacking coincidences force the current circumstances? Or did he make a mistake somewhere? Was going to that Frosthelm festival a wrong move? He rubbed his forehead. In retrospect, it was. And saving that woman there worsened it. But he didn't regret anything. Saving the woman slapped him a reality check, and going to the Frosthelm festival showed him the actual situation of the colony. If not, he wouldn't consider leaving this place. Nonetheless, the moniker of 'madman' irritated him. Why did they have to call him mental?
"I really don't like these people." He sighed once more.
…..
[Slate]
The stubborn afterglow of the setting sun painted the view beyond the glass walls in an orange-red hue. The colony shimmered under the soft dusk. But the breathtaking view halted before the suffocating ambience inside and stayed away.
"It's sour, get me another one," Thea said, throwing the juice glass across the room. It shattered against the wall and burst into shards, orange juice splattering everywhere, drenching the new carpet.
"Right away, ma'am," Slate said, wiping the drops of juice off his face with his handkerchief.
"Continue," she said, leaning back on her new chair that behaved in silence unlike the last annoying one.
"Obria has been sealed, ma'am," Slate said, ordering another glass of juice with some natural sweeteners this time from the intercom. "We can't send anyone in, and no one has come out either. The last news we received about him was yesterday's report. They've framed him as the culprit behind the blood festival and the news has outed him to the public."
"Framed?" Thea scoffed. "He's that bastard's son, he's very much capable of doing that."
"Of course." Slate bowed his head.
"How is he? Was he hurt?" she said, swiveling her chair towards the enforced glass wall, gripping the armrests hard. Her nails dug into the leather.
"He dealt with the problem, nothing happened to him."
"Hmph, it would've been better if something did," she said, her grips loosened.
"Of course, ma'am."
"What's happening with Obria? Can he get out?" she asked.
"Its management problems seem to have festered to their limits. The colony cannot sustain anymore, it's going to be auctioned off soon. I'm afraid he can't get out that easily."
"Auctioned?" Thea sniggered. "It was his favorite place. I hope the new owner burns it to the ground."
"I hope so too, ma'am."
"And hurt my child? Who do you think you are?" Thea said, swiveling back around and glaring at Slate.
"My apologies." Slate bowed forty-five degrees. "I was being insolent," he said calmly but cursed Dr. Lumen in his mind. "By the way, ma'am, your nephews and nieces are here." He changed the topic.
Thea frowned. "What do they want now?"
"Their business suffered losses; they want you to sponsor them again."
"All of them?"
"Mr. Des…..the bald one is here for his grandson, he's turning eighteen soon and isn't happy with what the school's giving," Slate said.
"Bloodsucking self-entitled leeches every single one of them," she said. "Just give them what they want, I don't have time to meet them." She took out her knitting tools attached to the snaking long white muffler from the drawer and knitted. "See if you can contact anyone inside Obria, make sure he's safe. Go there yourself if needed. You can leave now."
"Yes, ma'am," Slate said and bowed out.
...
[Ewan]
The walls stretched higher and higher as the tram wheeled in. Ewan craned his neck out the window to look at the clouded top. Anxiety and excitement with bouts of nervousness cuffed him in waves. Though this was just in preparation for the eventual departure, the prospect of his new journey took him on a rollercoaster of emotions, his heart just couldn't settle down.
"Adventure shall await," he murmured, getting a bit red in the ears. He looked around to check whether anyone heard him—no one did luckily, or at least no one cared.
The tram stopped at the final station with a jerking brake that screamed a deathly squeak. Beyond this only his legs could take him.
The quality of life plunged near the wall in comparison to the central areas of the colony. Rundown inns, boisterous taverns, and raucous stall market became the norm. Hunters made up the numbers here, general citizens had no business in this place.
Ewan stepped off the tram and breathed in a lungful of stale air, his lips twitched. Alcohol, sweat, piss, what else contributed to this foul stench? Disadvantages of merging his soul with Toast showed up in places like these, his sharpened sense of smell became a headache. He could block it off with Ryvia, but an unknown place called for some prudence and subtlety. Even if the hunters here were Kyrons, he couldn't underestimate them, let alone if they were Ashevas. So, he tolerated the torture of his nose and treaded through the rowdy market, minding his steps on the fresh dog shit. He was here to exchange his Sols and to obtain information on how to get out, hence, the tavern became his target.
The muffled garbled noise blared up the closer he walked to the nearest tavern's dilapidated door, and so did the stink. Ewan bore the torment and strode in. The situation inside couldn't be any more like the clichés he'd read about. Groups sitting together around tables, playing games, guzzling from the huge pitchers, making a racket.
Ewan sat on an empty stool by the counter, away from the crowd. "Do you trade?" he asked the middle-aged barkeep who was tinkering with a mix of alcohol.
"What do you need?" the barkeep asked, putting his tools aside.
"Crelith coins for Sols."
"How much?"
"How much can you exchange?" Ewan asked.
"You're new here? You smell of milk, hah!" A bearded patron a couple of stools away laughed, half-sprawled on the counter, looking at Ewan with an empty pitcher in his hand. His eyes drooped, and his breath stank from afar. "Shouldn't you be in school right now, kid?"
"It's holiday today," Ewan said, taking out his phone. "So?" he asked the barkeep.
"Brothers, you heard that? It's holiday today, drinks on the house!!" the patron hollered and the whole bar cheered with him.
"Just tell me the number," the barkeep said, clutching the patron's messy hair and bashing his head against the counter. One bash made him dizzy, the glasses rattled. The second one knocked him out cold, and the bar hushed down.
Ewan glanced at the lump on the patron's forehead and passed his phone to the barkeep, his account displayed on the screen. "All of it," he said.
The barkeep took one look and nodded. "Wait here, I'll have someone fetch it. Order something in the meanwhile if you want, first one'll be on the house."
-----------------------------------------------------XXXX-----------------------------------------------------
Status: Healthy
Step-0 [3rd Awakening]
Name: Ewan Ayres
Species: Human
Vitality: 1.4
Spirit: 6.2
Anima: [Fire – 6.2 | Ice – 6.2 | Blood – 6.2]
Astylinds: 4 [Potential: 0]
:Rolling Cat [Toast]: Step-0 [3rd Awakening]
:Fire Monkey [Orange]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]
:Imp [Frost]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]
:Blood Lotus [Iris]: Step-0 [Level-3] [Grade-C]
Equipment: Common Clothes.
Storage: Journal; Elementalist—The Path of Anima [Subtype-Book]; Spellbook; Bloodlust [Spell]; Transmute [Spell]; Anima-Crystals; Obsidian Dagger; Hub-Connector; Ingredients.
Novas: 290
Sol: 4987