‡Chapter One‡
MARTINA
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The air in the Marketplace were cold, carrying the scent of damp earth. The atmosphere were busy, desperate faces of residents and the irritable manner of traders, bartering to each other for resources. A scene that has tired up my eyes, even though it's not an entertaining scenario it at least lightens up this depressing mood.
I stood next to my cart, hands tucked in my pockets trying to keep myself warm in this frigid place. Albeit there are a thick crowd of people in front of me, having this tight space should provide warmth, nevertheless the stale recycled air gives a more chill in the spine. I wore layers of mycelium fabrics, however it fails to keep my skin warm from the icy feeling. Trading day always suck, but kneeling in the dirt all day is much worse. At least I get to see some faces rather than facing wilting crops.
"Are you still up for trade?" An old man approached, his gaze flickering in the resources that are carefully lined up inside my cart. My internal monologue was stirred as I looked in his hands, carrying to what seems like an old torch, he held it like some sort of treasure. He doesn't look sane.
Trading does not need currency or any gilded golds to get what you want. Survival runs through bartering, offering something practical to get what you need. Golds are nothing but a decorative trinket. If it's weighed against the necessities of life, it holds no value.
"Yes, I am. And what do you have to trade for my resources?." I asked although knowing the answer.
"Three of those for this beauty." He said, raising the worn torch in his hand, my lips pressed into a thin line, I was at least expecting he would trade that garbage for one worn blanket, he's braver than I thought. I smiled, though my patience are getting thinner than a line.
"A torch that won't even last a night, for a three sacks of potatoes that you can consume for a whole week, don't you think it seems a little bit off." I said, as I reached for the folded blanket, at the back of my cart.
"Take it or leave." I snarled as I reach my hand to the old hag, fabrics are the most common necessities here, if you don't want to freeze to death hugging a torch then getting a blanket is a good choice. The man snorted and leaned closer.
"This one burns longer, a blacksmith in the mining section modified this with high quality coals." He proposed. My eyebrows raised, unimpressed from what he said. A blacksmith? Did he steal that. Well, modified or not I've got tons of torch in my house, I can even make one if I wanted to.
"Hey, old hag, you better take what she offers, you can't fool anyone with that." A voice joined the discussion, I looked at beside me and saw another trader, Al-Amir to be exact. He wore a black turban in his head, and a long black robe that flows down to his feet. He wore an elegant attire, not surprising knowing he came from the palace.
"But.."
The man didn't get to finish his sentence as I snatched the rubbish in his hands, and placed the tattered blanket in it.
"Deal sealed, now get out of my sight." I spat as I harshly put down the torch in the side of my cart, he's tiring my patience, I doubt if this conversation goes on longer I wouldn't be able to contain my cool.
The old man left with a slumped posture, I watched his back vanished into the crowd. Now, I feel bad, he looks pitiful but I'm not some kind of God to help. Life's harsh down here. I cant afford to soften my heart or I'll end up being the one to starve.
"The government offers them work yet they choose to just pleasure themselves by doing nothing, and now they torment us by giving scraps to trade, bunch of incompetent fools." Al-Amir said, he exhaled—hands resting at the back of his nape, his elbows stretched wide. He's relaxed being settled in his chair. The crowds were thinning as the marketplace grew quieter. The faces of the traders who remained caught my eyes–tired, and defeated. Even if they got tons of resources, it still meaningless if no one wants what they offer.
"The only work that the government has offered are mining, who else would want to work in that kind of environment. Digging full time only to find rocks, they don't even get paid by the higher ups." I said as I sat down beside my cart, to think about it I'm actually lucky to be born as a farmer, all I got to do are tend to dying potatoes, trade resources and repeat the same process all over again. Unlike those who live in the residential areas, they get to taste the same routine—dig and dig until they find something valuable to trade. I can't just criticize them since I don't wear the shoes they wore. We all live in a life of monotony, it's not like we could do something about it.
My head panned upward, eyes scanning the jagged stalactites hanging above the ceiling, its so high above it looked small in the naked eyes, it's sharp, pointed formation can crush a skull if it decided to head down. This ceiling had been our sky for as long as anyone can remember.
"I wonder what's above." I whispered. If I were above, and looked up…. What would I see.
I can't even image. The books I've read talked about the Sun, this brilliant light that warmed everything it touch, that if you dare stare at it you'd blind your eyes. They said it floated in the vast space of blue during day, and during night, blue turns black–sprinkled with tiny lights called stars. It sounded magical, like a fiction written by authors with immense imagination.
*DONG! *DONG!
A low resonated chime echoed in the distance, each note reverberating through the air. The bell tower stood tall afar, it's bronze surface shimmering in the naked eyes. It was the city's sun, marking the passing of time underground. Two rings meant night had fallen.
"Well, it's time to head back to my humble shaft." Al-Amir said as he packed his things on a large bag, well he's a government trader, they probably gave him a place to stay here while he tends to people's needs.
"Not heading home?" He asked, I shrugged my shoulder as I stretch my arms until a satisfying crack echoed behindi my back. Well, unlike him I'm a traveling trader, I can't stay in the same place or the people out there will starve to death, I at least need to do something since no one will.
"No, I'm still early for tomorrow. The residents at the other side is probably waiting for me." I said, as I pull myself up, gripping the side of my cart for support. I'm about to drag this old thing again–thirteen kilometers walk in uneven ground–splashing puddles like a child playing in mud.
"Well then have a nice trip down town, and don't get into trouble with the guards." Al-Amir said, his voice taunting.
I responded with wry smile, watching his back vanished in the distance. Well, time to move before the bell rings again.
***
I walked along the dimly lit path, my cart rattling and screeching with every step I take. It's heavy, with worn wheels barely holding and the weight of everything I carried–scraps and food to trade. The faint, flickering glow of torches lined in every houses I pass, casting jagged shadows that stretched in the earthen walls. The air was damp, heavy with the smell of soil and the faint metallic tang that never left this place. There are only few people in the streets, everyone's probably in their homes, warming themselves in this icy environment.
It was usual, but something felt off.
I slowed my pace, my senses on edge. The screech of my cart's wheels echoed too loudly in the stillness, the sound grating against my nerves. As I rounded the corner, I saw them—soldiers, at least a dozen of them, clustered near the entrance to a dark, narrow corridor. Their torches burned brighter than usual, and their expressions were grim, shadows carving harsh lines into their faces.
I stopped in my tracks, gripping the handle of my cart tighter. Soldiers didn't gather like this for nothing.
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