Chapter Fourteen

The horses galloped fast. Everything was back in motion as it needed to be and The Red Flux thieves would be arriving at Italina in due time. From there, it would be about finding passage beyond the gates and doing what else needed to be done.

Granted, Secrat didn’t know necessarily what needed to be done. That fact brought an uneasiness to him. It brought him a feeling of angst that he had to smash down to the bottom of his stomach with the help of sips from his flask. He leaned his back against the side of the wooden wagon as it rocked back in forth, his own mind rocking back in forth with how things needed to play out and how he would approach any situation that arose.

The Thief had doubts any of them knew what to expect. It seemed as though none of them could offer much insight about the Aer Festival as none of them had ever been to one. In fact, as worried as Secrat felt, he was the one with the closest firsthand experience to the Festival. Even the meaning behind its name was cryptic and obscure in nature for him. He hadn’t even the faintest of guesses for what it meant.

The Aer Festival was meant to celebrate Maharris’ triumphs and successes. Italina deemed itself the capital of the entire region and even had an entire museum dedicated to Maharris. They invited men and women from the four other cities to join them. That was about all Secrat knew about the event. He didn’t even know whether or not Italina’s invitations were ever accepted.

Samuel Syi was once more at the reins and everybody found sanctum in their designated seats, assorted the same as the last time. Lukas Lewis did, however, seem more rested than usual. In fact, Lukas looked at ease and like the weight of the world had been taken off of his shoulders. That was how he looked at first glance, but Secrat didn’t take any glances more than that, and for all he knew, it could have been his own suspicions creating a mirage for themselves.

The sun’s rays were becoming fainter and fainter after a full day’s worth of travel.Beads of sweat no longer accumulated as fast on Secrat’s brow. That was what happened when they neared Italina. It became cold, even in the summertime, whereas Acera was hot, even during most of winter. The countless bodies roaming throughout the Aer Festival would likely offer a form of restitution from the cold with their body heat.

“I remember the first time I met Toucan,” Brutus said, looking over to Secrat, “This was before The Red Flux even existed.”

Copé looked over to Brutus, giving him his attention, but found his eyes taken again by the scenery around them. The trees as they closed in on Italina were all either dead or dying, with some of them only a little thicker than the average stick. In some instances, branches hung down from the trees from high up only to limply dig into the dirt. In the times when the branches did seem thick, Samuel would navigate the horses around them, but, for most times, he would simply let the horses hooves snap through them.

“What you must know about Toucan is, he was always that intimidating of a figure. Nobody ever picked a fight with him. No one ever. It was plain and simple that you didn’t do it. And doing so was easy enough. I mean, Toucan kept to himself. He was quiet and distant. He was a little like Marc over there,” Brutus said, looking over to Marc Sero at the end of the wagon, who was not listening to Brutus’ banter. “I once picked a fight with him though, back in Jalint.”

Secray’s eyes wandered over to Brutus’, curious with about what he would stay next.

Brutus smiled, “He and I were botanists. That is what you did if you were from Jalint, you went underground, you dug, or you worked on the plants.”

Copé chuckled, “Underground?”

“That’s right,” Brutus answered back. “Jalint would grow plants underground. The would grow strange ones, kinds that didn’t need any sunlight. They were special black fruits that tasted like ash. Those were our fruit, the ones we ate. It was part of how we were paid.”

“I never knew that,” Secrat said. “Toucan never told me about this.”

“It wasn’t something a person exactly wanted to remember. The same as it was anywhere else you went, you have the ones who were rich and the ones who were poor. We ate ashes for breakfast and dinner, and the rich ones ate whatever their heart’s desire. Some of us were sick more often than not,” Brutus explained. “We grew other things down there as well, and moth cocoons let us make silk.”

He continued: “I remember there was one night though where I was angry and I was drunk, and what you need to know about me is that I do very stupid things when I am angry and I am drunk. One of those things was that I tried to pick a fight with him. Now, we weren’t friends back then or anything, we were nothing except casual acquaintances who would bump into each other from time to time. In other words, he didn’t take it easy on me. I don’t even know if he would take it easy on me now, to be honest.” Brutus laughed. “The funny thing is, I don’t even remember what I thought he did, but I remember what he did when I confronted him though.”

Ess smiled larger, and this time around, Secrat noticed all the gaps in his mouth where his teeth were missing. Secrat smirked some at the thought of Brutus being pummeled by Father Veras.

“A few months went by and I stayed clear of him. I didn’t make eye contact with him and I didn’t say anything to him. He had that fear in me that he can give you. But, then, finally, we had these men, Jalint leaders and high-ranking officials, big important people, they would come down and observe our performances. There was an older woman and she couldn’t move very fast anymore. Her bones were brittle and her body was terribly malnourished. One of the Jalint leaders kept yelling at her, over and over again. He kept telling her to work faster and telling her to do this or that. Then, the moment finally came where he struck her in the back. She fell down.”

An uncharacteristically sad look went on Brutus’ face, the fed up, defeated look that Secrat always saw on his Father’s face.

“It took one hit to cripple that woman. Toucan didn’t like that none too well. He threw him at the wall so hard I thought the whole thing would cave in. Of course, more knights came out after that, and outnumbering him, they were able to chop him down to size. And, I don’t know why, maybe I was drunk and angry again, but I made the decision to try and help fight the knights off with him. They overpowered us very easily and the eventual consequence we faced was having to spend a month straight in the hole.” Brutus let out a loud sigh and looked at The Thief with watery eyes. “Long story short, we escaped from Jalint a little after that and we have been best friends ever since!” Brutus exclaimed, letting out a forced laugh.

Secrat laughed awkwardly as well and laid his head down. Their arrival was readily approaching and he welcomed it with anxious anticipation.

2.

Brutus Ess was the first to notice Italina’s gates as they came into view. Or, at least, he was the first to say something about it. The ever aloof Samuel Syi undoubtedly would have noticed.

“It felt like that took forever and then some,” Brutus Ess ushered out with a fierce, loud inflection that broke into the long lasting silence like a broadsword into a loaf of bread.

It was always him to break the silence. Samuel Syi said nothing, focused; he threw a thumb in the air to let him know that he was aware. The horse’s direction started to sway off from the gates and did so early so as to appear inconspicuous from the guards. As they neared Italina, the way forward encumbered itself with horses and men. There were carriages and wagons being pulled, all arriving for The Aer Festival. There were also men traveling on foot. Soldiers from all parts of Maharris could be seen, each distinguishable either by their emblems and the color scheme of their armors or by their skin pigment and demeanor. They accumulated so fast, and for an instant, it seemed as if horses outnumbered the men and the women. Secrat had to imagine there was a lot of cargo that had to be pulled into the city, equipment for their pop-up stores and festival games.

Once they made it to where they were headed, they would be stopped and they would have their wagons searched as part of protocol. In that moment, the thought of how difficult it would be to smuggle items in felt more readily apparent.

Samuel swayed away from the ongoing herds; the horses started to slow themselves down, either by command or by the fatigue setting into their legs. As the troupe closed in on the walls of the coveted city, Secrat arose to one knee, inspecting it with a keenness he had never offered it before. He had never had a reason to inspect the walls before now, he supposed. The granite walls were a bleak grayish color with speckles of white. All the other times Secrat had seen the walls without lending them a second thought, he had assumed the walls were smooth and without blemish, but as he looked now, he could see the jagged edges and indentations. This wasn’t by design, but by the time it had endured.

Copé felt his balance disrupted as the wagon’s flooring became rickety. He kept from falling by luck alone.

Once they were far out enough, stopping was at least feasible. At the end of their journey, the sound of the horses galloping was quieted. It felt strange not to hear them after hearing them endlessly for such a long period of time. They had earned their keep, and now, with a neighing sound first, the horses were allotted the means to rest.

Secrat climbed from his knees and up to his feet. His legs wobbled for a moment. His knees even began coming in together, but after a small and less than graceful stumble, he steadied his stance.

A small chuckle came from Brutus, “This ain’t no time to be dancing there, Secrat!”

That might have brought laughter from at least one of the other members of The Red Flux, may have brought a lot of laughter under normal circumstances, in fact, but most of them were now only startled by his abruptness, including Secrat who flinched. Brutus was too absorbed with his own self-indulgence to notice, however.

Secrat left the wagon and the others soon followed, all except for Taison. Taison sat there with a relieved look on his face that made Secrat wish he could have been like The Carvers, if only for a second. Secrat met Samuel on the side of the wagon.

“Are you alright?” Secrat inquired with a look of honest concern on his face.

Samuel Syi’s eyes looked bloodshot and like he hadn’t slept for days, and while Secrat knew that wasn’t true, he knew Samuel was a lot less rested than the rest of them.

“The thickness in the air … every time I am around here … it always bothers me.” Samuel’s voice had more annoyance than what Secrat had come to expect from his laid-back demeanor.

That was what exhaustion and dirty air did to the best of them. Italina wasn’t that bad though. It brought a small, but sudden change that wouldn’t be noticed for more than an evening’s time. It was a lot worse when one neared Hardan. Maybe that had something to do with the minimal agriculture; the grass, a sickly yellow, or either none at all, and the trees were absent. Maybe that was it, but besides some slight sensitivity to the eyes at first, none of it was too much of a burden. Secrat had become to sand in his eyes after all the time in the Whispey Deserts which made Italina feel like a breeze in comparison.

“Do you think the guards will be an issue?” Secrat asked, his ears awaiting the sound of Samuel’s voice more than anyone else.

Samuel didn’t answer him at first, he rubbed the outside of his eyelids, but that only seemed to worsen his discomfort.

“You afraid they will search us on our way out?” Samuel inquired knowingly, for which Secrat answered with a nod.

Samuel began walking his legs, needing them stretched out and with proper blood flowing through them. “If we don’t do anything foolish to draw attention to ourselves, that shouldn’t be an issue. They don’t usually stop to search the common folk walking on foot. It would take ages and that is why we aren’t bringing the wagon.”

Samuel leaned himself forward, reaching his hands down to his toes. He arose back to a straight form.

“They might stop us on our way in. They might even search us, but when the Aer Festival has started, there will be a lot of back and forth, and so long as we don’t make ourselves out as special, I see no reason the guards would think otherwise.”

Secrat followed Samuel Syi to the back of the wagon. It felt chilly outside, but Secrat felt the moistened sweat of the day’s travels. Samuel Syi’s dark skin shined as well, and his hair was slicked back. Secrat watched as Syi’s eyes went over to Taison, who sat with that fat, unassuming face Secrat had already found himself hating.

“If you have any reason to believe that you are in danger of being found by a guard, or if you feel like you are being stalked by someone in the wilderness, then, act with caution and trust your instincts. The Wilderness beyond Italina’s walls aren’t known for being particularly dangerous, but during a massive event like this, it can be more than a little unpredictable. If it happens, relocate to the other side of the wall. We will find you afterward and another of us will be set aside with you to watch our goods.” Taison’s eyes became larger than before, as if he was only now realizing the small amount of danger for him.

He nodded fast and asked, “What do you mean by stalked? I am just somebody in a wagon. There is no reason to care about me? I am just a person in a wagon, nothing else about it.” His words were unsteady and worried, like they should have been statements but his fear crippled them by force and made them into questions.

“I don’t think anything will happen, Taison,” Samuel Syi assured.

He sounded both soothing and levelheaded with his words. It was an easy feat for Samuel.

“I don’t think anything will happen, but The Aer Festival is the most major event throughout Italina, and I can’t say exactly how much it will fill out. If we had the idea to do this, then there are likely other rival troupes and petty criminals lurking about. There is always at least a chance that someone might see you,” Samuel Syi stopped for a moment, then, sighed a bit: “In fact, if anyone were to try to do such a thing, the most opportune place would be just outside the main-city, away from prying eyes.” He smiled a bit, realizing he wasn’t helping to reassure the Prospect. “I can’t bullshit you, The Red Flux isn’t the only troupe in Maharris, but we may very well be one of the nicest. Remember that and react,” He advised.

Taison didn’t have to say anything for Secrat to know that a small dose of fear had been set into his mind; a small shivering up his spin to stress severity. Although a person wouldn’t guess it, Samuel had a small manipulative side to him, one that he likely inherited from his time spent with Father Veras. Secrat smiled at the thought. Taison didn’t, however.

Brutus Ess tied the horses down to a tree stump beside the walls. Trees were usually cut down anywhere near Italina. For all Secrat knew, they may have used the lumber for some practical purpose, but Secrat figured it was most likely because the King thought they were an eyesore, what, with their inability to sprout leaves or stay healthy.

Samuel Syi led The Red Flux. Secrat Copé, Lukas Lewis, Brutus Ess, and Marc Sero followed. The smell in the air was stuffy, like a deeply encumbered room of dust. It was a strange smell for such a large, open area. They made it to the front of Italina’s gate, and there were even more folk roaming around the entrance than before. There were various fellows, different fellows, ones of all different age groups and ethnics. The tan of skin depicted Acerian residents and, conversely, there were older ladies with pale skin and curmudgeon grimaces that were most certainly from Hardan.

Samuel Syi and Lukas Lewis paired off with one another, walking forward toward the guards. Secrat and Brutus aligned as well. It was a conscious effort to seem inconspicuous – the idea to pair the guiltiest looking man (Brutus) with one of Italina’s ‘own’ in Secrat. Marc Sero, on the other hand, was by himself. It was the way he liked it, after all.

The guard before Samuel and Lukas was a serious man. He had a face that looked sour and depraved by unpleasantness. He donned a black mustache and a grey helm over his head that hid his hair. His armor was brightly colored, looking almost like pure silver. And it very well might have been, knowing how wasteful Italina had a habit of being.

“What is your business here at Italina, the finest among Maharris, known profoundly for having the finest eating establishments and definitely, not to forget, the impeccable Sanchi Tower which overlooks much of the Amisoic Seas and sees all the way out to Olzaric?” The man said the words fast and without time for enunciation.

Having clearly rehearsed his lines, the man still managed to give off a righteous and self-congratulating front. He stood proudly as he spoke and even twirled the long ends of his mustache as the words escaped from his lips. Lukas Lewis brushed off some dirt from his clothes; the clothing adorned by the Thief was Acerian garb, fairly used, with worn and tired fabric. The guard scoffed at Lukas Lewis, clearly not impressed by the lowly thief’s wardrobe. He stared at Lukas waiting for a response, but it was Samuel who spoke instead.

“And what a humble honor and privilege it is for my colleague and I to be welcomed into this beautiful city for the Aer Festival. Perhaps I will even take a gander at the majesty Sanchi Tower with my own eyes.”

Samuel Syi’s voice had a slightly playful sarcasm in his voice that Secrat doubted the Italinian guard was capable of picking up on. The guard shot him a look of skepticism. His head tilted up in a way that literally, and theatrically, let him look down his nose at Samuel.

“You can see the Sanchi Tower all the way from the Wilderness from which you came. It is the tallest building in all of Maharris. If what you are inferring is that you would like to get near and, or, even, perhaps touch our fine monument, then I would advise you to go back from whence you came.”

Secrat Copé couldn’t see the facial expressions from Lukas, but they must have been unfavorable; the guard threw his eyes over at him with a look of disgust and offense. Samuel managed, however, to bring the guard’s attention elsewhere.

“My colleague and I wouldn’t even dream of touching the Sanchi Tower, sir. Just being able to be in the same town as such a monumental structure is more than enough of a delicacy.”

“Hmm, yes,” The guard said. “Both of you may enter beyond Italina’s doors, but I must remind every guest that they are to be on their best behavior. This isn’t just some soiree for common folk. The event is a celebration of Italina’s history and the fine men and women that layer it. King Harris will even be leaving his throne to offer a celebratory speech, that of which, you must show the deepest of respects toward.”

Lukas Lewis nothing nothing. Neither did Samuel Syi. They were in, which meant the faux pleasantries could cease. The guard threw his right hand up into the air, his index finger erect, motioning toward the men at the parapets. They walked atop the walls behind him and called out to some others on the inside. Soon came the sound of rattling chains as the large wooden doors at the center of the granite walls began to come open.

“Welcome to Italina,” the guard said, enthused as if beyond him was the opened gates leading to heaven.

Samuel and Lukas each walked beyond the gates and into the city. Several men and women entered past the gates with them, having already been accepted in by some of the other guards. There were eight guards stationed; counting the one with the black mustache and pompous voice. Secrat could see crowds and crowds of men and women walking about. The guards were outnumbered and severely understaffed. For now, that was all The Thief could see beyond the gates, no buildings or items on display. It was even more crowded than he had anticipated. He felt the back of his shoulder shoved forward by the commotion behind him. He fell to the side of Brutus Ess, using him as a crutch in order to keep stability.

“Careful there,” Brutus said, and for a moment, The Thief felt the sudden déjà vu of his time spent in the Whispey Deserts.

Secrat relented and brought himself back to a vertical stance, though, he could still feel individuals shoving and brushing against him during his efforts to move forward. The crowds made him feel uneasy, but they also churned out adrenaline in his veins. He no longer had eyes on Marc Sero but he kept a close watch on Brutus Ess.

The gates closed.

Secrat noticed Brutus veering off to the far left, away from the Italinian guard that had ushered in Samuel Syi and Lukas Lewis. The other guards were preoccupied with other civilians but Brutus appeared to deem waiting a fair compromise for not dealing with the noted man. Secrat envied Lukas Lewis in this moment. Samuel Syi had carried the conversation and greased the wheels for them being welcomed into Italina, but Secrat doubted Brutus would be so diplomatic and tactical. It would be up to Secrat to smooth things over for their entry.

Secrat followed him, gently brushing against anyone in his wake. Secrat felt a change in his own demeanor that was involuntary, he felt the perplexity vanquish all his former grace and found his movements to resemble that of a man panicking as the walls of a cave closed in on him. In earshot, Copé could hear the intermingling between one of the guards and a civilian.

“The Aer Festival is loaded this year. It looks like a fine one for certain… yes … if you will simply step aside, we will have the gates opened after the threshold is reached. Thank you,” The guard instructed.

The civilian traipsed closer to the gate and stood.

Secrat let out a sight of relief. The exchange looked fast and easy, with no useless banter or nonsense ass kissing. Brutus seemed happy to see such a smooth exchange too. And then, like the scary stories meant to keep kids out from the Unprotected Wilderness, Secrat felt a hand creep up on the back of his shoulder. The Thief saw Brutus’ eyes turn to horror at whatever was behind him, and then, a moment later, he heard: “What is your business here at Italina, the finest among Maharris, known profoundly for having the finest eating establishments, and definitely not to forget, the impeccable Sanchi Tower which overlooks much of the Amisoic Sea and even sees all the way out to Olzaric?”

Behind him, the Italinian guard most likely twirled his mustache, and most certainly had the same loud and annoying voice as earlier.

Secrat gritted his teeth and heard Brutus slur the word “Goddammit” beneath his breath.

As expected, the guard looked at them with the same holier than thou stance as displayed before.

“My friend and I are in search of passage beyond the walls of Italina to attend the Aer Fesitval,” Secrat said, before adding: “Uh, the majestic Sanchi Tower, and, uh, food.”

The guard’s face had displeasure, unsatisfied with Secrat’s answer.

Brutus added, “And we won’t touch the tower!”

“Heavens not! None of your grubby hands would ever be welcome to feel the warm embrace of Italina’s finest monument.”

The guard’s voice raised with disgust to match the tonally imbalanced slurs and hollers of Ess.

“And that is what I am saying, being in this digestive town is more than enough.” Brutus commanded.

“Digestive?” The guard glared at him, but relented: “Ah, yes, you must be referring to our fine eating establishments, such as Ollie’s Abil, though, none of this will be welcome to you.. This is not simply some soiree for common folk and Italina’s finest are far too fine to dine with the likes of you. Only those with a reservation will be allotted entry into such restaurants.”

“Fair enough,” Secrat interjected.

The guard sighed, “Peasants,” he mumbled, but loud enough for it to clearly be heard.

He waved his arm back and forth, begrudgingly instructing them to come forward. Secrat and Brutus Ess obliged, standing beside two women another guard had advised to do the same.