by CM Raymond
At first, Hannah was confused. She wondered who this lady might be, and then she realized it was her. "Naturally, the lady will need an attendant."
Ezekiel laughed. "I think you're finally getting the hang of this noblewoman life. You're going to do just fine. But you’ll need an attendant because there are preparations to be made."
"Preparations?"
"Yes," Ezekiel said, "for your interview for admission into the Academy."
"Ohhhhh… shit!" Hannah groaned.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Ezekiel left Hannah at the house to rest and practice her magic. He tried to convince her that she could use her skills to clean up the place, but she refused. The girl had a long list of spells that she wanted to practice, and in Hannah’s words: “I didn’t learn magic so that I could wash the damn windows!”
Before he left, he warned her to stay in the house. Zeke was very aware that Hannah was anxious to visit the Boulevard, to see old friends—or at least one old friend.
But in his opinion, it was far too dangerous for her to chance going there. Her disguise would work among the upper crust, but the streetwise contingent in Arcadia would see her for who she truly was—one of them.
Not that she really was one of them anymore. The girl had flourished in the past months, despite the dangers and the grueling work. Hannah really had become a woman neither from the Boulevard, nor from the Heights. Ezekiel doubted if she really knew it yet, but she would soon enough. It was no easy thing, coming home again.
Coming back home was only going to highlight just how much Hannah had changed.
Ezekiel knew that better than most.
He made his way through the noble quarter, whistling softly as he walked to a quaint little house on its east side. He stood on the doorstep, hesitated a moment to look around the street, then dropped the illusion. He wanted the two ladies inside to see him without his disguise. Then he plunged ahead and knocked on the door.
The house belonged to Eve, his oldest friend. Well, oldest human friend. Lilith the Oracle didn’t really count. He and Eve worked together in the early days, as the Age of Madness came to a close. She was there in his darkest hours, when madness almost seemed preferable to the work ahead. Without Eve, there would be no Arcadia, and probably no Ezekiel either.
She made him the man that he was.
As he waited, he once again felt like a schoolboy, riddled with nerves and about to ask a girl out on a date.
The door opened slowly, and Madelyn, Eve’s niece, stood in the entranceway. It struck him again how much she looked like her mother. Since her mother’s passing, Madelyn had come to live with her Aunt Eve, helping to take care of the place.
The girl’s face lightened as she recognized him. But then, as quickly as it had filled with gladness, it transformed into concern. "Ezekiel, welcome back to Arcadia. You've been gone too long."
He could tell that there was something she wanted to tell him and fear gripped his heart.
"Eve?" He couldn't help but ask in the simplest way he could.
The girl nodded. "Gone. A few days after your last visit. It was as if she had waited all this time for your return, and once she spoke with you my aunt just, well, gave herself up."
Ezekiel stood there speechless. The pain in his heart transcended all words.
Finally, he fought past the pain and scraped together, "I am sorry."
"Yes. We both are, " Madelyn stepped back and aside to make room for the magician to enter. “Won’t you come in?”
Ezekiel walked through the doorway and into the living room. The house still smelled like Eve—like she did when he last visited. He turned and sat on the couch, still trying to make sense of it all.
Ezekiel looked around the living room of the house of a woman that he loved. He and Eve really only knew each other for a few short years, but their feelings for each other ran deep. Whether they were fueled by the mission to build the new city, or a connection from surviving the Age of Madness, he couldn’t quite be sure. But he knew that the two fell fast, and they fell hard. Leaving Eve behind for all that time was the worst part of his forty-year absence.
And now, she was gone.
And, though he would miss her deeply, he also knew that her death would provide in him a single-minded focus on saving the city—her city. He pictured her, as she was in her bed the night he first returned, and a sense of relief washed over the magician that he had gotten to see her one last time. Though her body was frail, Eve’s spirit was as strong as ever.
She never stopped believing in this city.
Madelyn came back into the room and placed a tray of tea with some expensive looking cookies on the side table next to the couch. Ezekiel lifted his cup and sipped on the hot herbal drink. “Thank you.”
Madelyn nodded silently and took a seat next to them. “She went fast, Ezekiel. And you need to know that she ended her days in joy—primarily because of your visit. My aunt lived a good life, always took care of me and anyone else around her. A good woman all of her days.”
Ezekiel nodded. He knew these things, but it was nevertheless nice to hear them said out loud. They two sat for a while, discussing the woman they both loved, laughing and crying together.
As the hours passed, Ezekiel knew that he needed to shift the conversation to the matter at hand. There was more to be done—it was what Eve would have wanted. “What will you do now, Madelyn?”
The young woman flushed, just a little. “Please call me Maddy. Only my aunt called me by my proper name. And as for what will happen now,” she paused a moment, “I’m not really sure. The resources are dwindling, and it isn’t likely that I’ll be able to stay in this house forever.” She scanned the room, taking in all the old artifacts left behind by her aunt. “Not sure if I want to anyway. There are memories nestled in every corner, and I’ve been thinking maybe it’s time to set my eyes on the future.”
Ezekiel smiled. “Hmmm. The future, yes. You know, I think I might just know a nobleman who’s in need of someone with your talent. Any interest?”
“A nobleman?”
Ezekiel placed his teacup down on the tray and told her the entire story of what had happened since the day he last saw her. He told her all about Hannah, and his plan to move forward in their work in taking back Arcadia.
“But my girl is definitely from the Queens Boulevard—and not the daughter of a noble. She’s going to need help, someone to show her the ropes. And I think you’re just the one to do it. That is, if you think this is something worth doing? I’m not going to push you on this. Your aunt and I made our own decisions for our lives, you need to choose yours.”
Maddie bit her lip and thought about the choice. Finally, she smiled and nodded. “Yes. I’m in. I do want to help—to honor my aunt’s name because I want to and to make Arcadia everything she ever wanted it to be. I’ll do whatever you ask. It shouldn’t be too hard to teach her the ways of the nobles.”
Ezekiel snorted, almost spilling his tea as he thought about the rambunctious young woman. “You think that now, but just wait until you meet Hannah. I promise you, you’re going to have your work cut out for you.”
****
Karl had spent half the day waiting to make it through the Governor’s security at the gate. He cursed Arcadia and all those who ran the place. Normally, they let rearick carrying shipments in without much hassle, but when the Guard saw Karl, with his heavy armor still stained with the blood of the remnant, they decided to take their time searching their goods.
Karl didn’t mind traveling the road from the Heights, helping caravans make it to the city—it was waiting in the city that bothered him. Even the occasional bloodbath in the open plains of the lowlands was fine compared to the shit he had to put up with in Arcadia
And it was only getting worse.
Finally, after confirming that the rearick hadn’t hidden an invading army in their wagon, the Guards let them through. The wagons carrying gold and amphorald gems rolled through the dusty street and into the city.
It was far too late to start the journey back to the Heights that evening, not to mention his party would want to blow off some steam in Arcadia before they left. The head trader paid him half his wage, as was their arrangement, and Karl turned for the only reasonable watering hole he knew in all of Arcadia.
Sully’s Tavern was the kind of place a man would never take a date, let alone try to find one. But it was exactly the kind of joint that Karl appreciated after a long walk in the hot sun. It was dark, usually quiet, and pretty damn cheap.
He expected he could get in, drink enough to dull his dismal spirits, and get out without much trouble at all. But a long life had taught Karl that trouble tended to find him.
He waved at the bartender who slid a pint of mead across the bar. Arcadian booze was just a little better than drinking piss and wasn’t much colder. He was used to the elixir of the mystics, which was the finest drink in all of Irth, and the thick beer the rearick brewed in the heights—which made this cheap Arcadian booze look like rainwater.
When you spend your time drinking the best, nothing is quite as satisfying. There were bars closer to the noble section that he knew he could order some of the mystics’ brew, but it would cost him nearly half of his earnings by the time he was comfortably numb.
It took him three pints before he stopped minding the taste, and by then, Sully’s was starting to fill up for the evening. The men drank fast, knowing that they would have to clear out soon enough due to the damned curfew. Even with the crowd growing, Karl realized it was smaller than usual—mostly just old men and town drunks.
“Where is everybody?” Karl asked the bartender making a point to look around at those sitting and drinking.
The bartender ran a towel across the bar in front of the rearick and said, “You haven’t heard?”
“Obviously not, or I wouldn’t be asking,” Karl said with a growl.
The bartender was unfazed by his tone. “They have been pulling more men into work at the factory on the other side of Arcadia. Damn place must be pretty much filled with anybody over eighteen that can work—at least those who didn’t already have a job.”
Karl snorted. “But nothing makes a man want to have a drink more than a long day at work. Where’re they at?”
The bartender looked over his left shoulder and then his right, checking for prying ears before leaning on the bar in front of Karl. “That is a hell of a question. It’s weird. Once they started working, they just stayed there. I guess it’s the long hours. The Governor’s office continues to send checks home, so nobody’s really questioning. Except for me, of course. I’m gonna go out of business if I don’t get some of my best drunks back on their stools.” The barkeep turned around behind him, pulled another pint of mead and turned back to slide it in front of Karl. “Speaking of which, here’s another for you.”
The alcohol was starting to kick in, and Karl was glad for that. “Thanks, Sully. You’re a good man.”
Sully walked away and left the rearick with his drink. The room was starting to go a little fuzzy, and Karl knew he should probably soon call it a night, so he took his time with this one, settling into his stool. But just as he was getting really comfortable with his buzz, a few of the locals standing behind him broke out into an argument, shattering his peace and quiet.
The Pit, Arcadia’s favorite form of violent entertainment, had been closed down for months, and Karl assumed that the bar brawlers behind him just needed someplace to take out their aggression. He glanced up at Sully who shook his head and went back to pouring drinks.
The volume of the argument increased, and Karl tried to ignore them. From the slurred speech and the incoherent statements, he knew that they were a little further along on the mead than he was. He glanced over his shoulder and tried to cast a look that told them to shut the hell up. But neither of them caught his eye. The men were arguing about the Prophet. One of them, apparently a recent convert, was adamant about Old Jed and his new found religion.
The man kept going on and on about the end of days.
The other kept calling the old man names and talking about his nickname in the Boulevard—Dirty Dick Jed. There were rumors floating around Arcadia that the holy man wasn’t quite so holy after all.
The shorter of the two men said Dirty Dick one more time and received a shove from his recently converted—and much larger—friend. Karl wouldn’t have minded so much except for the fact that he was the unlucky obstacle that stopped the man’s momentum. Half of his pint splashed up on his leather overcoat, drenching his beard in the process. Karl looked down at the pint glass—his last glass for the night—cursed, and jumped off his stool.
Turning around, he glared at the both of them. “You two need to chill the fuck out and let me drink in peace. You got it?” he growled at them through clenched teeth, and the ale running down his beard made it look like he was frothing at the mouth—which was close to how he felt.
The two full-sized humans looked down on the rearick and laughed. One of them said, “What was that, little man? I can’t hear you from up here.” The other man, the one who had just shoved his friend, slapped the guy on the back—apparently, their argument ended when they found something they both agreed on—picking on the rearick.
Karl shook his head, his eyes narrowing. “I wouldn’t be making jokes like that if I were you.”
The taller drunk took his turn. “What’s the matter? Little rearick’s got his feelings hurt?”
Karl moved faster than those at the bar would’ve expected from the short stocky figure. In one swift move, he grabbed his stool from the floor and shattered it against the man’s legs. As he dropped, Karl connected a fist to the man’s chin.
“That’s one down.” No scream, so Karl wasn’t worried about him.
The taller friend, stunned by Karl’s act of aggression, nevertheless had the time to react. He threw a punch toward the rearick, not realizing fighting was in Karl’s blood, in his bones, and frankly, he could see the asshole’s effort for what seemed like hours before he threw the punch.
He grabbed the guy’s wrist with both hands and spun, twisting it behind his back. The man dropped to his knees in pain, but Karl refused to let go.
He leaned in close, twisting the wrist a little further, and whispered into the man’s ear. “You know, I’d love to let you leave here without a broken arm, but it can be hard for a little guy like me to be the bigger man. So, I think you’re gonna have to apologize first.
The Arcadian whimpered out a response. Karl upped the pain and leaned in closer. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you from way up here. Say again?”
“I... I said I’m sorry.”
“There ya go,” Karl said, “Now, I feel all better. And you will too... in a couple of days.”
“Wha—” but before the man could finish his question, Karl slammed the man’s head into the bar. The drunk slid to the ground unconscious and landed on top of his friend.
Both Arcadians were breathing, which Karl considered a mercy. Years of combat had given him pretty thick skin, but he had a sore spot when it came to wasted beer and short jokes.
Sully came out from around the bar and nodded at a bouncer standing at the door, who dragged the friends out of the bar and dropped them into the dusty streets.
Sully slid another mead across the bar to Karl. “Here’s one to replace the other.”
Karl nodded, though he wasn’t quite sure if he was thankful after taking a sip. If the bartender had done his job and stopped the bickering early, Karl wouldn’t have had to get his hands dirty. But on the other hand, it felt good to get the blood flowing once in a while, and a little guilt-free bar brawl was as good as it was going to get in terms of fun around here. He decided to leave Sully a large tip. He finished the first half of the pint and then turned toward the new one.