29 – Streaking

I dealt with Augustus, so my lineage would prosper. The price was steep, the bounty more than worth it.

Excerpt from the hidden memoirs of Tibald Merinus.

The sun was halfway to its zenith when she pulled the trigger. She pushed the only door of the house open, and peeked behind it. Therion and Lara’s house was located at the southern edge of the village. That was perfect for her plans.

She took a deep breath. There was no one in sight, but the risk would always be there. She had to take her chance.

As fast as she could without making a sound, she stepped outside, and closed the door behind her. Then, she ran for the plains. As soon as she reached the flowers, she crouched, taking advantage of the tall stems to hide her figure.

Alexandra moved slowly, but she was hidden. Only when Lanterne had disappeared below the horizon did she allow herself to stand up.

She smiled. “That was easy.” But her lips froze. “I’m sure Lara and Therion will have my back.”

As long as she wasn’t caught when sneaking back in, she’d probably be fine to return to Lanterne. Where things got trickier was to complete her daily.

She frowned as she summoned her journal. She read the quest a thousand times this morning, but she read it again anyway.

Quest Journal

Daily Reset: 06:00 | Streak: 8 Days | 0% All Stats

Next Milestone: 10 Days

Daily Quests:

• Cross the path of a thousand people (2/1000)

She didn’t know what to think of this quest. On one hand, it was impossible to do in Lanterne. On the other, it would be extremely easy once she got to Esmera. Since the city was only twenty-five or so kilometers away, she would be able to get there in two hours if she ran.

It wouldn’t be easy, but it was definitely possible. Stats had a way to improve her physique beyond the mundane.

The issue was surviving the city. Bamir had impressed upon her that her white hair could be an issue. She could explain her facial scars, hide her missing finger, but she didn’t have the means to dye her hair yet.

Annoying.

She found the road, and started running south. Ultimately, she had her hood to hide her hair, so she wouldn’t let the detail of her hair color ruin her streak.

Alexandra spotted the walls of Esmera a little before noon, and she slowed down to take in the scenery. Her rush to complete her dailies almost made her forget that she was in a magical world, but the vision of rolling flower fields descending toward tall white walls, then the packed city and its harbors was a sight to behold.

The flower fields ran all the way down to the walls, the pastel of the plains giving way only at the last moment where the ground had been cleared and packed flat. White walls, catching the midday light. Behind them, dark tile rooftops in tight rows stepping down the gentle slope toward the water. And beyond the rooftops, the harbor, where three large sailing ships sat at anchor, their masts rising higher than anything in the city, taller than the walls, taller than the buildings.

She stood there for a moment.

The city filled the gap between two arms of cliff that reached into the sea on either side, the only place on this stretch of coast where the land descended gently enough to build on. From here she could see how it happened. The plains sloping gradually down, the city filling the bowl, the harbor opening out at the bottom. Everything funneled toward the water.

No large edifice dominated the center. No temple with columns, no palace, no tower catching the eye and announcing that someone important lived there. Just rooftops, market stalls, the harbor.

The road ahead of her had people on it. Not a crowd, not a queue, just the ordinary traffic of a city going about its day. A cart loaded with crates was being pushed by two men toward the gate. A woman walked with a basket over one arm. Further out, workers were doing something to a section of wall with ladders and buckets. Two guards stood at the gate, watching the road with their eyes half-closed.

She pulled her hood tight and kept walking.

The guards waved her through without stopping her. She didn’t complain.

Inside the walls the city was louder than Lanterne. The sounds layered, cart wheels on stone, someone arguing a price at a stall, the creaking of rope under tension. The streets were narrow and mostly straight, running down the slope toward the harbor.

The market occupied the first stretch past the gate. Stalls on both sides, most of them dealing in what the plains produced. Dried flowers in bundled rows, labeled in chalk on small boards. Powders in clay jars, arranged by color. Oils in dark glass bottles, stoppered with wax. She recognized Aetherveil in several forms; dried stems, pressed petals, fine powder, and other plants she’d learned the names of in the past week, along many she hadn’t. The smell was dense, medicinal and floral.

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Farmers, Merchants with ledgers, a few sailors moving through the market with the tan and rolling gait of those who spent more time at sea than on land buying provisions.

Then came the fish. Stalls upon stalls of mostly fresh fish sold to the locals for their meals. She didn’t recognize any. Not that she would have been able to on earth. To her, nothing looked more like a fish than another fish.

She kept her hood up and moved with the foot traffic.

The streets widened slightly as she descended. Houses here were taller than in Lanterne, two stories, their facades close together, laundry strung between upper windows. Children ran between carts. A dog slept across a doorstep, unbothered.

She didn’t bother counting people as she walked. There were too many. She also didn’t check her journal out in the open, fearing that someone would take issue with it. She didn’t know where that concern came from.

The harbor opened at the bottom of the slope, the street emptying into a wide flat area of packed stone that ran along the water. The ships were bigger up close. Three of them stood out from the fishing barks, their hulls dark with tar, ropes thick as her arm running from the masts to iron rings set into the dock. Crates were being unloaded from the nearest one, a chain of men passing them hand to hand up the plank.

She stopped at the edge of the dock area and watched.

A flash of white at the far end of the harbor caught her eye. A woman standing by the sea, her robes reminiscent of Bamir’s.

Alexandra stepped behind the nearest crate.

A man came up to the priestess. He was young, priest’s robes still brand new, standing straight. He was talking quickly. “We found no trace of Valudipan’s influence on the ship.”

“You’ve verified the cargo and the crew?”