ARC 8-55 (LITTLE WATER)

Little Water was not thrilled with her lack of progress concerning the second Calamity.

The way she left the warren, absconding with workers and chasing after a human, would mean her death if she returned without results. She didn’t have a plan when she made her decision, merely a refusal to fade into mediocrity. But she wasn’t foolish enough to think that determination would be enough. Somewhere, kept at bay by sheer obstinance, a part of her knew that anything that would incline the Great Mother to forgive her was beyond her ability.

However, the majesties had covered her fate in their great shadow. She was shown a path to success. The second Calamity. Equally important, a noble that could negotiate with the human lord of the fort on her behalf. She could accomplish her goal and more.

Little Water was further enthused when she managed to successfully negotiate with the Calamity, no, Lou. However, her success was short-lived. She had nothing more to bargain with. She and her workers had combed the city’s ruins, looking for traces of the strange creature that had been skulking around the edges of the estate, but there was nothing to find. Not so much as a clue.

It was frustrating, being stuck. Worse, with the dedicated efforts of the city’s inhabitants to clear away the rubble of the battle, it was getting harder to continue the search. She dreaded the day the numbness that had stolen over the people shattered and they became aware of their surroundings again, particularly of the people who always skulked about dressed in long cloaks. All it would take was one curious or drunken tug on their hoods and they would have all manners of problems on their tails.

Little Water had to find something that would interest Lou and she had an indeterminable time limit in which to do it. Aside from that, she was concerned about her human. It had been several weeks since he was given to Lou and she hadn’t spoken a word about the judgment she would render. One word from her would determine if Khan lived or died, her dream with him.

Her worries meant she wasn’t in a good mood when she started to comb the shattered streets. Still, her turbulent thoughts didn’t affect her senses. She remained wary, which meant she spotted another group skulking through the shadows before they noticed her.

Many creatures that lived underground had terrible eyesight, as it was unnecessary in an environment without much light. Though the estrazi built their warrens beneath the earth for safety, they weren’t handicapped in such a way. They were the hands and feet of the majesties; they were exemplary in every way, especially the stronger females. Perched in the window of a leaning structure, she had had no problem distinguishing the outlines of eight figures moving at a quick pace from a distance that would make them nothing more than shifting shadows to the average human eyes.

Normally, she wouldn’t bother keeping track of what the humans of the south got up to but she was desperate for something to bring back to Lou. She wasn’t allowed to move freely through the estate during the day but she’d overheard the conversation with the redheaded woman; the shouting had caught her interest and she’d snooped from just beyond the dining room. Lou cared about the city. Information about the happenings in it might be enough to garner some goodwill at the very least.

With that in mind, Little Water ordered the workers forward. As one, they shadowed the group toward the north, back to the Myriad Zone. She started to doubt their worth when they dipped into a bar but decided to follow them anyway; there was nothing else to do and it was unusual for any of the survivors to have any money to spend on frivolous distractions. She allowed one of the workers to follow her while the others surrounded the building.

The bar was boisterous, as was common for humans drinking in excess. Few gazes even bothered to look up as they entered, something Little Water appreciated. She also appreciated that the group her targets had joined were conspicuous, taking up a quarter of the room. Several tables were pushed together to accommodate two dozen people, all talking together as they drank and shared two bowls of dwindling nuts.

The man who stood before the tables didn’t indulge in any way. He stood tall and straight, his hair combed and his eyes severe. Little Water got the distinct impression he was dissatisfied as he looked over the group but he didn’t speak out against their conduct. Likely because he was weak.

Estrazi females could smell proper mates amongst males. She didn’t have a similar sense for humans but she’d been around strong beings for long enough that she had learned to recognize the particular way they had about them. She had also been around the weak and mindless workers long enough to learn their ways. The man that stood before the crowd reminded her more of the weak than the strong. And when the weak gathered away from the sight of the strong, a scheme was sure to develop.

They took their time getting started. A barmaid came by, forcing Little Water to order drinks so as not to draw undue attention. Even taking small sips with long pauses between them, she’d nearly finished her mug before a red-haired man walked up to the supposed leader. Another weakling, but he deferred to the dark-haired one. He whispered into the leader’s ear before taking a seat with the others.

The apparent leader’s tight frown eased. He clapped his hands and, after a little jostling, the group turned to him, something that would have surprised Little Water if she hadn’t tasted what the establishment was serving. The drinks were watered down; the lack of trade was starting to affect the Zone it seemed.

As such, despite the heavy drinking, the group was alert. Something the leader took advantage of.

“Good evening, proud people of Quest. If you are here, it’s because you want to make a difference but don’t know how. In this world, those without magic or might are often overlooked. This kingdom would have you believe that an able mind and a strong will aren’t enough. That…is a lie. A malicious tradition imposed on the people of this kingdom to keep you from reaching your true potential. But in this time of tragedies, we can’t afford to keep our heads bowed, to avert our eyes from the truth. You’re here because you know this as well. And I’m here to show you the way.”

A scoff makes the leader pause, his dark eyes snapping to the man in the group that made the sound. They hold each other’s gazes but when the interruptor holds his silence, the leader continues.

“If you don’t know me, my name is Callan Atkinson. I’m the son of a carpenter and was raised to be the same. For most of my life, I worked to craft comfortable seats for the powerful and I wondered why that couldn’t be me. I wondered, but I never questioned it. Not until the fateful day I learned of the greatest secret of the world.

“The truth is, even someone with little talent and no training like me can be powerful…as long as you are willing to sacrifice. Just as a noble has the wealth to employ knights, you too can employ a powerful servant. But because you have no gold or land to offer, you have to trade your blood and your body. Maybe more. You may have to trade everything that you are and can become. But, if you are smart, what you receive in turn will be worth the price.”

“Alright, I’m out.”

Little Water’s couldn’t turn with the rest of the group, as she didn’t want it to be obvious that she was following their conversation, but her attention followed the others as they looked to the man that had scoffed earlier. 

He stood, along with three others, mug in hand and a sneer on his face. He waved his drink in Callan’s direction. “I had a feeling this was going to be bullshit and you proved me right. Though you could have at least made a show of it.”

“What’s your name?” Callan asked with a frown.

“Does it matter? I’m gone. And if the rest of you mooks have any sense, you’ll leave with us. This bastard’s talking about blood. I bet if you go along with this, half of younare going to black out and wake up missing body parts.”

The group seemed unsettled at the prospect. A few more hesitantly climbed to their feet, looking between the two men. Waiting to see who would make the better argument.

Callan sighed. “If you want to leave, go. I don’t need weak-willed dullards with no imagination. If you can’t believe that you can be anything more than faceless victims, why would I waste my time and resources convincing you otherwise? Get out of my sight.”

It was a particular trait of humans that they could not stand to be demeaned. Khan did not take it lightly when Little Water objectively stated that the estrazi were greater than humanity; it would be strange if the race raised by the majesties weren’t better than pretentious apes, no matter that some among their number were worth something. Similarly, the man who was ready to ignore Callan stiffened when told to leave and set his feet, showing no intention to retreat.

“Who do you think you are? I’m a member of the Torchbearers, bastard. I don’t need a table maker looking down on me.”

“Can you be a member of a guild that doesn’t exist?”

The hunter grit his teeth. “Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you!”

“And what will that do?!” Callan snapped. “Go ahead. Hit me or burn me, if it makes you feel better about yourself. You’ll still be a nobody struggling to get drunk in the shattered remains of your home you could do nothing to defend and can do nothing to help!”

The hunter flushed, his hands balled at his side, the picture of anger on the verge of exploding…but he didn't move. Callan scoffed at the sight of impotent rage and deliberately looked away from him.

“I know how this sounds. In these dire times, it's hard to hope, especially when it comes from someone like me. But I promise you that my words aren’t empty. What I offer is real. What I can do for you, what I can show you how to do for yourselves, is real. And I can prove it. Right now.”