A FEAST OF ASH AND COGS
When Madam Vex released Kaelen, the world seemed to have grown a fraction heavier. It was not a true liberation, but rather the loosening of a leash.
The tournament is in three days, she had said, her mechanical chair huffing steam as she puffed on her cigarette. Get to know the city. Whet your hatred. But do not die. Do not let my investment go to waste.
When Kaelen stepped back into the narrow alleys of the Crimson Market, he possessed nothing but the iron medallion Vex had given him. He had not a single cent, nor a morsel of food to quell the gnawing hunger in his gut.
The rain had begun again. This time, it was not water that fell from the sky, but a grey sludge of mud.
The people... they did not look at Kaelen. They looked through him. They ignored him just as they would a wall, a heap of trash, or a stray dog. But when their eyes did meet his... that was when the looks of pure loathing emerged.
Freak, a stall owner whispered as Kaelen passed. The man hurriedly threw a cloth over the metal parts on his table, as if Kaelen's gaze alone might contaminate the steel.
Kaelen paused. His right eye twitched. GRIEF felt heavy on his back, a cold mass of metal. The sword did not appreciate the humiliation of its master.
He kept walking. Aimlessly. He followed the pull drawing him upward, but the streets of the Rust District were a horizontal labyrinth, not a vertical one.
As he entered a side alley, he heard a light, rhythmic patter behind him.
One step. A stop.
Two steps. A stop.
Kaelen's left ear filtered out the sound of the rain. He could hear the breathing behind him—rapid, shallow, and excited.
A child. Or a very small man.
Kaelen feigned ignorance and continued walking. He looked into a puddle ahead. In the reflection, he saw the shadow drawing closer.
The shadow reached out for the pouch at Kaelen's waist—the empty pouch.
Kaelen did not turn. He simply swept his right hand backward with a speed the human eye could not follow.
He caught a wrist in mid-air.
Ah! Let go! Let go of my arm!
Kaelen turned.
The thing he had caught was a scrawny boy wearing a jacket swimming in mud, his face masked by motor oil and soot. He was twelve, perhaps thirteen at most. His head was shaved, save for a single tuft of hair standing up like a hedgehog's quill at the crown. His eyes... they were darting everywhere.
Let me go! the boy shouted, trying to drive a rusted screwdriver into Kaelen's hand with his free arm.
Kaelen caught the other wrist as well. He lifted the boy into the air, high enough for his feet to leave the ground.
Why are you following me? Kaelen asked. His voice was resonant enough to drown out the city's din.
The boy stopped struggling. He stared into Kaelen's face, specifically at that pitch-black right eye. He was afraid, but he did not look with disgust like the others. It was more... curiosity.
Your purse, the boy panted. It looked full. You came out of Vex's office. Those who leave that woman's presence usually have heavy pockets.
Kaelen lowered the boy slowly but did not release him.
My pockets are empty.
Really? The boy grimaced. Then Vex scammed you too. That woman is a total witch.
Kaelen let the boy go. The boy did not flee. Rubbing his wrist, he looked Kaelen up and down.
You are the one, the boy said suddenly. The giant who kicked the guard. Everyone is talking about you. They call you the Black-Eyed Giant.
The boy extended his hand. His fingers were thin and covered in alchemical burns.
I am Rico. The best thief in this district, the fastest runner, and—if your stomach is empty—the best guide.
Kaelen did not look at the hand. I have no need for a guide.
You do, Rico said with a grin, revealing a missing front tooth. Because right now, you are heading straight into the Carrion Ward of the Rust District. In there, they would tear someone like you apart just for your sword and sell it as scrap. Besides...
Rico heard the growl emanating from Kaelen's stomach.
...besides, you are hungry. And you are penniless.
Kaelen stopped. The boy was right. Survival in this city was nothing like hunting in the forest. Here, survival was a game with rules.
What do you suggest? Kaelen asked.
Rico narrowed his eyes. He crossed his arms with the air of a merchant.
Look, you are big, strong, and you carry a sword the size of an apartment door. I am small, I can fit into any hole, and I know where the work is.
He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. It was a posted notice.
Look at this. Pest control in a basement. Reward: 50 Cogs and two meals.
Kaelen looked at the paper.
Pests?
Not rats, Rico said, turning serious. A Slime Ghoul fed on alchemical waste. The senile old shopkeeper is afraid that if he tells the Inquisition, they'll burn his shop down. So he's looking for someone unofficial.
Rico tapped a finger against Kaelen's chest.
You kill it. I negotiate the pay. We split the food. How about it?
Kaelen looked at Rico. He did not see Groth, or Liora, or a tragic past in this boy. He saw only a pure, unadulterated will to survive. This child was a part of this rusted world.
If you betray me, Kaelen said, his right eye opening slightly. I will find you.
Rico swallowed at the sight of that black eye but did not back down. Deal, Giant. Follow me.
Half an hour later, they were in the basement of a hardware store in one of the lowest layers of the Rust District.
The shopkeeper—a cranky man with a patch over one eye—grimaced when he saw Kaelen.
This is it? he asked Rico. This monstrosity is going to clean my shop? If the Inquisition sees this, they'll hang me too!
Rico stepped in, spreading his hands. Hey, hey! Calm down, old man. This man isn't a monstrosity, he's an artist! Besides, if the Inquisition came, they'd quarantine your shop and seize your goods. We'll just do the job and go. Quiet and clean.
The man grumbled but was desperate. The stench rising from the basement was like rotten eggs and acid. It was about to spread to the entire neighborhood.
Fine, the man said. But I'll deduct the cost of anything you break inside.
Kaelen said nothing. He lifted the basement hatch.
It was dark below. And wet.
I'll wait here, Rico said, holding his nose. How do you fare with light?
I have no need for it, Kaelen said, and dropped into the darkness.
When he landed, he stepped into a viscous fluid that reached his ankles. The smell burned his eyes.
He opened his right eye.
The darkness dissolved. The basement was illuminated by grey lines. And in the corner, hidden behind the barrels, he saw it.
The Slime Ghoul.
It was the size of a dog but possessed no true shape. It was a semi-liquid, semi-solid mass of alchemical waste. Bones, metal shards, and undissolved trash floated within it. It had only two glowing, yellow eyes.
The creature sensed Kaelen's energy. It hissed, the sound like water being poured onto hot oil.
Kaelen did not draw GRIEF. He would not foul his blade for this creature. The sword wanted blood, not mud.
The creature lunged.
Kaelen stepped aside. When the creature struck the wall, the bricks melted with acid, and smoke rose.
You are fast, Kaelen said to himself.
He picked up a rusted iron bar from the floor.
When the creature attacked again, Kaelen drove the bar into the center of its mass—the energy center between those yellow eyes.
However, the bar melted. The creature swallowed the metal.
Kaelen frowned. Physical attacks were ineffective. This thing was not matter; it was a reaction.
At that moment, Rico's voice came from above.
Hey, Giant! Fire! These things hate heat! There is quicklime in the barrels!
Kaelen scanned the area with his right eye. Yes, there were sacks in the corner labeled Lime.
The creature spat a glob of acid toward Kaelen's leg. Kaelen jumped at the last second, the tip of his boot hissing.
He ran to the sacks. He grabbed one and hurled it at the creature. The sack burst in mid-air. White powder showered over the creature's wet, sticky body.
A chemical scream erupted.
The lime reacted with the acidic slime. The creature began to bubble, dry out, and solidify. Within seconds, that fluid monster was transformed into a grey, motionless stone statue.
Kaelen steadied his breathing.
It is done, he called upward.
When they emerged, the shopkeeper counted the money into Rico's palm—reluctantly.
Do not come back, the man said, and slammed the door in their faces.
Rico tossed the coins into the air and caught them.
See, Giant? Easy work. 50 Cogs. Half for you, half for me.
They split the money. Rico led Kaelen to a street vendor across the way. They bought two Steam Kebabs—likely rat meat again, but heavily spiced.
Kaelen sat on the curb and took a bite of his food. This time, it tasted better than Vex's luxury meal. Because he had earned this. Not as a slave, but as a hunter.
Rico sat beside him, kicking his legs as he ate his kebab.
What is your name, Giant? he asked with his mouth full. Your real name?
Kaelen paused for a moment. He swallowed the bite.
Kaelen.
Pleasure to meet you, Kaelen, Rico said. Stick with me. I won't make you a king, but I'll keep you fed. And maybe... we'll even find a way up into that tower you keep looking at.
Kaelen looked up at the Silver Tower beyond the hazy sky. Then he looked at this small, dirty thief beside him.
Perhaps, Kaelen said.
For the first time, he did not feel entirely alone in this city.
Would you like me to translate the next chapter for you or shall we continue developing the story here?