This city's too clean.
I had finally reached the Inner Rim, after a long walk through the Noble district. If I had known Caspian lived a thirty-minute walk away, I would've asked for some change. But it was a bit too late now.
I walked along the cobblestone street, my hands in my pockets. I had only my white shirt on, while my jacket hung over my shoulder. It was a bit hot today, but I decided that keeping the jacket was worth it if I could sell it.
It seemed to be mid-day, as the light of the sun glared down onto me. I usually hated the sun, but after last night, I had gained a newfound fondess for the light.
I started to get bored again, a part of me wished that earphones had been invented. To curb my boredom, I started to look around.
The streets were slightly crowded, as it was the weekend. The woman were dressed in fashionable dresses, with most being white. Some wore hats so big it gave them complete shade, and others carried umbrellas to cover from the sun. Just like Earth, people here were still obsessed in appearance and skin complection.
There were fewer men, but many still walked along the street. Despite the heat, a lot of the men still wore black clothing with large top hats. Unlike the Outer Rim, men here cared much more for their appearance, as social status meant everything in the upper echelons of society.
I liked the much more casual nature of the Outer Rim, and I enjoyed the more friendly attitude. But the safety and quality of living here in the Inner Rim was my priority at this point. I didn't need the extra stress that the Outer Rim would bring.
Especially since I'm living rent free.
With a happy smile, I thanked whatever God existed that I didn't have to pay rent or taxes.
Ironically, while offering a prayer mentally, I turned a corner into a new street, around five-minutes away from my humble apartment. I had taken a small detour, but it was worth it to curb my listlessness.
What greeted me was a very spectacular site. A grand gothic cathedral that sat in the middle of four streets, all surrounding it. Its architecture kind of reminded me of the cathedral in Barcelona, and the fact I could see something just around the corner from where I lived was a highlight of my day.
Its spires, wrapped in deep black bronze seemed to reach the sky. It lay in the middle of the street, all of the other streets surrounded it. Its doors were wide open, as if to invite anyone willing to wash away their sins. Two human-sized statues, both in different positions stood adjacent to the doors. The one on the left wore a traditional set of armour, and held a sword that pierced the ground. He seemed sombre, as if his duty was weighing on his shoulders.
The other statue was similar to the other one, except more modern. It was also a statue of a man, but he wore modern military garments, and held a rifle in a ready position. He seemed to be an ordinary rank and file soldier, one you could find in any trench line. But his statue was firm and determined, and even though he had no eyes, you could see the determination from its stance.
Plaques were placed at the feet of both men, with writing too small for me to read from a distance. It was probably the names of the men, or probably their prayers carved into metal, memorials to their sacrifice or sanctification. Either way, I felt no need to step closer.
I stayed planted where I was for a minute, just looking.
Well, I hope you both are at peace now.
I hadn't even entered the cathedral, and yet something heavy lingered in the air. The smell of burning incense drifted faintly down the street, mixed with the warm aroma of ash and candle smoke. I could even hear soft hymns echoing faintly from within - soft chants that reminded me more of mourning than praise.
Looking up at the looming spires again, I felt... small. I never liked that.
So I left.
Turning away from the church, I walked the rest of the way home in silence.
.
.
.
.
My place wasn't anything special, but at least I was finally home.
An apartment on the utmost edge of the Inner Rim, right before the wall that separated us from the Outer Rim. It was modest, tucked on the second floor of a narrow building wedged between a tailoring shop and a clockmaker. The singular window above my desk only revealed a back alley, and the plumbing sounded like it had a smoker's cough. But I had a roof, a door, and - most importantly - privacy.
Still smells like dust and old wood, but it's nostalgic at least.
I tossed the jacket over the coat rack, kicked off my shoes, and finally breathed out. The day had been long, and I was mentally preparing myself for whatever equipment Cassian had promised, with the faint hope they had remembered my revolver.
He didn't disappoint.
Sitting neatly on the table in the top left corner of the room was a folded black cloak, resting atop a regular black wooden box. Next to it, a long sheathed blade leaned against the wall, its brown hilt etched with silver markings that glowed faintly in the low light of the window.
And then there was the note.
It was sealed with a strange wax stamp - an eye surrounded by hands that seemed to grab at it. I carefully peeled it open, careful in case any enchantments were cast upon it.
---
Damian,
Your position as an auxiliary agent of the Inquisition is now officially recognised under the provisional clause of Operative Fast-Track Act 8.2. You are to consider this an initiatory mission. Completion will result in your advancement into an Inquisitorial Initiate.
You are to investigate the following:
Location: Western Industrial District, Outer Rim
Target: Saint-Mira Rubber Plant — suspected site of rebellious activity, including the potential manufacturing or distribution of illicit contraband which may be linked to heretical forces.
Objective: Infiltrate under disguise. Investigate administrative-level personnel, particularly Foreman Halrigg, who has been under surveillance for a while. We have reasons to believe he is involved in unauthorised dealings with the lower elements of society.
Parameters: Do not engage unless absolutely neccesary. Extraction of information is the goal, and violent means are prohibited unless authorised.
Your Equipment Includes:
1x Standard-Issue Inquisitorial Cloak
1x Abyssal-Steel Sword (Hidden Variant)
1x Ammunition replenishment and rune-cleaning cloth for personal revolver (logged and registered to Agent "D. Solmere")
Secondary Objective: Report any rebellious elements that may be brewing among the workers of the factory.
We will be watching your progress, Damian.
The Empire trusts only the unseen.
---
I set the letter down and sat in silence for a long moment, staring at the blade. I felt a cold sweat down my back, especially at the mention of being watched.
I have a feeling that the "watching me" part is more than figurative.
So it begins.
Whatever casual peace I had this morning was long gone now. The cloak felt heavier in my hands than it should have, and its deep black reminded me of the Inquisitors from the mansion. It was tailored, but not for comfort - built to obscure, to let one disappear in a crowd, and reappear like a blade in the dark.
I grabbed the hilt that leaned next to the desk. Its brown hilt had some silver letters engraved into it, in a language I couldn't comprehend. I saw a button where my thumb would rest, and making sure I had enough room, I pressed it.
The blade popped out, as if it were a switchblade. It measured more than half my body length, and was painted in stainless steel. The sword was light but firm, as if it were made of carbon fibre. Just like the ones I saw back at the mansion, paper-thin but incredibly sharp. It hummed quietly when I picked it up - resonating faintly with my hand.
I opened the box last.
The cloth inside was wrapped around my old revolver, its black bronze colour lightly gleaming in the window's light. Next to it, were a container of bullets and a jar of black oil. Cleaning rune-burn, I assumed. When I sheathed my new sword and placed it next to the revolver, the pieces finally felt like they fit.
It was strange. But they didn't feel foreign. They felt almost familiar. I had taught myself sword arts, but they would be a mere flattery in front of an experienced duelist. I just hoped I wouldn't encounter such an adversary anytime soon, and also that Cassian would offer sword fighting lessons.
Thinking back to the enigmatic send off on the letter, a faint smile graced my lips.
The Empire trusts only the unseen, huh? Sounds pretty wicked to be honest.
I looked around my apartment, then at my reflection in the dusty window. After seeing my smiling reflection, it quickly turned to a frown. A boy. A killer. A servant. A soldier. What was I exactly? What would I have to become in the future?
I shook the thought loose. There would be time for reflection later.
Right now, I had work to do.