I tried to stick by Gavin’s side as we travelled. He was the one Finn introduced me to, so I thought I should stay with him. He put that notion to end rather quick. Any time I tried to talk to him, he would act like he hadn’t heard me. It didn’t take me long to realise he didn’t want me hanging around, so I gave him the space that he wanted.
I still have no idea of what Zadok will be like. Is it going to be the same as New Vetus? Wanting to learn more, I pull my hood tight before approaching a woman sitting on one of the rearmost carriages. She’s holding a rope leading to a strange four-legged animal. Her clothes are thinner than the leather the guards around the caravan wear, but as she doesn’t have a cudgel of her own, she probably isn’t expected to fight.
“What is this creature?” I ask, keeping my distance in case the animal becomes aggressive. It’s a quadruped, like dingoes and fennec foxes, but looks nothing alike.
“You’ve never seen a pholo before?” She looks down at me, surprised.
“No.”
“Hmm, well, they are smaller, fatter and slower cousins of the horse, lazier too.” She pauses for a moment before moving to the side of her seat, patting beside herself, “why don’t you join me?”
“Thank you,” I say as I climb onto the carriage next to her. This is kinda nice, being carried around by pholo would have made travel for my tribe so convenient. Uncle sometimes let me ride on his wagon, but that only ever happened when I was exhausted.
“It’s odd that you’ve never seen a pholo before. Where are you from?” she keeps her attention forward as she asks.
I watch the pholo trod along on its stubby legs, pulling the carriage and both of us along with ease. The wheels almost glide along the well-worn path.
“I escaped from New Vetus.”
Her eyes widen, and her attention snaps back to me. “No way! It must have been horrible.” She turns her head, glancing between the other carriages. “Are you alone?”
At my nod, she returns a pitying glance.
“Well, I’m sure things will get much better from now on. The Zadok Kingdom is a far better country than anything those barbaric ursu could build. I’m Bianca, by the way, what’s your name?” she asks.
“Solvei,” I answer. “How long will it take to get there?”
“We should get to Kelton before dark.”
“Oh? That’s close!” I’m not used to places being within a few days trek of each other. Most of the time, it takes over a week of travel to get to other places. If it wasn’t for the railway in New Vetus, I’m sure it would have taken months to travel from Fisross to Morne.
“Yeah, it is. But Kelton is big, it’ll take the caravan a week to pass through. Serron is other side of the wall after that. Are you travelling to Serron?” Bianca asks.
“I don’t know. Anywhere but New Vetus seemed good, but I’m not sure where else I can go.” I say honestly.
“Ah. Well, you definitely don’t want to stop in Kelton, it’s not a good place to be. I’d say go a bit further than Serron and reach Ashon. There are a lot more opportunities there.”
I consider her words, do I want to stop in Ashon and see if life will work out there or continue north like Finn said I should?
“Did you always live in Vetus?” Bianca asks.
“Yeah, I lived near Morne with my mum,” I lie. “What’s Zadok like?” I try to turn the conversation away from my past. I can’t kid myself, I am not a good liar. If they ask questions, I might be in trouble.
“Well, it’s got its problems, that’s for sure. But what place doesn’t? It can be difficult for families like mine to find opportunities for work. But family is always there to help one another, no matter how hard things become. Oh, and the food is great.”
Yeah, family is always there for each other.
Apparently noticing my souring mood, Bianca realises her words. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I’m sure you’ll be adopted into a great family when make it to the city. For a kid as cute as you, I’m sure you’ve got gorgeous…” She reaches to my hood and pulls it back as she speaks.
It is obvious the moment she sees my hair for the first time, her eyes widen and she looks around as if checking if anyone else sees.
In a hushed voice, she speaks, “I can’t be seen with you. I’m sorry. Please get off. I’m so sorry.” Her face contorts in a mix of guilt and fear. Her eyes flicker left and right, unable to hold eye contact anymore.
I freeze for a moment, unable to comprehend this change. After my initial interaction with the fort guards, I’d assumed my darker hair disgusted them, but this reaction isn’t the same. Bianca acts like she is afraid to speak with me, although it’s not me she’s afraid of, but other people? Will others judge her for simply interacting with me?
“Please, please. Go, my family can’t afford to lose any more.” She pleads with me.
I jump off her carriage. The tightening in my chest is hard to ignore, I enjoyed talking with Bianca — as brief as it had been — so to be cut off so soon hurt, even if I should have expected nothing more. Casting my gaze down on the ground, trying to hide my hair even more, I scamper off.
“Solvei.” I stop as Bianca calls my name. Turning around, I look up at her. She’s struggling to get her words out, but I hardly care at the moment. “Good luck. I’m sorry,” she says. Feeling insulted and hurt, I turn my head from her and continue to the back of the caravan.
Finn warned me, but I’d hoped I could still make friends, or at least have a conversation. I shouldn’t feel like this. I talked to her for not even five minutes. After Gloria, I thought I wouldn’t let anyone else in as easily.
No, it’s not that I trusted her or anything. I was simply happy to talk to someone again. It’s stupid. I’m stupid. This is a good warning for me, there are more ways for someone to hurt you than the way Gloria had. Bianca didn’t want to hurt me, but she still rejected me, knowing it will hurt me.
I fall into a trot a few paces behind the last of the carriages. A couple of guards walk behind me, but I keep out of their way. My head stays downturn as I watch the wheel roll ahead of me. I’ll hide myself for the remainder of the trip; even if I’d much rather talk with those around me, I’ve learnt my lesson.
Kelton is disgusting. It looks like a junk pile tipped over and they labelled it a city. After the grandeur of New Vetus, this is rather underwhelming. I used to think the outer areas in the ursu cities were randomly laid out and lacked the uniformity that defined the central New Vetus cities, but this is on a whole other level. Kelton lacks any order at all.
Only the main road through Kelton appears defined and even then we must swerve and wedge our way through the street of rusting metal and shoddy brickwork. Street tenders build stalls in front of one another, as if fighting for space at the forefront of the main road, all the while leaving less to travel through.
As we travel the road, we come across a man dressed similarly to the soldiers of the army from a few days ago. He wears a colourful mix of greens and purples as opposed to the orange and red of the soldiers. The man’s hair is the whitest I’d seen so far. That means he is rather important, right?
The colourful man stands by as four men wearing the same armour as the guards of this caravan destroy a number of small stalls that line the road. The men destroy each one they come across until the space in front of the brickwork buildings is clear. Neither stall owners nor their wares are anywhere to be found.
The destruction left behind the guards reaches far down the street. Much of the wood, tarp and metal is ignored, left in piles beside the storefronts.
I assume those street stalls are illegal here. But it is strange for so many to litter the streets if they are actively knocking them down.
About a thirty metres past the colourful man and destroyed stands, I come across several albanic rebuilding the stalls. My head turns to see the guards behind us still destroying the stalls, and my jaw drops. They are doing this while still in view of the ones who destroyed the stalls in the first place. I doubt it’s been even five minutes since they were knocked down.
Each of the people working the stalls wear coverings over their heads. The clamber of the stalls being built clutter the air almost as much as the stalls strew the street. Each of the men and women seem wholly unfazed by the situation, chatting and laughing amongst themselves as if this is a daily occurrence.
Seeing their headgear, I realise I need to get myself something like that. Well, if they are hiding their hair as well, they’ll be more willing to help, right?
Taking a few strides away from the caravan, I approach one of the men who forego building a stall and just lay down a cloth on the ground.
“Excuse me, where can I get one of those things to cover my hair?” I ask the man, noticing the dirty looks sent his way by his neighbours still building their stalls.
The man laughs, whether at my question or at his neighbours, I’m not sure. “My, young lady, we don’t use these to cover out hair. Not at all! These are stylish expressions of our inner artisan. Don’t let anyone tell you different.” He laughs again. “Now I can give you your very own quality expression piece for your petite head as cheap as twenty-four thousand gid.” He brings out a white cloth hat from a bag at his side, presenting it before me.
“Gid? What’s that?” I ask. Hopefully, it’s something small, thousands of them will take a lot of space otherwise.
The man raises an eyebrow at me and sighs in disappointment. The other albanics around now openly jeer and laugh, the man just takes it in stride. “Well, gid is our currency. It is money. You need it to buy things.”
“Oh, Okay. How do I get gid?”
“For you? You can get it from your parents. That or work for it.”
“How do I work for it?” the first option isn’t exactly available to me.
“By getting a job.” He looks at me as if what he says is obvious, but I stare back, unsure of what he means.
He sighs, “you know, you do something for someone and they give you gid for the help. That or you sell things for gid. Then, you can use that gid to buy food and items for yourself.”
“Oh, okay, that makes sense, I think.” I didn’t understand it, didn’t that just add an unnecessary step in things? Our tribe didn’t need it. The ursu didn’t need it. So why does Zadok?
“Do you have any work for me?” I ask, if he wants me to work for the hat, I’m fine with it.
“Kid, even if I had work for you, you’d need to show your hair. Would you be okay with that?”
I shake my head and pull my hood lower over my face.
“Yea, I didn’t think so. How about this then, trade me your dad’s jacket and I’ll give you both this hat and a handful of gid? It’s warm out, you can’t possibly not be getting hot in that thing.” He says with a smile that reminds me far too much of Gloria.
“No. I’m not giving it,” I say as I look back down the road. The caravan is almost out of sight now and I’d rather not lose them. I don’t want to stay in this town.
As I walk away, I hear the man’s voice behind me. “You know where to find me.”
I’d rather not give away my friend’s jacket. Especially not for something to cover my hair. The jacket is far more important to my safety than that, and it’s already shown that it’s good enough to cover my hair, anyway.
I run to catch up to the caravan and found that the caravan’s guards have taken to knocking down the stalls that block the way for the large wagons. Even the rear guards decide they want a part of the fun, leaving the rear carriages open to a number of blatant thieves pinching things from the back. The man sitting with the reins to the pholo attempts, in vain, to scare them off.
Skirting the burgled carriages, I approach the front of the caravan where a plot of land is being cleared to make room for the carriages. The pholos are taken to a stable beside a building that looks of far better quality than any of the others I’d seen in Zadok so far. As the carriages are bundled together, the guards make a perimeter to prevent the thieves from approaching. Gavin and the rest of the caravan members that aren’t dressed as guards group together before entering the well maintained building. As I approach, I can see that while much better than the surroundings, it didn’t come close to the standard of stonework that goes into structures in New Vetus.
I follow close before the door closes behind them and find myself in a small entry room. Well, it isn’t small, but with all the people from the caravan cramming within, it feels tiny.
Gavin is at the front talking to a lady sitting behind a large desk. After a few back and forth that I can’t hear over the hum of conversation from the rest of the group, the lady stands up. She walks around the table and inspects each of our group. Not asking questions or inspecting them in depth, simply looking at each of them as she finds no problem.
As she reaches me, I figure out what she is looking for.
“Please remove your hood.” Of course it is the hair again.
“Um, can I… not?” I ask, hopeful of the slight chance she will agree.
“Just do it.” She says, her tone turning impatient.
Should I just leave? But where can I go? I assume they are going to sleep in this place and I want to join them. Slowly, I pull my fingers under the hood and bring it down.
The woman winces, like she bit something foul. She turns to Gavin, but I don’t know what kind of expression she’s making, but looking at Gavin and the rest of the group, most of them have the same reaction as the lady. A few look at me in disgust like the first guards I met, but most seem sympathetic.
“She is not with us,” Gavin says and no one contradicts him, even though I know most of them had seen me.
“Huh? Yes I was.” That seems to flare a bit of anger across several faces.
…maybe I should be careful here.
“I am sorry, but this establishment does not allow those below a certain purity. Please leave.” The lady once again turns to face me, her impassive expression returning.
With everyone staring intently at me, I know I can’t argue. I have no friends here. I flip my hood back over my head and hurry outside. Will it be better if I just out myself as an áed? No, they haven’t been aggressive yet, just… unfair. They have a deep-seated hatred for the ursu, but does that extend to other races too? For now, I think it is best to remain hidden. The treatment is saddening, but they haven’t hurt me yet, so it will be fine.
Now I need to figure out where I’m going to sleep tonight.
I tried to stick by Gavin’s side as we travelled. He was the one Finn introduced me to, so I thought I should stay with him. He put that notion to end rather quick. Any time I tried to talk to him, he would act like he hadn’t heard me. It didn’t take me long to realise he didn’t want me hanging around, so I gave him the space that he wanted.
I still have no idea of what Zadok will be like. Is it going to be the same as New Vetus? Wanting to learn more, I pull my hood tight before approaching a woman sitting on one of the rearmost carriages. She’s holding a rope leading to a strange four-legged animal. Her clothes are thinner than the leather the guards around the caravan wear, but as she doesn’t have a cudgel of her own, she probably isn’t expected to fight.
“What is this creature?” I ask, keeping my distance in case the animal becomes aggressive. It’s a quadruped, like dingoes and fennec foxes, but looks nothing alike.
“You’ve never seen a pholo before?” She looks down at me, surprised.
“No.”
“Hmm, well, they are smaller, fatter and slower cousins of the horse, lazier too.” She pauses for a moment before moving to the side of her seat, patting beside herself, “why don’t you join me?”
“Thank you,” I say as I climb onto the carriage next to her. This is kinda nice, being carried around by pholo would have made travel for my tribe so convenient. Uncle sometimes let me ride on his wagon, but that only ever happened when I was exhausted.
“It’s odd that you’ve never seen a pholo before. Where are you from?” she keeps her attention forward as she asks.
I watch the pholo trod along on its stubby legs, pulling the carriage and both of us along with ease. The wheels almost glide along the well-worn path.
“I escaped from New Vetus.”
Her eyes widen, and her attention snaps back to me. “No way! It must have been horrible.” She turns her head, glancing between the other carriages. “Are you alone?”
At my nod, she returns a pitying glance.
“Well, I’m sure things will get much better from now on. The Zadok Kingdom is a far better country than anything those barbaric ursu could build. I’m Bianca, by the way, what’s your name?” she asks.
“Solvei,” I answer. “How long will it take to get there?”
“We should get to Kelton before dark.”
“Oh? That’s close!” I’m not used to places being within a few days trek of each other. Most of the time, it takes over a week of travel to get to other places. If it wasn’t for the railway in New Vetus, I’m sure it would have taken months to travel from Fisross to Morne.
“Yeah, it is. But Kelton is big, it’ll take the caravan a week to pass through. Serron is other side of the wall after that. Are you travelling to Serron?” Bianca asks.
“I don’t know. Anywhere but New Vetus seemed good, but I’m not sure where else I can go.” I say honestly.
“Ah. Well, you definitely don’t want to stop in Kelton, it’s not a good place to be. I’d say go a bit further than Serron and reach Ashon. There are a lot more opportunities there.”
I consider her words, do I want to stop in Ashon and see if life will work out there or continue north like Finn said I should?
“Did you always live in Vetus?” Bianca asks.
“Yeah, I lived near Morne with my mum,” I lie. “What’s Zadok like?” I try to turn the conversation away from my past. I can’t kid myself, I am not a good liar. If they ask questions, I might be in trouble.
“Well, it’s got its problems, that’s for sure. But what place doesn’t? It can be difficult for families like mine to find opportunities for work. But family is always there to help one another, no matter how hard things become. Oh, and the food is great.”
Yeah, family is always there for each other.
Apparently noticing my souring mood, Bianca realises her words. “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I’m sure you’ll be adopted into a great family when make it to the city. For a kid as cute as you, I’m sure you’ve got gorgeous…” She reaches to my hood and pulls it back as she speaks.
It is obvious the moment she sees my hair for the first time, her eyes widen and she looks around as if checking if anyone else sees.
In a hushed voice, she speaks, “I can’t be seen with you. I’m sorry. Please get off. I’m so sorry.” Her face contorts in a mix of guilt and fear. Her eyes flicker left and right, unable to hold eye contact anymore.
I freeze for a moment, unable to comprehend this change. After my initial interaction with the fort guards, I’d assumed my darker hair disgusted them, but this reaction isn’t the same. Bianca acts like she is afraid to speak with me, although it’s not me she’s afraid of, but other people? Will others judge her for simply interacting with me?
“Please, please. Go, my family can’t afford to lose any more.” She pleads with me.
I jump off her carriage. The tightening in my chest is hard to ignore, I enjoyed talking with Bianca — as brief as it had been — so to be cut off so soon hurt, even if I should have expected nothing more. Casting my gaze down on the ground, trying to hide my hair even more, I scamper off.
“Solvei.” I stop as Bianca calls my name. Turning around, I look up at her. She’s struggling to get her words out, but I hardly care at the moment. “Good luck. I’m sorry,” she says. Feeling insulted and hurt, I turn my head from her and continue to the back of the caravan.
Finn warned me, but I’d hoped I could still make friends, or at least have a conversation. I shouldn’t feel like this. I talked to her for not even five minutes. After Gloria, I thought I wouldn’t let anyone else in as easily.
No, it’s not that I trusted her or anything. I was simply happy to talk to someone again. It’s stupid. I’m stupid. This is a good warning for me, there are more ways for someone to hurt you than the way Gloria had. Bianca didn’t want to hurt me, but she still rejected me, knowing it will hurt me.
I fall into a trot a few paces behind the last of the carriages. A couple of guards walk behind me, but I keep out of their way. My head stays downturn as I watch the wheel roll ahead of me. I’ll hide myself for the remainder of the trip; even if I’d much rather talk with those around me, I’ve learnt my lesson.
Kelton is disgusting. It looks like a junk pile tipped over and they labelled it a city. After the grandeur of New Vetus, this is rather underwhelming. I used to think the outer areas in the ursu cities were randomly laid out and lacked the uniformity that defined the central New Vetus cities, but this is on a whole other level. Kelton lacks any order at all.
Only the main road through Kelton appears defined and even then we must swerve and wedge our way through the street of rusting metal and shoddy brickwork. Street tenders build stalls in front of one another, as if fighting for space at the forefront of the main road, all the while leaving less to travel through.
As we travel the road, we come across a man dressed similarly to the soldiers of the army from a few days ago. He wears a colourful mix of greens and purples as opposed to the orange and red of the soldiers. The man’s hair is the whitest I’d seen so far. That means he is rather important, right?
The colourful man stands by as four men wearing the same armour as the guards of this caravan destroy a number of small stalls that line the road. The men destroy each one they come across until the space in front of the brickwork buildings is clear. Neither stall owners nor their wares are anywhere to be found.
The destruction left behind the guards reaches far down the street. Much of the wood, tarp and metal is ignored, left in piles beside the storefronts.
I assume those street stalls are illegal here. But it is strange for so many to litter the streets if they are actively knocking them down.
About a thirty metres past the colourful man and destroyed stands, I come across several albanic rebuilding the stalls. My head turns to see the guards behind us still destroying the stalls, and my jaw drops. They are doing this while still in view of the ones who destroyed the stalls in the first place. I doubt it’s been even five minutes since they were knocked down.
Each of the people working the stalls wear coverings over their heads. The clamber of the stalls being built clutter the air almost as much as the stalls strew the street. Each of the men and women seem wholly unfazed by the situation, chatting and laughing amongst themselves as if this is a daily occurrence.
Seeing their headgear, I realise I need to get myself something like that. Well, if they are hiding their hair as well, they’ll be more willing to help, right?
Taking a few strides away from the caravan, I approach one of the men who forego building a stall and just lay down a cloth on the ground.
“Excuse me, where can I get one of those things to cover my hair?” I ask the man, noticing the dirty looks sent his way by his neighbours still building their stalls.
The man laughs, whether at my question or at his neighbours, I’m not sure. “My, young lady, we don’t use these to cover out hair. Not at all! These are stylish expressions of our inner artisan. Don’t let anyone tell you different.” He laughs again. “Now I can give you your very own quality expression piece for your petite head as cheap as twenty-four thousand gid.” He brings out a white cloth hat from a bag at his side, presenting it before me.
“Gid? What’s that?” I ask. Hopefully, it’s something small, thousands of them will take a lot of space otherwise.
The man raises an eyebrow at me and sighs in disappointment. The other albanics around now openly jeer and laugh, the man just takes it in stride. “Well, gid is our currency. It is money. You need it to buy things.”
“Oh, Okay. How do I get gid?”
“For you? You can get it from your parents. That or work for it.”
“How do I work for it?” the first option isn’t exactly available to me.
“By getting a job.” He looks at me as if what he says is obvious, but I stare back, unsure of what he means.
He sighs, “you know, you do something for someone and they give you gid for the help. That or you sell things for gid. Then, you can use that gid to buy food and items for yourself.”
“Oh, okay, that makes sense, I think.” I didn’t understand it, didn’t that just add an unnecessary step in things? Our tribe didn’t need it. The ursu didn’t need it. So why does Zadok?
“Do you have any work for me?” I ask, if he wants me to work for the hat, I’m fine with it.
“Kid, even if I had work for you, you’d need to show your hair. Would you be okay with that?”
I shake my head and pull my hood lower over my face.
“Yea, I didn’t think so. How about this then, trade me your dad’s jacket and I’ll give you both this hat and a handful of gid? It’s warm out, you can’t possibly not be getting hot in that thing.” He says with a smile that reminds me far too much of Gloria.
“No. I’m not giving it,” I say as I look back down the road. The caravan is almost out of sight now and I’d rather not lose them. I don’t want to stay in this town.
As I walk away, I hear the man’s voice behind me. “You know where to find me.”
I’d rather not give away my friend’s jacket. Especially not for something to cover my hair. The jacket is far more important to my safety than that, and it’s already shown that it’s good enough to cover my hair, anyway.
I run to catch up to the caravan and found that the caravan’s guards have taken to knocking down the stalls that block the way for the large wagons. Even the rear guards decide they want a part of the fun, leaving the rear carriages open to a number of blatant thieves pinching things from the back. The man sitting with the reins to the pholo attempts, in vain, to scare them off.
Skirting the burgled carriages, I approach the front of the caravan where a plot of land is being cleared to make room for the carriages. The pholos are taken to a stable beside a building that looks of far better quality than any of the others I’d seen in Zadok so far. As the carriages are bundled together, the guards make a perimeter to prevent the thieves from approaching. Gavin and the rest of the caravan members that aren’t dressed as guards group together before entering the well maintained building. As I approach, I can see that while much better than the surroundings, it didn’t come close to the standard of stonework that goes into structures in New Vetus.
I follow close before the door closes behind them and find myself in a small entry room. Well, it isn’t small, but with all the people from the caravan cramming within, it feels tiny.
Gavin is at the front talking to a lady sitting behind a large desk. After a few back and forth that I can’t hear over the hum of conversation from the rest of the group, the lady stands up. She walks around the table and inspects each of our group. Not asking questions or inspecting them in depth, simply looking at each of them as she finds no problem.
As she reaches me, I figure out what she is looking for.
“Please remove your hood.” Of course it is the hair again.
“Um, can I… not?” I ask, hopeful of the slight chance she will agree.
“Just do it.” She says, her tone turning impatient.
Should I just leave? But where can I go? I assume they are going to sleep in this place and I want to join them. Slowly, I pull my fingers under the hood and bring it down.
The woman winces, like she bit something foul. She turns to Gavin, but I don’t know what kind of expression she’s making, but looking at Gavin and the rest of the group, most of them have the same reaction as the lady. A few look at me in disgust like the first guards I met, but most seem sympathetic.
“She is not with us,” Gavin says and no one contradicts him, even though I know most of them had seen me.
“Huh? Yes I was.” That seems to flare a bit of anger across several faces.
…maybe I should be careful here.
“I am sorry, but this establishment does not allow those below a certain purity. Please leave.” The lady once again turns to face me, her impassive expression returning.
With everyone staring intently at me, I know I can’t argue. I have no friends here. I flip my hood back over my head and hurry outside. Will it be better if I just out myself as an áed? No, they haven’t been aggressive yet, just… unfair. They have a deep-seated hatred for the ursu, but does that extend to other races too? For now, I think it is best to remain hidden. The treatment is saddening, but they haven’t hurt me yet, so it will be fine.
Now I need to figure out where I’m going to sleep tonight.
