//Author Note: Another perspective on events: Rotten Æther | Scribble Hub//

 

Muddy streets of old cobblestone, worn down through years of use, separate buildings that have been left in a state of ruin. No real efforts have been made at repair while the locals living here have made only the most rudimentary attempts to protect themselves from the tortures of the sun and the rain. Even in the shadow of the castle walls, I can find only ruins.

There are hints of something greater in the stones, even collapsed as they are, remnants of the efforts invested into them. The gold that was once spent to craft the stores that had once stood here. Stonecraft was a serious art to those who shaped this street once upon a time, here and there I can pick out the finer details of some incomplete façade that’s now long lost and buried, or sometimes I will pass by the feet of a statue that stand in remembrance of what’s lost.

Shops here would once have drawn the eyes of even nobles, but no longer.

I can still recall how father was changed by the war, we would rarely ever leave the estate after that, and he would at times criticise the king and his weakness in granting the northerners favour in their treaty. Were all the other nobles like him?

Focused so much on vengeance against the northerners that they couldn’t even care to rebuild what was lost in the war? Are these ruins even from the war or are these wounds older still, I can’t quite tell…

In the shadows of the castle walls, we crawl about in the ruins, guided by a runaway nobleman who has found faith in himself at last. A cruel man that wishes to escape his despair through religion. A selfish man that wants to be loved.

I glance up at the castle and the walls crowned by guards unmatched in power and skill. It is a bulwark that holds the tide of commoners and noble alike from those who stand further above us all. The king and his royal family. They’re seen only rarely, on the occasions when the nobility is called to the royal hall for events. Even then we only see what they choose to show us, and I’m not sure I know of anyone who has seen the true insides of these walls.

“There was a slaughter here a few generations back, did you know?” Lysis says, looking up at the towering walls as he hops over the rubble.

“The death of the heart, they called it,” Vael nods, unusually serious for once. “I wasn’t here for it, but I saw some of the aftermath.”

“A slaughter?” I ask, Belle perks up in similar interest. “Why haven’t I heard of it?”

“It’s not the sort of thing that would reach your cotton-stuffed ears,” Lysis chuckles. “People don’t like to talk about it. Not those living in the castle and not those living on the streets. We all like to pretend that it didn’t happen at all. It’s almost as if everyone just wants to forget.”

“Not anymore,” Merry shakes his head. “I’ve been hearing about it more and more often these days. People come to me to learn the truth of what has happened, both then and now. They are drawing parallels between the events.”

“What is it?” Belle asks, “What’s with this slaughter, and how does it compare with things today?”

“The common people of this city are not well off, you already understand,” Merry says, as Lysis leads us into a section of ruins uninhabited by the homeless. “Everyone here is suffering, and that suffering is only growing worse by the day. So, the people made an appeal to the throne, they called for help. For food that doesn’t taste of rot, for a home that doesn’t leak in the smallest rains, and for water that doesn’t taste of muck and piss.

“Yet, the king holds no audience with a common man. So, they appealed to the lesser nobility, who would respond with armed guards, cutting down men and women without any shame.”

The deeper we travel into the ruins, the quieter it gets.

“There’s a tunnel here,” Lysis says, walking into a half-collapsed home, and rummaging about in the stones. “It’s alarmed, but there’s a trick to getting past it.”

He snaps open a small trapdoor before I can even ask him how long he expects this to take.

“Now, use those enchanted cloaks, they’ll make it difficult for anyone to focus on you, especially helpful in the shadows,” Lysis orders us. “The slippers will hide your steps, but when we get to the other end, you can’t make a sound.”

We crawl into a dark tunnel, the head of the path is so low that I can hardly stand without brushing up against the ceiling, and as Lewark lowers the trapdoor behind us we’re trapped in near-complete darkness. A pure and welcoming sort of shadow that clings to my arms and legs, ready to obey me. If it weren’t for the faith surrounding me, I would be quite comfortable down here where the light is but a distant lie.

“Follow me carefully, but don’t make any lights. It’ll set off the alarms,” Lysis says. “There are false paths we don’t want to go down. Trapped, but not lethal. It’d take a few days to get the guards down here to save us, and then I’d have to try and convince them that you’re with me. A difficult, but not impossible prospect.”

“Merry, finish your story,” Belle pleas to the man, pressing her hands together in some strange expression of fervour. The more time that carries us apart the more of a stranger she feels to me.

“There isn’t much left of the story,” Merry whispers, his voice haunting in the darkness. “The people had had enough. There was no longer any hope for them, and to leave this city would see them killed by the monsters that roam through the lands.

“So, they protested. They made such a fuss that they couldn’t be ignored, striking down the merchants that would deliver goods for the nobles and royals, while yelling and screaming at all hours of the day, and tossing foul things over the walls of the castle. The criminals throughout the city stood beside the people, the thugs and strongmen holding back the guards and knights, at least as much as they could.

“I do not think the king ever heard their pleas. The knights and nobles had had enough, and whether it was guided by some cruel leader, or simply the actions of one knight feeding onto the next like a viral madness, the slaughter began.

“One in four people are said to have died that day,” Merry says. “Yet, not a knight or noble among them. The bones are buried under the foundations of our homes, forced below the ground by the knights when the rot became too much. Yet, for all the blood that littered the streets, all the screams that became silent. No one knows if the king or anyone in the castle even knows that it happened, the rest of us try to forget.”

“They don’t know,” Lysis whispers. “They hardly know anything at all…”

His words echo through these dark tunnels, and we all imagine the scene, drawing out the implications little by little. It’s deeply unsettling that such a slaughter could be simply forgotten and lost even to history, spoken of only in rumours. What else has happened here that we do not know about, and will our own tragedies be forgotten just the same?

There truly is no hope to be found here, only more misery. Torturous suffering which will end in tragic death.

This city truly is the perfect home for vampires who feed on this pain.

“No wonder the people here welcomed our visitors from the north,” Vael chuckles darkly. “The invading army was kinder to them than their own nobles and royals.”

“The commoners truly welcomed the northern armies?” I ask, still struggling to believe it.

Vael smiles back at me, her fake tail flicking about in the darkness.

“Only the walls of the castle were properly guarded. The nobles ran, and the commoners made peace with their situation. It wasn’t perfect, there were plenty of terrible things done on both sides, but that’s the thing with both the northerners and the commoners of this city. They’re used to it.

“A little murder here and there, thievery, and drunken assaults, it’s all a bit of roughhousing between young brothers, really. The murderers are hanged, the thieves lose a hand, and everyone with the coin for it gets a drink by the fire of a night, to wake up in the morning with a headache. They get on with life.”

I don’t entirely understand what it is she’s describing, but it sounds more like something from some absurd fairytale. A description of one of the many hells, where death and hatred is simply a common reality shared between neighbours. I still don’t understand a thing about the people of this city.

Running my fingers along the stone wall under a series of faint marks, I read a few words carved carefully into the cold stone. Directions. Warning for the traps. Explanations for how to get to your destination, all clearly written in some marker that glows incredibly faintly, such that none of the others can see.

“Lysis,” I call ahead. “This path, it’s meant for vampires. It’s… if we cross them…”

“Ah, well, maybe we should hurry?”

“And stay silent,” I suggest, “Our words would carry far down here.”

The others nod, though I’m the only one who can see it. Their expressions are hidden by the hoods of the cloaks that we were made to wear, equipment much too rich for us, but gathered by the young royal. He has strange connections, and I do not wish to know why it is that he has access to such tools as this. Even though he helps us now, I cannot forget what he intended to do to Belle and I. Something he’s likely done to others before us.

I will never like this man, and my trust in him is limited.

The winding tunnel carries us on for quite some time twisting and turning through the earth, rising and falling at times as well, though there are frequently new directions marked on the walls, sometimes even maps laid out for us. It’s much too friendly for a proper secret tunnel, but I suppose that’s all too natural considering that this place is meant to be without light. If this tunnel is trapped as Lysis has described, then I suspect that it is only kind to those like me, who are granted perfect senses.

“Just here,” Lysis whispers low, as we reach the exit. If the markings are to be believed, then this will lead us to the garden shed. I imagine it should be relatively quiet there at this time of day.

Though I have many questions, I refrain from making any further sound, as we climb up a ladder carved into the stone wall.

“Not that one,” I reach out a hand and stop Lysis from touching at a mark that’s labelled with a warning. An alarm. Æther currents that when broken will set off a light or ring a bell to warn some sentry of our location.

“Ah, didn’t know about that one,” Lysis grumbles, rushing up after confirming that there’s nothing more. The trapdoor eases open lightly, not making even a whisper of a squeak, and I am swift to follow him up into the wide room above.

The closed space, made of thick stone walls, is filled with all sorts of strange things, all neatly organised into place and illuminated by magical lights carved into the ceiling. Nearly everything is carved with æther channels, clearly magical in design and yet their purpose remains entirely alien to me.

“What is this?” I ask, running a finger along the æther channels in the large machine that is docked against the wall. It’s the size of a small horse or cow, and I can’t imagine what it’s meant to be used for, especially in a royal garden.

“I once asked one of my cousins who works as a groundsman,” Lysis shrugs. “It rolls around the fields, drilling aether channels into the earth. Soil’s not a good medium, the channels burn out and collapse, so they need to be freshly drilled every morning.”

His cousin works as a groundsman?

“Æther channels in the gardens?” I ask.

“Helps the vegetables grow,” Lysis shrugs, giving Merry a helping hand out of the tunnels. “Hurry along. We’re doing something dangerous, remember?”

“Yes, yes, we remember,” Lewark says, climbing up with only a small stumble. “Now let’s get this equipment installed and see if we can’t spy on these noble kids.”

“Glad that I’m not the one paying for those things,” Lysis laughs. “You’re not getting those things back, you know?”

“I’m aware, but they’re made to be lost,” Lewark grumbles, fumbling with some of the enchanted stone slips that he’s been carrying with him. “I’m assured that they’ll work, Kai was quite confident in them. Now let’s hurry along and place them somewhere important. Maybe we can stuff one under the cushions on the throne.”

“Eh, I guess, but I doubt it would be that useful. Come on, we’ll be safer going this way,” Lysis guides us to a door in the side, with a wave of his hand the stone door slides away, rolling on magic. “Remember to stay close to the shadows and stay quiet,” he says, leading us out into the yard.

The tall castle wall looms right over us, though it’s not nearly as important a sight as the gardens themselves.

A noble’s garden is a place for beauty. It is where one will find the most magnificent flowers, tended to with care. It is a place where visual beauty comes before function, and yet…

Vegetables.

Fruits.

There is nothing I can put a name to, but I’m sure that I’ve seen something like it before.

“Is that an elvish garden?” Lewark asks, looking at the roots and the small red fruits growing from vines.

“Ah, sort of,” Lysis shrugs. “Now, be quiet.”

The people that I see in the distance are unusual in so many ways that I can’t even understand what it is that I’m seeing. No one is dressed in the proper clothes of servants, rather they are instead dressed in something stuck between what a commoner and a noble would wear.

A man pulling fruit from the vine wears white cloth without any care that he might stain it, looking up and waving toward Lysis who waves back.

What is this place? What sort of people are these? This is nothing at all like what we see at the few balls held by the royalty.

It’s… an unfamiliar world.

Something that doesn’t belong in this city.

“The backs of the knights…” Lysis grumbles. “Always bothered me that all we could see is the backs of the knights.”

I grit my teeth to keep the questions from flooding out, but it’s a terrible struggle.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

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