On what seemed like the complete opposite side of the city,
Shroud had found himself in the poorest part of the city. Heavy brick had been
chipped away for new openings, the rusted pipes busted open so that they could
be sealed up into units. Walkways above had been dismantled as the population
here grew and new sub floors were added, with subsequent waist high doors.
Crates were lined with sturdy fabrics, most only baring a striking resemblance
to their original form. There was one thing about this place that was more
different than the concentration of people here. It was the smell. It was
faintly pleasant, like sweets or freshly
baked bread. It was fresh that was the real distinct feature. Shroud looked
around and caught the scent. He looked over towards the crumbling walls laced
with vines. The roots themselves had latched onto hook fixture, dirt grey veins were netted over by white fibres that
encircled the wrought iron. These black roots twisted downwards till then
formed a stem, from then downwards towards the floor it grew greener but paler
still. Its leaves ghost like, with its flowers of rusted browns and golds. It was however not the
flowers giving off the smell, rather the tube like holes in the base of the
stem of each leaf. He brushed his finger against a petal, it was cold to the
touch. He tried with the leaf, it snapped easily and fell to the floor. He had
become distracted and startled when a group of children bounded beside him
giggling at him. He swiftly turned around, hoping they would scream and run.
They didn't.
The two girls couldn't be more than four and eleven or
twelve respectively, with the boy somewhere in the middle. Their clothes
reminded him of a fashion that was in style when he walked the roof tiles.
Feathers. Anything and everything either had them, were made into them,
embroidered or gilded with them. Unfortunately any material form gathered the
dirt pretty quickly, and these kids, as they were playing were constantly
malting gummed up feathers and soot and brick fragments. The kids seemed fascinated
by Shrouds appearance in himself. A nondescript gentleman wearing the tattered
garments of a once fashionable lord. They played court to him, bowing and curtsying,
all the pleasantries he had once been used to, a memory he smiled at. He knelt
down and asked where Neave lived. The kids pointed the way but refused to leave
his side.
He walked past an old woman holding a baby in her arms,
bundled in as much cloth as a baby could possibly need and more. She smiled at
him with her wrinkled eyes and nodded to him as he passed with the children in
tow. He took this moment to find out more about Neave, if she lived here, what
she was like, who she lived with, her habits ect. He introduced himself in an
educated manner and cadence that angered the old woman. She accused him of
being linked to a previous lord that had employed Neave. After Shroud explained
as best he could to her his position she calmed a little. She then apologised
for her outburst. The old woman explained that Neave's previous employer took
advantage of her at a young age, to which she bore her fist child Maeron. He
had protected her while she was pregnant by sending her away to Jyrek. Years
later she fell pregnant again, this time however not by her employer but by
someone she loved, and who she thought loved her. After she began to show, the
lord became to embarrassed to have her in any situation he was near, this then worsted
to his family, his friends, and eventually she was tossed down here, still pregnant,
with her child with her. She explained now that it had been around seven years
now and her son, Jolro, was now being looked after by his sister while Neave
looks for work. Shroud swallowed the truth as bitterly as it was to hear. He
looked down at his feat. The kids surged back up to him and pulled him down the
walkway. Although now he refused to take
part in any of their games, their constant laughter and shouting made him smile
a little, it made him feel young even though he was young man himself. That was
until the youngest girl started crying.
She seemed to have fallen over something and was lying face
down on the dirty sheets that covered the boardwalk. Her, what Shroud presumed,
brother and sister rushed over. He looked around to see if any help would assist
but the walls here were darker than the rest, a sign that even the slums have
their own slums. He walked over to the girl and attempted to assist. The young
girl was crying out, although for a split second she seemed to rise up, in Shroud's
opinion, although she till laid flat. She was swaddled by her brother and
sister and swiftly taken into a nearby doorway. The children urging Shroud to
carry on. He pushed the issue after they had gone indoors. The oldest came out
and asked for him to leave; her sister would be okay, she was just having a
nose bleed and was startled. The girl closed the door promptly after. Shroud, a
little confused, looked around, trying to remember where they had pointed him. He
spotted on the top of the archway to the door, drops of blood. He looked down,
expecting there to be spots on the floor from the little girl but no, the ones
above his own head where no doubt hers. He shook his head not wanting to think
of it further. After a few missed turnings he found a tiny courtyard, or a dead
end with three mouldy walls.
Shroud knocked and knocked again. A gruff gentleman, mid forties,
hair short and neat compared to his own clothes. A scar cleaved his left eye
and his cheek. It forced him to squint most of the time while talking or concentrating,
and Shroud found this a little off-putting. He introduced himself again,
forgetting to remove his high-spire graces and was again met with rebuke. After
a quick and more succinct explanation, the man still refused him entry. She was
to leave her kids for what could be months, she needed time to make preparations
and say goodbye. Shroud felt stupid trying to peruse this. He questioned
himself after he left the slums, why did he feel the need to make sure she was telling
the truth? Was it her beauty? Her suddenly arrival? He stumbled mid thought
into a guard.
A silver coin fell from Shrouds fumbling fingers, a habit
had had gotten used to down here while idling walking. It was good protection,
almost like the wards the sand sculptors in the upper merchant class would
sell. Nobody up there could tell if their talisman worked, there was never any
occasion for its use, down here though, this habit had proven itself time and
time again. This time, the coin was picked up by the guard and he apologised
and pocketed the coin. He formally gave access Shroud to what appeared to him,
to be asset retrieval, for clients who failed their payments. The operation was
swift and well oiled. The sign of high ranking Silver Palm member. This peaked
Shrouds interest, and approached a gentleman with salt and pepper hair, flat
functional attire made of bone and hides, with the occasional linen lining. His
handlebar moustache, bushed over his mouth so that you couldn't see his lips
move. The same could nearly be said for his eyes under his brow. His skin
however, where his purple hued veins would run, gilded flecks passed under the
skin, a tattoo made of flowing golden ink.
Shroud attempted pleasantries. The man was calm, but
obviously startled. There was a brief moment of confusion, Shroud told the man he used to be part of this group
when he was younger. However this group was the salt and pepper man's group and
had been since inception. Shroud in a an attempt to smooth over what seemed
like a conversation going south passed over another silver coin. The man raised
his bushy eyebrows. This raised confusing warnings in the man's head and he called
out for an assistant. The man continued pleasantries with Shroud, noticing the wild
accomplishments he boasted were being swallowed without question by this
imposter. Two burly gentlemen swiftly manhandled Shroud into the shop. In the
backroom was a safe; vertical, with just enough room for one person to stand and
if slim enough, even bend down to the bottom drawers of the walls of storage.
All but a few were busted open. Before Shroud could even act the vault door was
replaced and from outside. Suddenly there was chanting, alongside the banging
of metal and the sparking of electricity.
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