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1011. Sceneries Passing By
🕑 Added 2025-05-31 09:59:21 +0000 UTCThe crop fields of H5 shrunk in the distance.
The wild plains of H6 came to pass. The giant hill where Cer had first opened her heart to Frost flashed by.
Then came the forests of H7, and the beautiful scenic lakes of H8.
Territories of prestigious families emerged as they passed a great river that stretched as far as the escarpment of H10. Decorated manors boasting incredible landscapes, with trimmed hedges and statues of the current hierarch granted a glimpse of their splendor.
Nobles. The political backbone of the common folk. They were islands of sovereignty scattered across various Cities. Each City held a Sector dedicated to prestigious families, be it from Ateliers, foreign nations, or founding members who contributed to the development of the Nex Megalopolis.
Only a tenth was Atelier related, much less partnered. The vast majority served as sponsors who paid Adventurers, students and whoever they deemed worthy to deal with their personal or familial requests.
Often, vastly powerful Adventurers were sponsored by the strongest family.
Most Branches also served as an extension of the House.
In such cases, these family – who would possess immense localize control – would find themselves away from the designated Sectors, which to them would appear more like a pigpen than a paradise.
For instance, the Arista Family of C7 regulated the standards of all coffee-making processes across the City of Clubs.
A joke, Frost initially thought.
But the scale of their operations was surprising. It’s through this one family that hundreds of thousands could safely enjoy coffee. Certain bean-blending and roasting products could also only be produced by the Arista Family.
This was of course thanks to a Gift.
Indeed. Most families reached their level of wealth through attaining a Gift. Without it, most would fall overnight be it through conquest, war, a plague, or an inevitable death. Of course, these Houses were beholden to the rules of the Ateliers.
Their laws only extended as far as their borders. But none could supersede an Atelier Law, much less a law governed by the Head.
Frost couldn’t stop all wars. Even within the Nex Meglaopolis, Syndicates and the Corrupted were a larger threat than any of the Houses. Existing fail safes served to deter war, but it was not perfect.
Therefore, like the Ateliers, there was a Code of Conduct the Families had to abide during wartime.
The first was that it must be formally declared through the Golden Index. Then, the Golden Middle and the Pinky would step in to create binding contracts that would ‘disappear’ those who violated the strict guidelines.
In the event that these were circumvented, usually through proxies, would they incur the direct wrath of the Head.
No one wished for their territory – everything they had built – to be trampled under the talons of the Black Wings.
So far, the previous month had seen at least one House scrubbed off the face of the world by the Black Wings.
They were the first and certainly not the last. The train passed by a long strip of land in H8 where nothing smoldering ruins remained, the remnants of the inevitability of disobeying the Head.
“Brokers worth their weight in the trade were placing bets on a House from the City of Diamonds to be the first to fall.” Horus commented from beside Acedia.
She gazed out the window, awed by the devastation. Goosebumps formed along her arms as she reminisced about a certain event that changed the course of the City of Spades.
“Smells like the City of Spades. It still goes on. And on. And on. I’m surprised there isn’t any collateral. The Talons they wield have incredible piercing capabilities. Could rip a Leviathan to pieces if we’re not careful. Your sisters are something else.”
“They deserve it.” Abigail spoke with indifference. She didn’t spare a thought of the suffering the Black Wings had caused. It was all justified in her mind. “Innocents were taken out of the equation before war broke loose. Any idiot that tried to stay and save face or wanted to live in the glory of their House died punctually at the stroke of midnight.”
“The Golden Index relocates them. Another bold-faced term for a massacre~” Horus smirked.
“Depopulation.” Abigail corrected. “Different from a massacre. If they knew better, then they wouldn’t have called for the remnants of the Blood Letters to pickle their neighbors in wooden barrels. The news ticked off a Raven whose roots come from S8.”
This Raven – not known by name and among one of seven of the most exalted Black Wings – held immense vitriol for those who inflicted extended bodily harm against another person. This was their sole criteria.
There was an urban legend that circulated around the City of Spades called: You Are What You Eat. The saying originated once it was suspected that the meat 80% of the residents of the S8 were devouring human flesh, but did not know where it came from.
There was no livestock to sustain many thousands.
Yet, this source of food came from a great crimson tree that resembled a splayed nervous system.
It so happens that this Raven in question was deeply familiar with this urban legend.
“No mercy for the wicked?”
Abigail glared at the Repenters present with faint tinge of bloodlust.
“None. No recovery missions for this place either. Let their Gift rot. The Ravens agreed to keep it here as a reminder of what happens to people who go against the Head. Ravens reflect our deepest desires. We seek swift retribution.”
Usari’s ears piqued up.
“Usari didn’t even start this time!”
*
The glamorous territories shifted to a vast forest. Fruits of dubious shapes hung from their canopies. Frost had to keep Joy’s eyes closed for most of the trip. But the moments that she was allowed to look–
“Gam…”
–Her glistening eyes would reflect the beauty of the endless festivals, the heart-shaped clouds, and the magical neon lights of the settlements of H9.
The train came to an eventual stop at the clouds turned a shade of orange. Dusk was coming, and it wouldn’t be long before the H9 would come to life.
“Right, it’s a city that doesn’t sleep. This is the Heart of the City of Lust, huh. Arbor.” Frost commented as they took one last glance out of the window.
It was crowded enough out there, and this was during the less active hours of the City of Arbor. Tall buildings much larger than the standard three stories dominated the skylines. It was in this same city where flying was permitted, allowing scantily dressed Dragonkins, Avians and flight-capable races to taxi people across the sprawling city.
Or in most cases, they were used as elevators.
The buildings had an open-air design. The balconies and the interior were one in the same, appearing like terraces rather than floors.
Privacy? What’s that?
Structural stability? Ever heard of magic?
The concept boggled Frost’s mind. Then again, this place was the City of Lust so…
And it’s unique. I like that. Gotta wonder why we’d choose to go here when we can achieve the same thing in our bedrooms. Then again, she did want to purchase stuff. Geez…
Jury’s tail wagged wildly behind her. She had a face that was devoid of thought, causing a unique Status to appear in a blue prompt.
< CONDITION: No Thoughts, Head Empty >
Not all flight-capable people were lewdly dressed.
They wore far more socially acceptable clothing during daylight for example.
But since night was coming, so were the dreaded bikini armor enthusiasts.
“Hehe~!” Jury giggled, practically drooling at whatever dastardly thoughts – or lack thereof – plagued her mind.
“I’m getting chills all of a sudden.” Frost murmured. “We got what, two hours before night fully sets in? Should be enough time.”
She patted Joy’s head. The girl looked up at Frost and tilted her head as imaginary question marks appeared. Joy hadn’t the slightest clue as to what Frost’s intentions were. She was only vaguely aware that she and Jury were going to be going out for a bit.
As clingy as Joy was, she wasn’t truly a child. Cognitively and behavioral? Perhaps. But her experience and life as a Corrupted gave her an idea of the law of maintaining distance. After all, she came from a Corrupted that forced her to separate herself from the common folk.
Those who acknowledged her, who dared to gaze into her eyes, were condemned to a swift death.
“Time for what?” Abigail couldn’t help but ask.
“Take my daughter to see the world.”
Frost casually said, like it was obvious, adding:
“Don’t look so gloomy Joy. Just keep clinging onto us. It’s a chance to see the world from a different perspective. It’d also be cruel of me to let a child I named ‘Joy’ to feel sad.”
Joy’s fluffy ears flapped, and her tail instinctively began thumping on the metal floorboards.
“M-Malgam…!” Her eyes sparkled, and she clasped the air close to her chest with enthusiasm.
“… cough Mama. cough.”
Acedia coughed beneath her breath. It wasn’t audible to the Repenters. But Frost clearly heard this, as did Abigail who couldn’t help but wince.
“I think you understand the difference between the two of you.” Frost sated.
Acedia was no child, though her propensity to kill was like that of a curious animal cub. Unlike Joy, she had lived long enough as a ‘human’ to have witnessed the world in full.
Moreover, the difference between the two was that Joy expressed a genuine wish to change thanks to Frost.
“Change first. Reap the rewards after. But know this– change doesn’t come from simply wishing to become something else.” Frost spoke to the window.
Her reflection stared back.
“That’s no more than wearing persona. The Ego hasn’t changed. The Shadow stays malevolent. The rot in your ‘Self’ festers.”
Acedia’s lips became thin. Her smile was maintained, giving the illusion that Frost was actually speaking to someone else.
As a result, the Repenters believed this was being directed at Abigail, who celebrated the massacre brought along by the Black Wings.
“Like wearing another’s memories.” Acedia tilted her head dangerously. “Abigai. Shall we make our departure?”
“Hmm… Oh, m-me!?” Abigail stammered. “Yes Director!”
“Usari figures we’ll have to stay here. Usari wants Icy to show her where we can ask Dragonids to bring deliveries. Steak with hare drippings!”
Hare drippings, huh.
< Usari is a cloned specimen. She must have an acquired taste or a dependency on ‘hares’ >
< I’ve had a look at her documents. Her ‘shadow’, as it is suspected, is of another hare >
