Chapter III: A City of Hope

The Outlander and Nikk finally make it to the City in the Wastes and meet an old man who helps them out.

Aforemention

-

By now, the boy had realized what he had done, but nothing could be done to stop it. The wind began to howl. The trees began to shake. The birds fled. The water began to rush to the brim, overflowed, and poured out into the land, destroying everything in its wake. The world was reacting in anger with the boy. He had released his emotions into the nature that surrounded him. And it was ready to unleash hell.

            The legends say the boy led the people to higher ground. The great city fell victim to the flood, but the boy saved as many as he could. Alas, some did not make it. But with all his might, the boy released his energy into a barrier to keep the flood at bay. The meadow became an underwater bastion. The world was destroyed.

Chapter 3: A City of Hope

-

The two sat there under the sky for the better half of an hour. The Outlander had calmed down and began to regulate his breathing. When he was somewhat composed, but still staring at the ground, he asked Nikk:

“Who was he?”

“Hmm? Oh, Azubar? His story is a long one.”

“You said you knew him.”

“I did.”

The Outlander looked up at him.

“You were friends?”

“Well, not exactly, no. We fought together a long time ago.”

“Fought together?”

“In the Battle of Ramir’s Crossing somewhere around eight years ago,” Nikk explained. “I realize you’re new to this whole ‘violence’ and ‘death’ thing, but it’s one of the harsh realities of this world. I assume Lazarus restricted you to simply the positive aspects of life. Well, there’s more to the story, Outlander.”

“I want to understand.”

Nikk took in a deep breath and look upward as if he were reminiscing.

“Azubar was a good man,” he began, “Not a great man, but who is? Well, up until eight years ago, he lived in a village called Wasar. It was the home of the Wasar Tribe: one of the twelve families that rule over the Wastes in the East. They include the Wasar family, as well as the Dant family itself. The Dants are the ruling family in Es Sharam; the current patriarch, or “leader,” is King Elser. Similarly, the current patriarch of the Wasar family is a man known as Tzèlar. Tzèlar and Azubar were cousins and Azubar was the Captain of the Legions of Wasar.

“Twelve years ago, Tzèlar’s father and Azubar’s uncle, Gadzar, died prematurely. He was but forty-five years of age. Tzèlar was only nineteen years of age at the time he took over the duties and responsibilities of Patriarch of the Wasar Tribe. Azubar, however, had already been promoted to the position of Captain of the Legions by his uncle, who was very fond of him and his skill as a strategist. Tzèlar, however, was not so fond of his cousin. Nevertheless, the two worked together for four years before tragedy struck.”

Nikk stood up and began to pick up the dead and stack them on top of one another, but continued as he worked:

“See, eight years ago, a large group of bandits entered Wasar territory pillaging everything in their path. Upon their entry, Azubar was notified and ordered an immediate evacuation of the village at the patriarch’s approval. Once Tzèlar approved it, the city was vacated. Azubar then rode out with his legions and confronted the bandits. They were overwhelmed in numbers and nearly totally decimated. Azubar was routed and fell back to the empty village for a final stand. There, he was defeated and only a handful of soldiers escaped with him.

“Even though he was utterly defeated, he was praised by the Wasar civilians as a hero for his valiant efforts. To be fair, he fought until the very end, but he was ultimately crushed. Tzèlar used this, however, to fuel his disdain for his cousin, who he believed his late father had preferred in life. Tzèlar and Azubar led their people to Es Sharam and sought refuge from the king. Elser granted them housing in a nearly vacant district to the south of the city, known for the time they lived there as the Wasar District, now, as it was before they arrived, known as the Grey District.”

He then stopped to turn and face the body of Azubar Wasari. He let out a sigh, briefly closed his eyes, then grabbed the gutted corpse and slung the arm over his shoulder and carried it to the stack of two bodies behind him. Then, while he carried Azubar to his final grave, he continued his tale:

“But anyhow, upon their arrival, I spoke with Azubar to understand who had attacked them. After he described the incursion and the aftermath, I had deduced it was the work of a bandit general I had been studying named Tomil the Lesser. I found that strange since Tomil does not often lead forces unless he is paving the way for his older cousin, Qanto the Elder, to follow. This was chilling to me, as it likely meant the King of the West was planning an assault on Es Sharam. I rushed to alert the king, but he refused to send soldiers out to Wasar for fear of an unnecessary loss of life. Elser had always been apprehensive to go to war or to upset the delicate balance that exists in the Wastes. He feared that by simply raising such a large army and marching it across the Wastes it would send a message of aggressive domination to the allied families that paid tribute to Es Sharam and offered willing fealty to the Banner of Dant. He refused to fight; at least at first.”

He threw the body down and reached down to his belt to grab some small, strange sticks he carried around with him and began to slide them aggressively against one another until, almost miraculously, a small flame was made. He continued:

“At any rate, the Wasar lived in the houses for but a few weeks before becoming restless and appealing to both Azubar and King Elser to raise a force to retake their home. Eventually, Azubar requested an audience with the king and lobbied to Parliament for action to be taken. He made the claim that Wasar was the last line of defense on the western front and, with it, at this time, occupied by the enemy, Es Sharam itself would be at risk for invasion.

“But Es Sharam is a fortress. It is impenetrable from all sides and has never fallen to an invasion for well over a millennium. Elser was not convinced the city would fall. That being said, he believed Tomil and Qanto would inevitably try and people would die defending it; some of which could be civilians. Elser refused to risk that and decided to raise an army.”

After holding the flame for quite some time, almost apprehensive to let go of it, Nikk dropped the burning stick onto the body of Azubar Wasari, which lay directly on top of two dead bandits. It began to burn.

“The Wasar people were simply ecstatic to learn they had a chance to return home. It was as if a flame of hope spread within their numbers. So, the people enlisted. Ordinary civilians living in the Wasar District, yearning to go home, were ready to fight beside Azubar and his few remaining soldiers. It was an inspiring moment. So many people willing to die for something they believed so strongly in: returning home. Interesting what people will lay down their lives for…”

He paused and stared at the burning corpses at his feet. He then looked up at the sky, then turned to face the Outlander, then beckoned for him to follow as he began walking east. The Outlander hobbled to his feet and followed after Nikk. As they walked, Nikk spoke:

“Well, we set out from Es Sharam on a dreary morning and began the long march to Wasar. We were around twenty thousand in strength and Elser was confident in a definitive victory against the armies from the west. We marched for about a day when twilight began to creep on us. As I approached the king to propose we stop and set up camp, we noticed smoke in the distance. It looked but a couple miles away. I knew it was the torches of Qanto’s armies. They march through the night by holding torches to keep their vision.

“We sounded the horn and rushed for cover behind some boulders. We were only as far as Ramir’s Crossing, almost exactly where we are now in fact, and we were already about to engage in combat. When the armies entered our field of vision, I noticed it was far larger than I had anticipated. I realized immediately that this was the Army of Qanto, the Army of Tomil, and the dreaded Army of Habagar, Chieftain of the Frontier Tribe. This army was at least sixty thousand strong. We were outmatched.”

Nikk looked over at some standing boulders to his left. The Outlander assumed those were the boulders that he and Azubar had hid behind waiting for the enemy to strike.

“Azubar came to where I was stationed and explained his strategy. He believed the army, being a hoard of bandits, would not have any elaborate formation, so he explained that he thought the army would be in a spearhead formation which could be flanked on the sides. So, he proposed that the armies should form a U-formation to counter the spearhead and Wasari soldiers should be stationed on the right and left points.

“I tried to encourage him to do otherwise because, Habagar leading these forces, I knew there was a chance these armies would have a level of experience and organization unlike their raider counterparts. Nevertheless, Azubar insisted he was right, so I allowed it and sent word to the king about his plan, and then we prepared for the battle. Only, when the battle began, the bandits were in a block formation; the most sophisticated I’ve ever seen them organize�"”

Nikk took a pause. The Outlander looked up at him and recognized his discomfort with the where he was going next.

“The Wasari were wiped out. Azubar escaped with some broken bones and bruises, but the rest of his army was decimated.”

Nikk looked down at the ground while they walked. The Outlander planned to give him the time he needed to compose himself, but he looked right back up and continued.

“King Elser managed to regroup our troops and rout the bandits. We ended up actually winning the battle and even retook Wasar, but Azubar was welcomed back with showers of shame and disdain from the public. Tzèlar took advantage of this overwhelming contempt and banished Azubar from Wasar.

“He wandered the Wastes alone and injured for a year or two before being picked up by a wandering frontier legion of bandits. Azubar was taken to Habagar and granted the title of Captain of the Frontier Legions in the period of about five years. He and I had met in the Wastes countless times before, but we did little more than taunt one another. I figured this was nothing more than another example of this, but, as you’ve figured, it escalated a bit out of control. Ironic… the man ended up dying at the very place that would’ve done him more justice to have died eight years ago. At least perhaps then he would’ve died in honor and not in shame.”

Nikk let out a heavy sigh and looked up. His eyes lit up and he looked over at the Outlander.

“Look, Outlander.”

The Outlander looked up and saw a large brick formation emerging on the horizon.

“Do you see that shape on the horizon there?”

The Outlander nodded.

“That’s Es Sharam.”

After another few minutes of walking, the mighty sandstone walls became more apparent. The walls were massive; absolutely gargantuan. The Outlander could not make much of any shape that reached above the walls except the outline of a castle far in the distance. If that castle was actually within these walls, then this begged the question: How big was this city?

Soon, Nikk and the Outlander reached the foot of the walls. Nikk led the Outlander to a massive gate and a sentry post where Nikk took on his role of courier and spoke with the sentry.

“Wait here, Outlander,” Nikk ordered before heading over.

The Outlander nodded and stood still. He watched Nikk as he and the sentry spoke. Soon, he saw the sentry nod and step outside of his post and wave to the top of the gate. Then a bellowing sound chimed three times and the gates seemed to moan while the ground began to violently shake. Then, the massive perforation in the wall began to open up leaving a small gap for Nikk and the Outlander to enter the city.

Nikk looked down at the Outlander.

“Welcome home,” he said.

The Outlander didn’t hear him. He was in shock at what stood before him. He didn’t even notice Nikk had already started moving.

“Come, Outlander. We have to get you to the Integration Office,” called Nikk.

The Outlander ran after him.

The two entered into a splendiferous marvel of architecture and grandeur. It was something to be drawn on a canvas from the expanse of an artist’s conception of immense beauty. It had an archaic charm about it. The manner in which the air moved through the towering structures was a pleasant sensation in opposition to the stale breath beyond the surrounding, firm, tan walls. The Outlander stood awestruck before the magnificence sprawling into the distance. He was absolutely speechless. There was nothing in the world like this and the Outlander knew this for certain. For being amongst the Wastes, this city was marvelous, if not almost miraculous.

“Outlander!” came a command from the fringes of the Outlander’s consciousness.

“C’mon kid, I’ve spent enough time with you already,” barked Nikk.

The Outlander snapped out of his trance and his eyes darted in Nikk’s direction. Nikk stared for about two seconds then angrily signaled for the Outlander to follow. The Outlander ran after him. The two walked passed the reserve barracks and a few smaller walls until finally entering a vast, green area with animals and plants. It was an explosion of green for the Outlander.

“What are these?” he asked Nikk.

“These are called farms,” he responded. “You won’t find much of these outside these walls. Most of the world’s lands don’t support growth, but these hills were fertile enough to sustain some crops, which is why the city was built here. This may look like a lot to you, but trust me, this is barely anything. We struggle to feed the population oftentimes.”

The Outlander felt overwhelmed with questions but wrestled with trying not to pester Nikk. Instead, he just followed quietly as they passed another wall.

“This is called the Gold District,” stated Nikk. “This is where you’ll be staying and where we’ll get you set up with an officer.”

Nikk entered a small building with some sort of text on a sign that the Outlander couldn’t make out.

“What?” Nikk noticed he was trying to comprehend the sign. “Oh, that’s right. You can’t read, can you? It says Integration Office. That’s it. Now, come inside.”

The Outlander entered the structure taken aback by the disappearance of the sky. He gasped.

“By Aske’s Light…” Nikk sighed. “It’s a building: four walls with a fifth on top. That’s it. It keeps you dry when it rains and keeps the warmth inside when it’s cold.”

So these are the “buildings” Lazarus told me about.

The Outlander slowly relaxed and saw that Nikk was talking to a long haired person sitting down at some contraption; it resembled what Lazarus described as a table, but the Outlander had given up trying to understand all of this.

“Thanks, Urà,” the Outlander heard Nikk say to the person.

Nikk then ushered to the Outlander to come over to the contraption as the person stood up.

“Outlander, this is Urà, the administrator, err… leader of this office,” Nikk explained.

The Outlander stood dumbfounded at the shape of this person. He was shaped so pleasantly. The Outlander couldn’t understand why he was drawn to this person.

“Hello Outlander,” Urà said.

The Outlander struggled to say anything and began to perspire.

“My goodness,” Urà said aloud. “This is your first time seeing a woman, isn’t it?”

“Woman?” the Outlander asked inquisitively as he looked up into her eyes, remembering what Lazarus had said yesterday. She laughed.

Smack!

The Outlander fell to his knee and clutched his left cheek. He thought this “woman” was angry at him but he couldn’t understand why.

“It’s nothing personal, Outlander,” she said, smiling. “You might as well just get used to that if you’re going to keep looking down when talking to a woman.”

The Outlander hadn’t even noticed he wasn’t looking at her in the eye.

“Abrasive as always,” Nikk said to Urà. “I knew there was something I liked about you.”

“Careful, Gunner,” Urà smirked. “I’ve got more than one left in me.”

She elbowed him lightly the abdomen and laughed as the Outlander regained his composure and brushed himself off.

“Let me go get Aster,” she said.

“Thanks again,” Nikk said as she walked through the doorway.

“Nikk,” Outlander began. “What just happened?”

Nikk laughed. “You just learned what a woman is, my friend.”

“Um, well… I don’t really feel like I understand them,” he said.

“Neither do I, Outlander. Neither do I,” Nikk responded. He then ruffled the Outlander’s hair and gave him a pat on the shoulder and grinned.

The two waited for her return. The Outlander began inspecting different objects littered throughout the room as Nikk leaned against a post watching him. A few minutes later, an older man with silver hair and a long, brown cloak with a book in his right hand walked through the same doorway Urà had entered earlier. She followed closely behind him.

“Which one is the boy?” asked the old man, aloud.

“Very funny, Aster,” reacted Nikk as he approached the man. The two stared at each other for a brief moment in silence, then embraced, laughing.

“Outlander,” Nikk said between breaths. “This is Aster Hais, Officer in Chief of the Integration Office of Es Sharam.”

“It’s a pleasure, young man,” said the man Nikk called Aster. He then extended his hand to the Outlander.

“Pleasure to meet you,” said the Outlander somewhat hesitantly.

“Well, I’d love to stay and talk,” Nikk began, “but I know I’d be hear all day. Aster and I haven’t seen each other in years.”

Urà smiled and shook her head while sitting down back at her table.

Aster elbowed Nikk. “I’d love for you to stay too, but old men like me take an hour to finish a thought, and I’m sure you have better things to do, eh? Besides, I have work to do,” explained Aster, winking to Nikk. The Outlander didn’t know what that meant, but Urà’s scoff distracted him.

“Well, Outlander,” said Nikk, turning to the Outlander. “This is where I leave you.”

“What?” expressed the Outlander; clearly staggered.

“We’ll see each other around, I’m sure,” consoled Nikk. “It’s a big city, but I linger around the Gold District often. I’ll be around.”

Nikk bent down a tad and placed his hand on the Outlander’s shoulder.

“This is not the end,” said Nikk. “Just keep your head up, kid, and you’ll be fine.”

He stood back up and turned toward Aster.

“And Aster!” Aster widened his eyes. “Let’s pick up a drink when you get done here.”

“Gretta’s?” asked Aster.

“Where else?” responded Nikk. The two laughed.

“From this time until the next,” said Nikk, saluting with two fingers in Urà’s direction. Then, he glanced toward everyone’s face, turned around, and walked right out the door.

The Outlander had been disappointed to leave Lazarus. He was the only one he’d ever known until he’d met Nikk. He knew he’d miss Lazarus, but he’d known Nikk for what had felt like most of his life; far longer than he’d known Laz, or so it seemed. He felt a stronger force in his stomach swell up. His head fell and he found himself staring at the ground fixated at a small groove in the wood. His hands clenched slightly into fists and his teeth grit together only a tad. However, before the Outlander had a chance to decipher this emotion, a voice came bellowing at him.

“Outlander, is it?” came the voice. Clearly startled, he glanced at the man like a doe meeting its predator, face to face.

He nodded.

“I don’t quite understand why you identify with a name like that, but I guess I’m not in this business to judge,” Aster explained. “Come.”

Aster waved the Outlander to follow him through the doorway, but the Outlander didn’t want to follow.

“It’s alright,” said the man. “Come along and we’ll get you situated. I’m here to help you, lad.”

It took him a moment. Maybe it was fear; maybe it was sadness, but whatever it was he overcame it and walked toward the man as he turned through the doorway. The two walked through the doorway, turned left, and walked down to the end of the hallway, then entered a room that the Outlander assumed was the old man’s office. The man walked to the table in the room and sat down. The Outlander saw a chair in the room and sat at it. It was the first time he’d been able to sit down since he and Nikk sat together after burning the dead at Ramir’s Crossing.

“Ok, let’s see here,” said the old man grabbing some papers from a shelf on the wall. “Outlander… alright. Tell me, lad, do you have any questions for me right off the bat before we get going here?”

“What’s that?” asked the Outlander.

“What’s what?” responded Aster.

“That thing you’re sitting at,” he elaborated.

“Oh, this desk?”

“Dess ick?”

“No, no. De-sk.”

“Desk,” uttered the Outander trying to pronounce it.

“Oh my,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair. “This is going to be difficult, isn’t it?”

The Outlander sulked and his face dropped. He felt as though he had disappointed the man. However, Aster took notice to this and smiled.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” he said. “What do you remember?”

“I’ve been asked that many times already,” the Outlander explained. “I have yet to understand what it means. I remember nothing.”

“It’s not some sort of blur, then?” asked Aster. “Is there anything there before you woke up the first time?”

“No,” stated the Outlander certainly. “Only absence. No blur, no darkness; nothing whatsoever.”

“Interesting,” Aster muttered. “Hardly a soul passes through this city with absolutely no knowledge of at least something from inside the walls. Curious…”

Aster began to stare blankly at the wall to his right. He was lost in thought. He had clearly never met a refugee that had no memory from within the walls.

“What makes you happy?” he asked the Outlander

The Outlander was stunned. He didn’t understand the question. He knew happiness from what Lazarus taught him before he set out for the city, but he never categorized them into words. In fact, he never really ever considered that certain things made him happy while other things did not; or perhaps that some things go as far as to make him unhappy. He took a moment to think of all the times he’d been filled with happiness and what had happened to cause that.

“Sleep,” he said.

“Sleep?” Aster laughed. “That may become truer the longer you endure this world. What else, lad?”

The Outlander thought some more.

“Lazarus,” he said without realizing any implication of what that meant.

“Lazarus Erei?” Aster asked, clarifying. “He’s the one who found you.”

The Outlander nodded.

“Hmm,” Aster grinned as he looked toward the lantern hanging from the ceiling above him, resting his fist on his mouth with his index finger resting on the lower lip. He took a long pause before speaking again.

“Who else?” he asked the boy.

Who? The tone of the discussion had shifted. The Outlander complied: “Nikk.”

Aster’s eyes lit up and he grinned yet again.

“The feeling you have is one of fellowship,” he explained to the Outlander. “One human can have a feeling of affection for another under certain circumstances. In this case, you’ve become close to Lazarus because he is the one that saved you from death and brought you back into this world. It’s an attraction often reserved for one’s parents. However, in this case, it’s Lazarus. And Nikk, as I can only assume, has become your first real friend�"”

“Yes,” the Outlander responded, remembering the handful of times he’d heard that word before. From context, he was beginning to actually understand what it meant and knew it applied to his connection with Lazarus and Nikk.”

“Yes,” Aster nodded in acknowledgement. “Remember this, lad, if you remember anything at all: it’s important to have friends in this life. It can get awfully lonely, trying to face the trials of this world alone; don’t shut yourself away or when you need someone most, you’ll be the only one around.

“Happiness is scarce these days, really. It helps to relish in the small pleasures of life. That’s why we bring you here. Out there, there is no society or culture. Here, at the very least, there is safety. Happiness is absolutely important; something underappreciated out there, even by some in here. Survival is not enough, lad. Live for that feeling of happiness, however you find it.”

The Outlander felt happy. Somehow, some way, he knew, for the first time, that it was going to be ok in the end. Because of this, he was content.

“Now then,” commanded Aster, snapping the Outlander out of his slight daze. “Let’s get down to the paperwork. You have no memory of Babel so, in respect to the King’s quest for information, you will prove utterly useless, so there’s no real need for further questioning in that field.”

He marked something on a sheet of papyrus before him. This was the Outlander’s first exposure to the concept of “writing.” However, he didn’t feel overwhelmed by his lack of understanding for once. He deduced what was happening before him and understood that the device in his hand made markings on the sheet on the desk. This made perfect sense to him, even though he had no clue what any of it was “called,” per se. He had unlocked, in some form or another, the ability of deduction. It seemed… familiar to him somehow.

“Ok,” said Aster when he finished writing. “Before we continue, I’ll let you ask some more questions. I realize I stopped you before you had other, perhaps, more ‘pragmatic’ questions for me.”

“Where will I go?” the Outlander asked.

“That’s a good first question,” Aster responded.

“Nikk said I was going to the Gold District, but I don’t understand what that is,” the Outlander explained.

“Yes, I can see how that would invoke a sense of curiosity.” Aster adjusted himself so that he was leaning in his chair against the right arm rest with his jaw resting on his right fist. He was staring, yet again, at the lantern above him.

“Well, you see,” he continued. “The Gold District is far from lavish, but it’s not a hovel, by any means. It’s quaint, really; a fine area of the city that we reserve specifically for refugees, much like yourself. There’s a beautiful little garden in the district square. It has the sweetest gracefruits that grow from this little tree, not yet half grown, that stands alone within a small grove of honeyberries.”

There were too many words and concepts foreign to the Outlander at this point that it wasn’t even worth wasting time clarifying, so he proceeded to ask only what was relevant to his future situation in the city.

“After we’re done here, I’ll get you a residence and a key and lead you to your new home,” Aster continued. “It’ll be small, I’ll just warn you now, but the community is amicable. You’ll enjoy it. You may not want to stay there forever, but it’s not so bad for a little while, or so I’ve been told.”

“What am I to do with myself?”

What an interesting question. Aster had never been asked that before, but it’s a valid question to have.

“Well… um… I suppose whatever you’d like,” Aster stuttered. “Most who come through here will get a job at the docks welling for water from the canyon or working on the farms raising animals or cultivating crops. There are other jobs you can take in nearby shops, but most shopkeepers tend to be apprehensive to hiring refugees, like yourself.”

There was a moment of pause; thoughtful pause. The Outlander had more than enough to consider and it would take some time to process and decide what path he would take, but ultimately he was eager to find his new home. He wanted to stop travelling, stop worrying, stop… moving, and sleep. He realized what it meant to be tired, and he knew that he was beyond belief.

“Can I,” the Outlander muttered. “See my new home?”

“Of course,” Aster responded, somewhat taken aback by his sudden shut down of the conversation. “Let me just take care of a few other things and we can make our way over to the outer district.”

“What else do you need to know? There’s not much I can tell,” the Outlander declared.

“I just need to write down your living quarters and attach that to your name and run these documents over to the king’s desk and get your refugee status confirmed,” Aster explained. “This city suffers from a complex bureaucracy of blocks and filibusters, but luckily Parliament has given my office nearly full autonomy over this job; all I need to do is get the King’s signature.”

The Outlander just stared blankly. Aster chuckled in response to seeing the boy’s face.

“Just let me worry about it, lad. Just follow me, and keep up.”

Aster shuffled his papers after having put them all in order. He slid them into a satchel hanging off the corner of a shelf and threw it over his shoulder, the strap slung across the old man’s torso. He then proceeded out the doorway. The Outlander quickly rose to his feet and shuffled out the door to follow Aster.

They reentered the foyer where Urà was sitting at her desk.

“That was brief,” she said with a smirk, writing something down that the Outlander couldn’t make out.

“The boy doesn’t remember a thing,” said Aster, smiling. “Making my job easy today.”

Aster ruffled the boy’s hair and chuckled again. They continued out the front door of the building and back out into the sunlight. The Outlander squinted. The light hurt. He didn’t remember it hurting like this before. Or perhaps he had?

“Keep up Outlander,” Aster called out. “I may be old, but I haven’t lost my step quite yet.”

The Outlander ran behind Aster. They were heading in a new direction. They were continuing down the path he and Nikk had followed until they had reached the office.

The path slowly began to decay the further they travelled; the path cobbled more and more and the buildings grew darker and bleaker. Aster was in a clear hurry, so the Outlander made no effort to instigate conversation.

He simply stood in amazement as the architecture around him changed more and more with each passing step. What had been a splendor of glistening white brick, golden rooftops, and tall, transparent glass windows with the buildings organized in clean, pattern-like clusters had devolved into a mess of wooden shacks and dark crimson and black bricks with tan or dark brown rooftops and barred or broken out windows. It’s a wonder that they call this the “Gold” District.

Suddenly, Aster came to a stop in front of a tall four-story structure of maroon brick with broken grey shingles atop and barred windows on the side. The Outlander realized this might be where he’s going to live.

“Now, I know what you’ve seen around here hasn’t necessary been aesthetic,” began Aster. “But the more you look, the more beauty you’re likely to find. There’s an elegance in decay. And besides, you’re only two blocks away from the district’s quaint little garden.”

Aster reached out to open the door into the structure. It opened with an eldritch creak and Aster stepped inside. He was hesitant for but a moment, but the Outlander followed suit. Aster smiled at the Outlander and proceeded up the stairs two stories and stopped in front of a room with the number “5” etched in the wood of the door. Aster fished into his pocket for a key and began to unlock the door. The key was old and the lock was a tad rusty; it took Aster a couple tries to turn the key in spite of the resistance the lock gave him.

“There we go,” Aster smiled.

There was a brief moment of pause before Aster glanced back at the boy behind him; then he slowly pushed the door open. Before them stood the Outlander’s new home. It was a small two-room space. To his right, there was a small area with shelves, a gas stove, and a table with two, small chairs. Across the room from that was a small area on his left with a sofa and another chair that only look mildly more comfortable than the two wooden carpentry disasters under the table in the kitchen. To the back on the left was another door; presumably to the bedroom.

The floors were an old, rotting wood; same as the ceiling. The walls were plastered, but the dull, grey plaster was slowly coming off, revealing the brick that composed the walls before him. There was only one small gas lamp lighting the room on the table near the shelves. A small window with bars on the outside provided a small, pale light. The glass was too thick to provide much light, however. The room was altogether dim and dull.

“This is it, Outlander,” spoke Aster. “This is home.”

“Home,” breathed the Outlander. He surely had no idea what that word meant, but this was it. What next?

Before he had a chance to consider this, Aster spoke up:

“Well, there are some rations in the cabinet: salted meat. Some bottles with cider and ale and some greens bound up on the lower two shelves. You have enough food to last you about a week, if you ration it. There are also some fresh clothes lying on your bed in the backroom behind that door. If you need more, come to my office and I’ll provide you with some food to hold you over, and I may have some extra clothes lying around if these don’t fit well, but you’ll need a job sooner rather than later. I recommend seeing Lyle Hault. He’s the local fisherman in this district. He just moved up from an apprentice for a fisherman down south to making his own operation. He may need some workers; or perhaps an apprentice of his own, eh?”

Aster chuckled yet again, and finished up: “But for now, I need to leave you.”

The Outlander’s heart dropped, “But, listen to me,” Aster interjected. “My job is to help you. If you need anything, anything at all, come see me. My door is open from dawn to dusk for the first eight days of the week. Do not hesitate.”

Aster placed his hand upon the young man’s shoulder and smiled that comforting smile the Outlander had come to value from him. The Outlander made and effort to smile back, then Aster patted his shoulder and turned around out the doorway.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” exclaimed Aster. “This flat is set up to where each floor has two tenants. Your flat-mate is a man named Ark Daliss. Good man. Shy of a decade older than yourself. I recommend you meet him. He's a hunter; perhaps he could provide you with some food.”

The two paused for a moment as the Outlander took in the sight of his new home.

“Well, that’ll just about do it, I suppose. Guess I’ll be off,” interjected Aster.

“Wait,” the Outlander blurted out.

“Yes?” asked Aster as he turned to the door. “What is it?”

“Trees,” he asked. “Lazarus told me about the trees. Down south.”

“Trees?” Aster reacted. “We have trees here.”

“No,” responded the Outlander. “Lazarus said there’s a place where the trees grow. Nikk said they were down south. Do you know what they’re talking about?”

Aster grinned.

“Lazarus, you old dog,” he muttered. “Yes boy, I think I know what you’re talking about. I’ll see what I can do, but for now, just stay here and out of trouble. We can talk more in the coming days. Now, I really must be going.”

Aster continued out the doorway.

“Goodbye, Outlander. For now. And good luck, my young friend.”

Aster exited the Outlander’s flat and closed the door calmly behind him. The Outlander was now, once again, as he was the day he emerged into this world, on his own. All alone.

Suddenly, his mind raced. Hundreds, thousands, millions, billions, trillions of questions erupted. He had no more distraction. Now his mind was free to go everywhere all at once. He wanted to understand so much. He could only deduce so much. He had no idea how to address a single question flowing through his thoughts. He was completely lost, yet he knew exactly where he stood.

Then, as quickly as the infinite questions had appeared, something struck him right in his chest, like a bolt of lightning zapping down every nerve in his bodily network. It was violent, sudden, and succumbing. It seemed to remove everything within his body, leaving him totally empty and desolate. It was that feeling once again: fear.

Here he stood; amidst a vast city of countless people and structures he’d never seen before and never known existed. Then again, what did he know existed just three days prior? Did he? And then, from the copious questions that had assaulted him moments before came a handful of relevant and immediate ones, and, from that, one:

What now?

Author's Note

Rip it apart. Do it. Do it!