Chapter 2

Chapter 2

 

Apollo city, capital of Vesperian.

“Vesper landscaping at its best. It’s just always so ridiculous!” Myron complains.

          The two-manned party arrive at the break of sunlight, beating the sun to the highest part in the sky. The trip itself took a little over three days to make, thankfully they we’re able to avoid any trouble.

          Unlike the Mainlands, where Myron originated, Apollo’s streets lack pavement. Their landscaping exists of freshly cared blue-grass and dirt paths flatten by thousands of years’ worth of trampling. Walking lanes are separated by free flowing rivers with the bluest water known to their like.  The buildings here are large and made of a glossy like metal. Absorbing heat from the sun itself they create perfect living temperatures to be stationed so close at sea. Their clothing are of the most exquisite cotton known to Regina and are paired with the shiniest jewels man has ever set his eyes upon.

          Here the natives follow different laws. Unlike the mainlands who obey the order created by The Prohet, a being said to commune with the holy six, their laws are enforced by a king and his royal family that follows.

Vespers are characterized by their gleaming bright eyes and bright stringy hair. Their  hierarchy is based solely on physical appearance alone, judged by the color of their skin. The purple skinned are known as Royalt and are considered the purest of their race. They are usually the richest of their kind and treated as kings. The blue skinned Vespers are considered to have a tainted bloodline due to the nature of their color. They usually live as servants or other supporting roles to the Royalt and are categorized simply as Blue. Last in the chain are the hollow, Vespers who have mixed their bloodline with humans. They usually possess human pigmentation but the bright eyes of Vespers. Considered the lowest of the low they exist at the bottom of the food chain often having to strive and fight for survival.

          “So what’s first?” Erika asks stretching her legs. She’s a lot taller than Myron originally thought. Even dressed in a loosely weaved jumpsuit her muscles ripple at the legs and arms of her outfit. A lifetime of conditioning.

“First we get you a sword, then we get Rosali”

“A pretty name.” Erika compliments. She gives herself a quick look over and frowns. Their first impression can’t be of prison garbs and a man with a large overcoat.

“Why the hell are you wearing an overcoat! It’s not that cold.”

“Yup, and it was probably hotter yesterday.”

“And I repeat my question.”

“Simply put, my body doesn’t generate enough heat. I need a constant supply.”

“Weirdo.”

“Power comes with a price” Myron shrugs.

          The streets of Apollo are livelier than ever considering the time of day. There’s no end to the wide eye stares and whispers from the natives. All of whom may be seeing humans for the first or second time of their lives.

           Bright letters that glow sunburst orange, reading Ja’s Emporium, hang from up top a building. It’s complete with a pair of swords laying parallel above. It seems as good as any to pick out a sword or two for Myron’s partner. He politely and comically bows to allow the lady first entrance.

“I thought you exhausted your funding.” Erika asks coyly.

“I did.”

“Yea this isn’t going to work. I won’t use stolen merchandise. My blade is an extension of my ideals.”

“Seriously?”

“You the one who wanted me to be a mentor. I won’t let you or this world change me.”

“Finally, something I can agree with.” Myron agrees. They head deeper inside the city evading the enticing signs offering hot meals and places to lay your head. Myron isn’t sure of the direction he’s heading but he can feel Kano’s presence guiding him. There’s no voice, just a weird sense of directions as if he has already been here once before. Their journey comes to an end outside of a small diner written in ancient Vesperian language that neither Myron nor Erika try and pronounce.

“This is it.” Myron says with a crackling voice. His hands tremble with painful memories from his childhood. The alcoholic father, the overly accepting mother. The beatings and the death. A pain he’s sought to escape.

“Calm down!” Erika asserts. “Your shaking.” She says placing an arm on his shoulder. She squeezes it roughly enough to draw enough pain to reward a response. For a second his eyes appear difference, wild, and he looks afraid. But just as quickly as it appeared it vanishes, leaving no trace. “Come on, let’s get your niece.”

          The double doors to the unnamed diner swing open portraying a lavishly decorated interior. Complete with red carpeting, bright lights, and marble tables, the diner is filled nearly to capacity. The first friendly face is that of the hostess, a frail blue skinned Vesper with more volume in her hair than her entire body. She smiles with wide lips before addressing the party of two.

“Good Morning, will you be dining in?” she asks

“Yes ma’am” Erika speaks up.

The hostess leads them among the many others in attendance to a small area tucked away in a corner. The Blue walks briskly stealing glances of Myron and Erika. Like everyone else, she cannot fantom the need for Myron’s jacket or the weird one piece suit that covers Erika. The walls are packed with portraits of Vespers whom neither Myron nor Erika can properly identify. They all stare ominously back at the viewer, wearing jewels that only seem to exist in dreams.

“I’ll give you a second to settle in and return to take your orders.” Says the hostess. She pulls out the seat for each guest individually before returning to her original position.

“What are we doing here Myron, we have no plan.”

“Eating and scouting.” Myron answers smugly. He flexes his shadow to create tiny bugs that scurry about wherever there is an absence of light. It takes an unbelievable amount of concentration to manage multiple creations as he does so he makes his explanation quick.

“That’s disgusting!” Erika cries

“I hear and see through the shadows. It’s strenuous but useful. I can’t feel myself suffering so..”

“Stop you before you kill over. Sounds easy enough.”

“Good, cause I’m starting.” Myron says. His eyes slam shut as he slowly eases his head into his arms. He lays it flat on the table soaking in the many voices from the patrons in the room. First it’s a collage of ramblings, unrecognizable voices that act more as noise than any form of communication. Shortly later their distinct conversations tell tales of their life in Apollo.

          The cheating wife and husband. The noble who prefers slaves of a more developed nature. The aspiring Blues, bored Royalts and Bright-eyes who seek only a chance to prove themselves. Their lives are all unfolded and laid bare in front Myron who marvels at their delights.

“GET UP!” Erika says aggressively kicking his shin. She’s watched his face change from painful to the downright creepy smile still plastered across. There is blood trickling from his nose beyond his lips, he greets Erika with hazy eyes and an exhausted spirit. Myron breaths are heavy as his eyes slowly focus on the vixen on front of him.

“You, were shaking!”

“Probably dying, but it worked itself out.” Myron boasts. He wipes away blood with the napkins provided at the table and sits up straight. His eyes catch the portrait of a Royalt woman, wearing a crown made of emeralds. Her golden eyes staring deep into his soul, filling him with a strange feeling of remembrance for this woman he’s never seen.

“One. I worked it out. Two, I found us a ship.”

“I won’t help”

“It’s a pirate ship. Rogue company doing underhand dealings with a Royalt looking for an easy score. They’ll be drunker by the dead of night, burning through the spoils of smuggled goods. Blue in the back there, will lead me to em. You have no problems Liberating a pirate ship, do you?” Myron says coyly. He signals Erika with his eyes to take note of the Blue, sitting in the center of the diner with his feminine guest. He’s short yet surprisingly built, dressed in a silky shirt with yellow flowering for designs.

“I have no quarrels with that.”

“Good, but I don’t really need your help. I’ve already a plan.”

“And what am I to do, in the meantime.”

“My niece? What else.” Myron reminds his partner. She rolls her eyes before cursing herself for ever believing he’d make sense. It becomes obvious to her that Myron isn’t one known for playing well with others. She plants her face in her hand, taking a deep breath to avoid smashing her fist in Myron’s face.

The pit and patter of small feet slowly make their way to  their table as the servant finally returns to take orders for Myron’s table. Myron turns his head slowly towards the waiter who’s nothing like the woman before. Golden eyed and short. Dark colored skin, the trademark of mainlanders, and a face younger than that of a teenager. She smiles with dimples as round as buttons, showing white teeth the color of pearls. In Myron’s eyes, is the reincarnation of his mother, a beauty unrivaled by any god.

“Good morning. My name is Rosali and its my pleasure to serve you.” She greets cheerfully. Her innocent eyes going hand and hand with her perfect smile. An image so cute it causes Erika’s heart to flutter. For Myron, it stops. Skips a beat. He freezes in place with nervousness and feelings of fear he thought long forgot. He’s unable to form a single intelligible word, instead he stares at the young pre-teen with widen and scary eyes.

“Forgive us young madam but we are new to Apollo and unfamiliar with the menu. Can you tell us of the day’s specials?” Erika asks sincerely. She kicks Myron’s shins once more, attempting to snap him from his stupor. Unbeknownst to him, his actions are causing the young lady to shift nervously under his uncomforting gaze. She tries forcing a smile to hide her uneasy feeling but it doesn’t escape Erika. She kicks Myron once more from under the table, this time hard enough to form a bruise. His face twists with agony as he shoots malice through his eyes.

“Um. Yes, well today our house special includes Red  toad soup served with freshly baked rolls and a side of crackers. We also offer grilled fish and chips served with our house’s secret sauce.” Rosali announces. She tries looking poised but can’t escape the suffocating gaze Myron uses to smother her. It makes her feel more uncomfortable in the ways spiders would crawling about her skin. Creepy!

Myron is just as shaken. This girl is his niece without doubt. Even if he had no knowledge of her existence he’d could still pinpoint the resemblance. This girl isn’t just the splitting image of his mother, it’s her reborn. The pulsating bright eyes show her Vesper blood running strong, but the nose, fullness of the lips, dimples, the cut in her eyes, and puffy cheeks are that of his late mother. As if he’s staring at her portrait created by the Regina’s most talented painter.

“I can  give you more time to decide if you like” Rosali asks.

“Yes. That would be perfect.” Erika answers. She eases the preteen with a gentle smile of her own, refusing to break away until Rosali falls completely out of sight. “You done being arkward?” She asks Myron.

“Its. Scary. Her face. She looks just like my mother.”

“Then we know it’s the right person, great! Now my next question, what are we doing here? Last I checked you had no gold pieces, how are we planning to pay?”

“With these.” Myron answers, holding up a handful of copper coins. He cycles a few through his fingers, spilling several more on the table. They shine brightly under the building’s light, sparkling as the light kisses them at different angles.

“You didn’t!”

“Relax. These are from the lowest of the low, a group of pirates I plan on clashing with. If I spoke what I heard you’d demand their execution.”

“You cannot be serious. There are only two of us and I have no sword.”

“Yea but I have a plan.”

“One you won’t share.” Erika says rolling her eyes. She takes in the atmosphere of the diner while awaiting for the young Hollow to return. Her trained eyes watches as Myron’s shadowy insects scurry once more from shadow to shadow in return to their master. They are impossible to detect to those ignorant of their existence. They climb into his hand providing more currency before disappearing into the black abyss that lurks deep inside his jacket. Bang! Clunk! Ching, chink! The sounds of tables being turned and dishes shattering. The crash is loud enough to steal the attention of the room but the assailant is ugly enough to warrant everyone to turn away.