Daniel stood dumbfounded atop a floating island, underground…a reality that his mind constantly tried to reconcile with what he knew of the world, yet the view before him defied its every attempt.
Somehow, the various farm families behind him were shrugging the unreality off, chatting amicably with some snake-goat creature about feed and fertilizer. Even old Jethro had his arms crossed, and his eyes closed, nodding as he listened to the goat-man explain which of his creatures could graze together and which needed isolation.
A creature the likes of which Daniel could not even imagine thumped behind him. It was vaguely cow-shaped, yet it had a thick upper torso and a huge head that dwarfed its lower torso. It was covered with a deep brown fur, and its head had enormous horns that curved out of its skull, seeming to spiral into its back, merging with its body before poking out its backside.
It grazed peacefully, its flat, square teeth marking it as a clear grass-eater, but its size and unfamiliar shape lent it a profile that nearly had Daniel quaking.
“Great horned bison are beautiful but strange, aren’t they?” a woman chirped.
Daniel, thankfully, managed to resist the sudden, overwhelming instinct to jump. The woman stood next to him, just a foot away. He had been so enraptured by the view and the creature that he had not even heard her approach.
“I’m Numa! I’ve been here for several weeks now, so I’ve got lots of information, if you want it,” Numa introduced merrily.
“Oh, uh, Daniel. A pleasure, thanks,” Daniel muttered, returning his eyes to the bison.
“You know, these things start just shy of level 200 when they’re born. This guy, an older adult, must be…shoot…nearly 250 by this point?” Numa mused.
Daniel’s eyes widened noticeably. Never mind the creature’s size and intimidating shape, 250?! Was it not frightening enough already? This seems excessive!
“Are you one of the farmers?” Numa asked, turning toward him, as if she had not just announced that a monster was grazing next to them.
“Me? No, I’m a merchant. I trade back and forth between the farmers and Gloamview. Although I suppose I will be trading with all the farmers and Nemesis, now,” he remarked.
“Oh, a merchant! You’ve been around quite a bit, then? What’s it like in the south? I’ve heard there are rolling green hills and water as far as the eye can see!” Numa exclaimed, clapping her hands together.
“The ocean? Yes, it’s quite a sight, though I’ve only seen it myself a couple of times. It’s all the way across the country, after all. I trade mostly in the north, along the border between Radaar and the Gloam—” Daniel started, loosening slightly.
“Could everyone please gather around?” Nephthys suddenly called.
Daniel glanced over and nearly did a double-take, still unused to her new visage—or original visage? He supposed the more human look was the mask, while this godly image was her unmasked.
He had struggled with the decision to supply Nemesis for several days, though it was not merely the trade that gave him pause. If the offer had been as simple as adding a new stop to his route, it would have been easy.
The issue was what Nemesis seemed to want from him in the future, which is…what, exactly? Becoming the leader of a huge trading company? Becoming the outside agent for Nemesis, overseeing all its external trade? He was unclear on the specifics, and that was the most difficult part.
Yesterday had made the decision for him. He had been traveling the roads between the Fulgathors’ farm and his next stop, unusually desolate and devoid of other traffic, when a spedra came stomping over. Daniel had sighed in resignation, ready to accept what must be done.
Spedra were four-legged beasts with skin like rock, cracked and hard, with two straight horns of the same material jutting from their shield-like heads. They were fiercely territorial, and Daniel knew that if this one claimed this part of the path as its own, it would pursue him potentially for miles. It would not stop until he had left whatever the edge of its territory was.
The only option was to spur Rovik hard, trying to outrun the beast, which was thankfully slowed by its heavy stone skin. Still, it would mean pushing Rovik hard. He would need a rest, which would slow his trip down more than the run would account for, and he risked damage to his cart.
These ‘roads’ were little more than dirt paths stamped down over the years by semi-frequent cart traffic. The jostling and bumping would undoubtedly break a wheel, at the very least.
Just as he was about to push Rovik to a run, resigned to his fate, a burst of green wind shot from the top of his cart. It impacted the spedra and, to Daniel’s surprise, picked it fully off the ground, depositing it several feet away on its back.
Its stubby legs kicked in the air several times before it managed to right itself, huffing and wandering slowly away, the fight more than it apparently wanted.
Daniel glanced up to the roof of his cart, where the silphid was zipping to and fro, always full of energy.
Something had clicked in Daniel’s mind right then, and he resolved to work with Nemesis as much and as closely as possible. It was not just that the silphid, whom he had decided to name Notus, had saved him from the major inconveniences this setback would cause.
The idea of moving through the world unmolested, unbothered by aggressive wildlife, bandits, or any other threat, smashed through some invisible barrier in his mind. One of the appeals of his current path was the freedom it provided. Moving from place to place on his own schedule, beholden to none but himself, was something he enjoyed thoroughly.
Yet, he was always on the lookout for potential threats. Radaar was far from safe, and indeed, the regions around Gloamview were the frontier. One could never count themselves safe without a huge wall surrounding them.
Whenever Daniel planned his routes, he always considered the time of year, which animals would be mating and aggressive, and where he had heard reports of banditry.
If Nemesis could provide protection so that safety was an afterthought… well, that would change everything. He would truly be free.
A gentle wind suddenly nudged Daniel’s face, shaking him from his reverie, pushing him toward Nephthys, who floated a couple of feet off the ground, waiting for everyone to gather.
“Yes, yes. I am going, Notus,” Daniel assured, chuckling.
“Right, well…I will be straight with all of you,” Nephthys started, her expression neutral, yet her words containing an undeniable gravity. “Things have escalated in Gloamview, and I do not believe it is safe to be anywhere near it at the moment. For this reason, I would ask that you all lodge here, in Nemesis, for at least a few days.”
A silence passed between all the farmers, all looking at each other, trying to digest her words.
“Sorry, what exactly do you mean by ‘unsafe’, Miss Nephthys?” Jethro asked.
“Rationing for low-level food has been declared in Gloamview by Count Baracourt,” she answered simply.
A low murmur rose among the farmers at the news.
“Why would anyone need to ration…”
“Doesn’t the city maintain a farm for specifically this reason…”
Daniel heard the mumbles and found himself in agreement. Rationing made no sense whatsoever. Gloamview had a low-level farm within its central district, near the noble quarters, specifically to avoid this possibility.
Children born in Ashreach tended to be higher-level than their Vadenlaudian counterparts, but very few reached level 100. Such births were the telltale signs of future powerhouses. Most were born around 50, and they seldom reached level 75 before weaning, meaning they relied on low-level food to survive.
Such a problem was easy to exploit in warfare. A simple siege would drive a dagger right into the populace’s heart by targeting their children. As such, a low-level farm was started and strictly maintained and monitored to avoid that possibility. At the very least, even if a siege fully surrounded the city for months, Gloamview’s children would never starve.
How could such a carefully curated object of city security and prosperity have been so mismanaged that rationing was declared?
“This is speculation on my part,” Nephthys started, silencing the chatter. “But I believe that the goal is to push the population into a…suggestible state. You are all aware that your own farms have been targeted. Indeed, it is for this reason that the group before me is not larger.”
Sad looks were exchanged among the farmers. Few knew each other personally, but all knew of the fate that had befallen their cohorts, and each knew that it was simple luck or logistics that prevented the same from befalling them. Either they were lucky enough not to have been chosen as targets yet, or they were too far away from the city to be bothered.
“The citizenry is not pleased by the sudden rationing, as you can imagine, and there are voices within the crowds that seem to be intentionally escalating tensions, aiming them at the marquis. My assessment, though unconfirmed, is that the count is attempting to rile the public to overthrow the marquis.
“For this reason, I believe he worked with an unnamed underground organization to target your compatriots’ farms, destroying them. I am sorry to say this, but I believe the only reason he did so was to create the illusion that no outside help would arrive.
“I suspect he wants his citizens to know, or think, that there will be no help arriving from the marquis. He wishes to stoke resentment for the marquis, manufacturing consent for his eventual rebellion. Again, this is merely my own assessment. It is not confirmed, but the danger to all of you gathered here is.
“If what I suspect is true, the count will continue making sure that none of you can produce low-level food to challenge his assertions. This is why I am asking you to remain here, in safety, until the threat passes,” Nephthys finished.
“But…what use is there being safe if we return days later to find our farms, our entire lives, gone, burned to the ground?” one man, Lukas Jefferson, asked.
Lukas owned a farm far to the west of Gloamview. He was relatively isolated, even considering the other farmers gathered, so this was all likely even more of a shock for him than the others.
“I will dispatch Nemesis forces to safeguard your farms and take care of your animals and crops. Seti here will oversee the farm operations. They are more than capable of keeping your animals and crops alive for a few days or a couple of weeks, and our security forces will keep your structures intact, fending off whatever miscreants might arrive.
“Again, I will be transparent: it will be much easier for us if you remain here. My forces will be much more effective keeping your lands safe if they do not also have to worry about keeping you safe,” Nephthys explained.
Daniel understood the implication: he, they, would be in the way.
“Besides, there’s so much to see here!” Numa suddenly shouted, raising her arms straight up. “We can show you around. You absolutely must see the view from atop the pyramid!”
Daniel sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. This place was strange. Even when speaking of heavy subjects, like a rebellion against the marquis, this place felt like it was completely uninvolved, as if the cares of the rest of the world did not matter here.
It felt like another world.
————————————
Crowds chanted, fists raised.
“We are Radaar! We are Radaar!”
The men standing guard at the government hall that controlled the Market Sector of Gloamview wore stony expressions, unmoved by the crowds or their energy.
“The marquis can’t deny us food! We belong to the same kingdom!” shouted one man, prompting a chorus of cheers and agreement.
There were several men like him throughout the crowd. As the citizens expressed their discontent, these men would direct it toward the marquis, like large rocks guiding a stream.
There were some peculiarities with these men, however.
“The marquis is to blame!” one shouted, his fist raised.
“Shouldn’t we be upset with the count, too? He’s the one who controls the low-level farm,” someone in the crowd next to him asked, though he was far quieter than the boisterous man.
The man turned on him, his pupils tiny, sweat dripping down his face. He stared down at the man who had questioned the count, and defying everyone’s expectations, he raised his fist and punched the man straight in the face.
His assault did not stop there. He pounced on the downed man with a bestial ferocity, straddling the man on the ground and wailing on his face. Punch after punch slammed the man, blood spraying the nearby bystanders. The man never said a word, never tried to justify his actions, and never stopped his assault.
Eventually, members of the crowd managed to hold him, despite his furious struggling, removing him from the downed man, who lay motionless on the ground in a growing pool of blood.
The crowd stared silently at the unconscious or dead man, whispering to each other. Their section of the throng ceased its chanting, though it was quickly drowned out by the ruckus around it.
A pair of green eyes shone within the darkness of a nearby alley, the only things visible above a crooked, white smile that seemed to possess too many teeth. No one seemed to notice them, however, and in a flash, they were gone.
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