Chapter 1: The Enclave Part 1: Ariel

The easternmost tower of Hope’s Enclave glittered in the window-filtered afternoon sunlight as Ariel Fares climbed, stairs spiraling around a central pillar. The interior of the tower was cool despite the weather outside, a light breeze tickling at Ariel’s coarse hair. He adjusted his coat, shoved his hands into his pockets, and sped up for the dozen or so steps left to the top.

As soon as Ariel emerged into direct light, he felt his temperature jump, the sun’s bite on the back of his neck. Removing his hands from his pockets, he tossed his books and pens out onto the floor in front of him, then removed the long coat and hung it over the railing in front of him. Out to Ariel’s east, the gate loomed tall, its great doors hanging open. These days, with the threat of John Seid’s armies in the East and South, the gates being open could only mean one thing – a fresh shipment of brains and brawn for the great Project. Looking up at the afternoon sky, wishing he could see the stars beyond the sun, Ariel reached for his sketchbook.

Adjusting his glasses, he turned his head to see better through the gate. Two large vehicles approached slowly, trundling up to the entryway. Based on the sound and the plume of dust over the wall’s edge – dust which obscured the tops of evergreen trees in the far distance – there must have been more of those vehicles. Idly, Ariel wondered just how many new people were arriving today, and whether any of them would be a part of his training class.

He opened his pen-case and made a first experimental stroke, glancing over at the printed image he’d brought along as a reference. It was one of Hans Rolvsson’s most recent works, and Ariel wanted to imitate that artist’s style with perfection. There was something in it he couldn’t copy, though – the weight of the lines, or the texture of the material, he couldn’t tell. Ariel stared down at his page, sketching out a rough outline of the carrier vehicle now parking itself at the front gate.

“No, no, this isn’t quite right,” he murmured under his breath, sighing in frustration and turning away from the page. Ariel happened to glance down into the courtyard then, and noticed some movement. Well, it was about time, he supposed. Somebody had to greet the newcomers at the gate, and… wait.

Was that Deputy-Director Shula? The orange-haired older man, the last wisps of smoke from a cigarette still trailing out the corner of his mouth, made his way quickly across the courtyard toward the gate. And he stopped there, standing across from the gateway, staring at the vehicle. He called out something, though at this distance Ariel couldn’t hear what words he said.

On his paper, Ariel made a circle, added a rough sketch of a human figure. He penned in the lines of the plaza stones and bricks, and to the image of the carrier vehicle added a few details – tinted windows, large tires –

The door of the carrier vehicle opened, interrupting Ariel’s concentration.

The first person out of the caravan was an odd-looking young woman – someone from along the Great Border by her appearance. Living in the Atlantic Mists, Ariel observed, had a way of shading the eyes, or perhaps that was simply a trick of the light. The back of the woman’s head was partially covered by an orange wrapping and she wore a blue sash-like garment. It looked like there was some sort of embroidery or other minute thread-work there, but at this distance Ariel couldn’t be sure. That girl’s from the Orrmist Confederation, he thought. Looks important, too. True to form she marched across the entrance archway and straight up to where Deputy-Director Shula stood, and then she began to speak to him with all the self-assurance of a noble who is accustomed to getting her way.

The Deputy-Director said something in response, and the Orrmisti girl set her hands on her hips. When she spoke, this time, it was loud enough even for Ariel to hear. “What was that, sir?” The Deputy-Director’s response did not appear to make her any happier.

The Deputy-Director spoke with the strange Orrmisti woman for a while, and then another person got off the caravan. He was clad in a dark suit, one that looked stiff and uncomfortable on him. He glanced around the courtyard, passed through the gateway, and approached the Deputy-Director. When he was standing just inside the gate, his eyes happened to catch on Ariel. Ariel watched the man, and the man saw Ariel watching him. He scowled and moved on toward his one-man welcoming party.

As he approached, the Deputy-Director nodded in his direction and said something to him, something about lodgings. The suited man nodded, then glanced over to the Orrmisti woman. He must have said something, because she took a step away from him, head turned toward him, mouth a severe line. The man in the suit took a quick step back, then stopped, clenching his fists.

Ariel let the sketchbook fall to the floor next to him as he watched this scene unfold, as the voices of the two raised enough for Ariel to hear their words.

“You are impudent to speak to me this way. Who are you, anyway? Some common scoundrel thinking you know enough to tell others their business?”

“Well, what do you know? Do you know what I see when I look at you?”

“No, and I do not care.” By her bearing, the Orrmisti woman as much as confirmed that she was important within the Confederation, in Ariel’s eyes. But that was thousands of miles away, wasn’t it?

“I see someone who doesn’t realize she’s not at home anymore.”

“You are not at home either, Ryan Sawyer.” Sawyer? Ariel thought on that name for a moment. Where had he heard a name like that before?

“But I know I’m not. You don’t. I’ve been listening to you talk the whole way here, so I’d say I know a thing or two.”

“You know nothing, boy –“ The Orrmisti woman began.

Ariel was so focused on the argument between these two strange newcomers to the Enclave, that he did not notice the third person getting out of the vehicle. She was dressed regally, like a high-class Rivenstadi with her blue-and-red overshirt and its tails. She stood with a fencer’s stance, the soles of tall boots flat against the ground and her whole body seeming tensed to move, the sword in her hand thrust between the Orrmisti woman and Ryan Sawyer.

The two forgot their argument and stared at the other woman in shock. She slowly drew the sword back, returning to a standing position, her shoulders rising and falling rapidly. She brushed a lock of loose hair out of her eyes at the same time that she returned the weapon to its scabbard one-handed. The woman spoke, but her voice was distant and small, and Ariel couldn’t begin to guess at her words.

They spoke for some time, the four of them in that courtyard, even as other people began to file out of the caravan behind. Finally, as the others started to impatiently push through the archway, the Deputy-Director turned toward Ariel’s tower and called up to him. He nearly fell back in shock when he realized he was seen.

“And you, young Mr. Fares – with Ryan here!”