Chapter Five: Days of Change

It had been ten years now, ten years to the day, from when his time was rewound and he had been given his second chance.

People bustled, they passed him by without a glance, one of hundreds, one of thousands; in the crowd none could see him. To either side high buildings rose, shops two stories high, glass storefronts displaying their wares for all to see. The skyline was dominated by spires and towers rising high, piercing the clouds. Selen was a city of marvels; as the capital of Elliene it was the federations beating heart, all races were welcome within its walls. Walls that had stood for generations; its’ foundations built upon ancient ruins abandoned long ago, and atop the largest dungeon know to any race. The city had started small, a simple fort atop Selen hill, but within a decade it had expanded to unimaginable lengths, now the centre of trade, education and advancement.

So in a city as large as Selen it was hardly an uncommon thing, with all its winding passages and back alleys, he certainly couldn’t have been the first; no everyone was bound to get lost now and then. Of course not everyone had timing quite as terrible as his; he was going to be so very late.

He could just always ask for directions, not that he was going to. What self respecting demon king would stoop so low as? He had never asked for directions in his life and wouldn’t be starting now!

Well it couldn’t be that bad, Gorren chuckled lightly to himself looking about the plaza, if he just kept going uphill he was sure he’d arrive on time, even if he did have no idea where the hell he was going or where he was. Well there was no point in just standing around, if he ran he’d make it on time, yeah if he ran...

Eitta was still going to kill him.

The sound of the street, voices calling, footsteps passing, the roar of engines and that little patch of flowers amidst it all. She could remember it all so clearly; so simply, the old tree around which the flowers grew, deep within the city’s centre and the pale light that fell down that morning. She remembered the hand that held her own, the warmth of it, but the voice that spoke was blurred and hazy, and as she looked up with an innocent smile, a blank face returned in kind.

No matter how she tried, she could not remember that face, or that voice, or that name. It eluded her, ever and always, and still in some small way it gave her peace.

A dull drone broke her from her reverie the sound of Selen’s streets bringing her back into reality while in the distance a bell tolled. The clock tower stood amidst the spires of the city, the tallest of the towers where the hands of a clock span, where machinery that had baffled the minds of mages for generations turned slowly and every hour a heavy bell tolled out.

Alda rose from her seat by the fountain stretching her arms as she turned her gaze towards the clear blue sky above, dotted with roaming clouds. She had a good half hour before she needed to arrive and a twenty minute jog to her destination; if she took the right route, onwards and upwards towards the city centre and the noble quarter where the Academy lay in wait.

The Elliene Royal Academy had stood since near the country’s founding and when the old capital fell had moved to Selen where it had remained for fifty years. In that time the finest examples of knights, adventurers, mages and scholars had been produced by the Federations most prestigious academy. It had access to research materials that mages craved, famous adventurers gave lecturers on a daily basis, it was the training ground for The Elliene Royal Guard and Knights core. The building itself sat in the heart of the noble district, above the rings of houses, nestled near the military barracks and the Adventurer’s guild embassy to Elliene, an entrance to the Selen dungeon within riding distance. The only other places that held anywhere near such importance were the cathedral that bordered the noble and freeman quarters and of course the royal palace itself that sat atop Selen hill. Studying at the academy was a privilege only those with extreme talent and skill were permitted entry through its gates, and it was not just students, grown men and women as well as children were often taken to the academy either for their safety, to improve skills or introduce new theories, magic or discoveries to the wider world. And Alda had had her place reserved since the moment she was born.

The lessons didn’t really appeal to her, that wasn’t what she cared about, not in the slightest, instead for the first time she would be allowed to make friends with people her own age. This would be the start, the start of her new life, and the key to life was preparation!

She’d arrive with time to spare before orientation began then she’d attend the opening ceremony, after that being assigned her room and finally taking her first class where she would meet her lifelong friends.

For once she’d be able to talk to people who weren’t members of the clergy.

Alda grinned looking up the road leading towards the noble quarter and her waiting future.

Of course she couldn’t take that road, it would be packed, many in attendance at the academy were the children of nobles, most of whom wanted to make a grand entrance. The streets would be clogged with carriages and other more peculiar means of transportation. And that left her walking along the market roads, she smiled to herself and began her journey.

Elliene was a capital for trade, it sat firmly at the fore of the federation with trade roads running out into all kingdoms, goods came in from elves, dwarves and humans alike. It was a flourishing business the city filled with speciality shops and various other establishments. The only other markets that could conceivably match Selen would be those of the empire resting by the east sea where goods from across the water came in.

Alda jogged along the street an airy smile on her face, she passed storefronts with magnificent displays and coloured signage hanging above, while people called out roaming back and forth with carts selling all manner of foods and other goods. The street was quiet but far from empty, most people would be working at this hour of the day it was only the very young or the very old that walked the streets, and they did so with impunity. Alda just stared ahead with a grin, wearing her uniform with pride. The wait was killing her!

She closed her eyes grinning, she could picture it her life was finally going to get interesting. Under military training she’d perform drills with her new comrades, with the adventurers they’d go off on expeditions, they’d study and research new topics in magic and further their understanding of the world as scholars, it was perfect. She laughed opening her eyes, and crashing into the old man standing but a half pace in front of her.

Alda released a cry stumbling backwards, a heavy clatter sounding out as the old man’s coin pouch went tumbling to the ground, sending silver coins scattering about the street. “Ah, I’m sorry!” Alda apologised hurriedly as a young man (who she assumed was the old man’s grandson) stepping forwards to steady the old man. Alda moved as fast as she could gathering the spilt coins and returning them to the leather drawstring bag that had fallen down, before passing it back her head lowered. She’d been too preoccupied, hadn’t looked where she was going, this was her fault beginning to end. “I’m really sorry, ah I’ll help you get to where you need to go, it looks like you could use a hand.” She pushed reaching out to take hold of the old man’s arm.

“Ah, that’s unnecessary, you seem like you’re in a hurry. Come on Gramps lets...” The young man made to leave before the old man cut him off.

“Thank you dear, Illan here is no help, he’s for too skinny for that. We’re heading off to Stoda’s bar, come on!” The old man gave a creaky grin before shambling forwards. Well maybe Alda would be a little late but that just meant she’d miss orientation, she could do that in her own time, the only problem here was their destination.

Stoda’s bar, it was a seedy little pub hidden deep within the slums. The serfs who worked for a given lord as indentured employees (mainly criminals and slaves along with their families) took residence by the cities outer wall, from there inwards were the peasants and then the freemen, finally with the nobles sitting safe in the city’s centre.

And the slums, they sat between the peasants and the freemen, refugees mostly; they neither had a patron to work for, or a business of their own, they bordered the ring between the two areas and sat within the blocks of shops hidden away from sight, the only entrances through thin back alleys where disease and death ran rampant. There was little the city could do.

Of course amidst it all Stoda’s bar was special, it was the root of many of Selen’s problems. The building was owned by a group referred to as Dallion, a ‘legal’ gang. They did nothing wrong maintaining a barrier of plausible deniability and veneer of lawful behaviour to keep them from the watchful eyes of the guards; any illegal action was taken through splinter cells, while the main group gave out loans at extortionate rates, press ganged and bullied business out of protection money claiming to run a mercenary side business, they bypassed the law, jumping through loopholes and appearing at the worst possible times for all. Even among the other gangs within the city they were particularly vile, in that nothing the guards could do would stop them. Even the king could not make a move without inciting full on war within the city streets. There exact numbers were unknown, as was their leader, and their chain of command and this anonymity leant them a fear all of their own.

Alda had a bad feeling about this.

They passed into a dimly lit alley, the young man, Illan, adopting a sickly expression as they began to move through the slums, high walls and narrow alleys blocking out the sun above and drowning them in twilight. Sickness and poverty were everywhere; children sat starving on door fronts, a constant drone of shouting filling the air.

And despite all that the old man still held a peaceful expression on his face. He seemed perfectly relaxed as if he was only taking a garden stroll. Maybe he was senile? Still he seemed to know where he was going, guiding the group ever deeper into the slums, navigating the labyrinth until at last that den of cutthroats and thieves came into clear view.

It was seedy, perfectly so, it was built from old worn out wood with a faded coat of white wash. Heavily shuttered windows looked out onto the street, the smell of beer and other far less pleasant concoctions drifting out of its front doors alongside warped music created by some old and damaged magical device. Standing guard outside were two men; burly and heavily scarred, almost identical with their shaven heads and matching uniforms; dark grey shirts, and trousers with high leather boots like those of soldiers, about their’ shoulders a black cloak fluttered. It bore the symbol of Dallion, their emblem a dog staring up towards the sun, painted in mixed shades of red. And to greet the trio to this establishment, standing firm in the centre of the road, a woman in similar garb stood.

She was petite in size, a nearing four-foot-ten in height, she was slender and to guess her age nearing mid-twenties. Her eyes were sharp slits from which dull malice flowed, brown hair tied back falling about the back of her head in waves. She seemed dispassionate looking on at all with disdain. They approached.

“I have my payment.” The old man smiled sallying forth without fear, holding up the leather drawstring bag and handing it to the woman with a smile. “That’s twelve Gelding.” The old man grinned turning around to leave as if nothing had happened, like he had simply paid for his groceries and now wanted to go on his way.

“You owe us fourteen,” the woman called after him, her voice slick with ice. Alda felt her stomach dropping, this was just wrong, it felt so wrong. Whatever this was it felt somehow dangerous – more than was apparent– she couldn’t be sure whether it was just her instincts telling her that or something more. But she couldn’t run now, not if she wanted to keep her conscience clean.

“Hmm, you said I’d owe you twelve, that’s all the money I have.” The old man replied in a wavering tone full of cracks and pops before he continued to walk away. He was clearly senile.

Illan blanched stepping in front his grandfather to face the woman, “please you’ve already taken all we have what more do you want? you tricked my grandfather into one of your’ deals now take your’ money and let us leave, what more do you want?” his face was covered in sweat, his hands shaking as he spoke.

“I don’t want anything; I don’t care if you leave.” The woman spoke with a sigh, Illan calming slightly a look of relief appearing on his face before being promptly wiped away by a harsh reality. The woman drew a knife, “of course what I want has nothing to do with this. The old man signed a contract, according to the law if he can’t pay by the deadline your’ house belongs to Dallion. Today is the deadline, and interest puts what you owe us at fourteen gelding after two weeks, I advise you either pay or leave. You’ll need to find somewhere else to stay.”

The young man froze his eyes bulging in his head as he reached out a hand, “Then give us back our money, it’s all we have.” He was desperate even Alda could see that, things were slowly going from bad to worse.

“Come on Illan it’s time to go, I need my nap.” The old man yawned moving away from the scene, but his grandson did not budge.

“We should go, they’re not going to give your’ money back.” Alda urged stepping forwards grabbing onto Illan’s shoulder.

The man did not listen, instead he moved.

Illan lunged forwards grabbing onto the leather bag holding his grandfathers money ripping it from the woman’s grasp the bag falling to the ground. The woman responded with a swing of her blade a pulse of green energy following after the day-lit steel. Alda tugged on Illan’s shoulder dragging him backwards, avoiding both the knife and the gust of wind that followed crashing into a nearby house with enough force to leave a deep and ugly gash. “Run!” Alda yelled tossing the man backwards to the ground where he grabbed the fallen coins and turned to flee. It seemed like she’d be doing this alone, facing off against the gang member the two burly individuals who had been guarding the door sidling forth, each wielding an iron mace. It looked like she was in for one hell of a fight.

Alda sighed, it was best to get it over with quickly.

In the distance the bell tolled half-past; he was going to be so very late. He should have arrived by now, but no; he’d gotten lost. He was fairly sure he’d gone even deeper in the city and further from his destination. Gorren had wondered off the beaten path and into a dusty street where the sun could barely reach. He was a demon king; he’d ruled over an entire kingdom in his time, governed war and orchestrated death, But this was just embarrassing!

“Damn it all!” He yelled slamming his foot into a nearby crate kicking it down a small flight of stairs leading deeper into the slums. Itto gurgled slightly from its place within his backpack; Go had deemed it a bad idea to have a slime following him around in the city, especially one the size of a large dog (it had grown over the past few years). He sighed making his way down the stairs towards where the fallen crate had landed kicking it to the side of the street.

Well there was no way he’d arrive on time now, maybe he should just suck it up and ask for directions, his pride as a demon king be damned. After all, that was a far lesser pain than dealing with Eitta when she was in one of her moods.

Go shuddered slightly at the thought.

He shoved his hands deep within his pocket and kept walking. He’d ask the next person he met, although this likely wasn’t the best place for that – then he’d wait until he got out of the slums before asking for directions. That was a much safer bet. Go sighed passing by an old man mumbling quietly to himself a young man hurriedly pushing him along a large bag under one arm. This really didn’t seem like the best neighbourhood. “I’d better get out of here fast or...” Gorren’s words were cut off, a small pulse of magic travelling through the air, it seemed something interesting was going on. Well he might as well take a look.

Go broke into a jog Itto gurgling away within his backpack, as he made his way swiftly towards the location of the outburst of mana. And as he ran he could feel it, the energy gathering up ahead, it seemed almost familiar.

He rushed on, a small grin forming across his face, sure enough something interesting was definitely going on. Go pushed ahead turning a corner and pushing ahead the scene before him confirming his suspicions. A young unarmed woman, against three well equipped opponents, it was hardly a fair fight, not fair at all. Gorren laughed slightly pushing ahead keeping to the shadows of the side wall a hint of magic concealing the sound of his footsteps as he spurred his body as fast as his lanky frame would allow.

He drew close within an instant, bursting from the shadows, striking hard and striking true.

Go hit upon the group that had until a moment ago stood at an impasse each waiting for the other to make the first move, and while they were preoccupied he stole the initiative. Gorren moved with purpose, silencing his footsteps as much as possible coming behind them in a flash.

He threw out one hand, from which a magic circle with the lustre of fresh ink expanding; a haze of black mist spewing out, and with the other he took the hand of the girl. She froze for a moment but he tightened his grip and gave her a grin dragging her forwards into a run, rushing away and up the street. “Run!” He laughed dragging her along with him, this was great, absolutely perfect, he’d escape the alleys and now he had someone to ask for directions.

“After them!” a woman’s voice yelled, Go turning to look over his shoulder as the trio escaped the mist he had created. It seemed they knew at least enough magic to dispel a weak casting of [Haze]*1, they were clearly no hedge-mages*2.

“Who the hell are you?” The girl questioned panicked.

“My names Go, you’re welcome now run faster!” He smiled staring dead ahead the girl pulling her hand away from his, a tense irritation making its way onto an otherwise beautiful face.

“I can handle thugs like those myself, you’re just putting yourself in danger!” She yelled at him as their opponents slowly disappeared behind them, curses and obscenities following cast by harsh voices drifting in their’ wake.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you should, and It’s not like I’m defenceless you know.”

“I’m not a dainty little girl I can handle myself! Why the hell would you just...” She began to complain Gorren cutting her off.

“Of course you can handle yourself, I’m not an idiot, and you’d be a pretty pathetic hero otherwise.”

Alda stopped in her tracks staring at Go for a long moment with wide open eyes of blue. Gorren ground to a halt turning on his heels. She’d frozen...

It seemed their pursuers were drawing closer by the second, they didn’t have time to stand around and dawdle. Now they needed to run, Go reached out grabbing Alda’s hand and pulling her along taking a side alley away and deeper into the slums. What kind of Hero just froze up out of the blue? Not to mention he didn’t get why she was here at all, she had been summoned a few years before the war began in his first run through, lots of things had changed since he rewind but this was too much. Things just seemed to get more complex by the day.

Well at least now he had an excuse when Eitta asked why he was late.