ALL NOVEL 39: Thief
Tom blinked twice in rapid succession in the hopes that reality would transfigure itself into a different iteration— any iteration— except the one that lay before him. He wasn’t quite shocked, no and neither was he scared or intimidated; the emotion he felt in the moment was closer to befuddlement.
On the other side of the gate lay a rough, uneven dirt road that led to the main drag of a squalid town. The sheer juxtaposition between the pristine cleanliness of the Noble District and the unkempt dirtiness of the crowded street before him packed chockfull of people dressed in worn out, occasionally tattered clothing left Tom shocked. The stench of unwashed bodies wafted towards the gateway’s entrance, carried forth by a light breeze that would have otherwise been a welcoming one. The loud, strident noise created by dozens, if not hundreds of voices overlapping each other made for a disquieting cacophony—- Tom had never been much for crowds and that hadn’t been a problem back in his hometown or for that matter, even the Noble District.
Gone were the elegant marble and refined brick houses complete with their picturesque verandas and well-maintained, colourful small gardens. Ramshackle huts and repurposed cloth tents lined the wide dirt road the gateway opened into, though, thankfully the Nameless District didn’t seem completely devoid of brick and mortar civilization as Tom spotted a few larger, more robust buildings deeper into the Nameless District.
“Well lad, off you go,” Nvein’s voice boomed behind him, snapping him back to reality.
Wiping the unfamiliarity from his eyes, Tom tried to conceal his dismay as he nodded, first to Nvein and then to Serawin, before he took his first step onto the Nameless District’s soil.
“Work your way up to this side and buy me some Aurora Ale one day, eh?” Serawin called out to him as the heavy gates began to creak shut.
“That day might come sooner than you think,” Tom cheekily yelled out a response back as the door was inches away from being completely shut.
A slam echoed behind him as the entryway to the Noble District was sealed shut.
“Now then.” Tom groaned, followed by a long, weary sigh. “How did things reach this point again?”
It wasn’t like Tom had a complete aversion to living the Nameless District due to its less-than-stellar landscape, but the idea of there being such a shoddy, beaten down in a world that had access to something as convenient as magic just rankled at his sensibilities.
‘Though I suppose magic costs money. Or resources. And the Nobles clearly don’t care about the Nameless District.’
“Same story, different world,” Tom muttered under his breath, eyeing the chaotic district that stretched on for miles. “Oh well, not like I have a choice.”
“Before that though..,” Tom snapped his index finger and thumb together for dramatic flair, if for no other reason than to liven his mood a little.
[Display name has been changed to Aloeric Fold]
“That should take care of the Royal Knights, when they come looking,” he mused, words audible to only himself as he walked towards the town wondering what all the fuss was about. Serawin and Nvein might have seen his face, but even if they somehow managed to pinpoint him as the person who impersonated Zenakris—which was a bit of a long shot considering how many people were ferried in and out of the gates on a daily basis, they would know about his disguise ability, implying that they had no reason to believe the visage he’d exposed was the real him.
‘Or they use some magic I’m unaware of and find me anyway, which…. well, not much I can do there.’
The trick to surviving highly adverse scenarios in a foreign territory, as Tom was coming to realise, was to not worry about the what if’s and focus on the here and now.
As Tom drew nearer to the town, the garbled cacophony gained definition. He was now close enough to pick up on a few conversations in the sea of voices, eager to learn more about the Nameless District.
“Selling peak quality battleaxes! Feel free to test them out before you buy!”
“Tinctures and concoctions! From common illnesses to minor poison cures, we’ve got them all!”
“Offering carries to the Zelez Dungeon! Payment upfront!”
“Master Derzuin is accepting five new students. If you think you got what it takes, line up!”
Tom’s eyebrows rose a little. Where he had expected an air of despair and jealousy, he found an entrepreneurial spirit instead— in all honesty, he was baffled. Were these people not angry at how the Nobles chose to treat them?
He scrutinised the faces in his immediate line of sight, once again finding himself surprised. Youthful faces brimming with vigour and determination was the sight that greeted him instead of the time-worn faces of the elderly. That, in itself, had not surprised Tom, but the more he swivelled his neck to get a wider view, the deeper the realisation sunk in— he couldn’t spot anyone that looked a day over thirty five, at least by Earth’s standards.
He narrowed the possibilities down to the two most likely scenarios. Either the older townsfolk had high enough levels to slow down the effect of ageing, at least externally, by virtue of a powerful Physical Stat or for some reason, the elderly population of the Nameless District was almost negligible.
‘Coming here was the right decision.’
Well, it wasn’t like Tom had much say in the whole process but there were a few points where, with a little bit of luck and the element of surprise he might have gotten away.
Nonetheless, the chaotic Nameless District bode well for him; the only remaining question being if the district had an inclination to maintain a record of each of its residents.
‘Well, there’s only one way to find that out.’
Hood obscuring his facial features, Tom stepped into the dense crowd, allowing himself to be swept away with the majority. The pungent odour that had wafted past him returned in full force, a mix of sweat, grime and a distinct, rancid smell that reminded him of his time in the Zelez Dungeon blending together to assail his nostrils. There were people on either side of him, above him and behind him, a few even trying to push past him but giving up after they realised that he wasn’t easily budged.
The sights— there was so much to see, yet at the same time, so little. With the crowd blocking most of his view Tom couldn’t really get a good look at the wares the shopkeepers were pedalling, but with every step he took he got a little more breathing room as the crowd began to thin out. In the midst of all the hubbub, Tom himself was surprised that he noticed a hand reaching out towards him, more specifically, reaching for his robe’s inner pocket.
Instinct guided his actions as Tom sidestepped to the right, pressing against a man dressed in a raggedly tunic. His survival instinct, honed across life and death experiences he had never signed up for, interpreted the grabbing motion as a lunge. There was little hesitation as Tom clawed his two hands onto the man’s extended arms, before yanking him forward full force.
A startled yelp was cried out as Tom felt the man’s momentum shift in his direction, the sudden burst of force that he’d applied too overwhelming for him to resist. Before the two parties could crash, Tom’s knee shot out towards the burnished-copper haired man’s abdomen, causing him to crumple to the ground.
The passerby that he’d bumped into earlier wore a stunned expression on his face, clearly shocked by how fast Tom had dispatched another person for seemingly no reason.
Tom himself finally felt the adrenaline surge recede as he mentally deemed the threat neutralised. Almost immediately after, a pang of guilt washed over him as he realised what he had done— he wasn’t fighting monsters and Nether creatures anymore, but people. That said, he didn’t feel any guilt for defending himself, no— he only hoped to ingrain this experience in the hopes that he would be able to exercise mercy if such a situation were to repeat itself.
The real question though was…. why was he of all the people in this damned town the one to get attacked by a random man?
“Thief!” The shrill cry of a woman rang out behind him.