Hungry Necromancer

My little mouse does well at giving me the tour of the city. Like I requested, we went out and found a store owner rich enough to have the silver equivalent of a gold lying around in their store.

The search was not as hard as I thought it would be, the mouse had more than a few places of choice to go to just off the top of his head. A good sign of a prosperous city if there is any. 

In the end though, we had to go deeper into the city than I was originally comfortable with to find our guy.

A little something I noticed as we went is the incline. The further away from the wall we were the deeper the incline is. We even got to a point where horses and carriages weren't permitted in because of the sloppy slope.

From this little observation I could tell the city was built around something, I'm not sure what but I'm sure it exists deep within the city. 

To find it would mean dedicating about half a day on foot just trying to get through all the little checkpoints scattered around, the imposing silent people who dressed just like the old Diviner did and parted crowds wherever they went, and perhaps even worse; the illegal markets that sprung up in the oddest places. 

These markets were usually composed of three to seven merchants selling their wares and exhausting passers-by who simply just wanted to get through. 

Hilariously, they begin to disperse the moment they catch sight or get word of a 'flatfoot' coming up. They quickly upheave their wares, pushing and trampling on whoever is in their way as they make their escape. Some, desperate enough leave their wares entirely.

It took a bit of travel but we got down to the first strata of the city and were greeted by the creative side of the beautiful bustling place. 

Ground zero or the Gate didn't have nearly enough of the wealth this place hides and according to my little mouse, the first strata of the city was barely scratching the surface.

The first strata is almost indistinguishable from ground zero, so much so that I didn't even realize when we strolled into a whole new class of citizens, merchants and the breeding ground for wannabe Nobles.

However, the strata is quick to boast its differences. There are merchants on every corner, in their own shops lounging or attending to the customers that come for their good and services. 

The Major difference between these merchants and the ones close to the gate is simple; they didn't holler at me.

To have so much faith in the sales of a single day that you don't even have to advertise must be a dream for the merchants that scramble at the call of a flatfoot approaching. And these guys were living it.

The strata isn't just the levelling ground for merchants however. Living standards are visibly improved with less children rolling on the concrete floor and more rolling in the private gardens their middle-class station affords them.

It is here I meet an artificer.

The engineer of the Medieval age if there ever was one. However, just like most things I've come across in this world, there's a little twist at the end of the day. For once I'm just glad it isn't sinister.

Artificers in this world worked with mana and magic to bring life to their creations. There are several either incomplete or simply funny looking weapons hung on the walls of the workshop as we enter. 

The artificer himself is nowhere to be seen according to his young chubby apprentice at the desk.

For a moment I consider increasing the capacity of my gem, the ring that sat on my fore finger storing a third of my mana for emergency uses. 

As it stood, a third of my mana could create two ghouls, raise a couple of zombie fodder and spit out quite a bit of Death Grip.

With the little I have in my arsenal I feel that's enough and simply thank the apprentice for the change.

However, upon leaving the shop I'm struck with an overwhelming feeling to walk back in and shop a little bit. The apprentice had done a good job advertising the light and heavy armour embedded and enchanted with refillable barrier spells.

Truly a tempting piece of armoury considering how often I'm thrown around in battles. Would work spectacularly against the Cult and their Gamma warriors, slinging all sorts of spells my way.

With the sort of money I have in hand I could buy about twenty pieces of it too. However, call me crazy but I don't just feel it's to my style. I've been walking around and fighting pretty well with the simply purple cloak, top and trouser set I have now.

So reasonably I ask if the enchantments can be applied onto my current clothes. Unfortunately, the artificer here is only skilled enough to work on certain materials even with the aid of the gems, and my clothes are simply not compatible.

With all that decided, I pick off where I left off with change in my pockets and my mouse leading me to the next stop; a stable for the carriage.

Along the way to the strata, the mouse did well to point out the many little taverns and public houses I could head to for some gossip. 

A lot of them seem to be concentrated at ground zero; close to the wall. I guess that made some sort of sense. People coming in from outside are always looking for food, shelter and a drink, and these places provided at least two of those at a time.

But that's all by the way now. Now we head to where we get things started. The undergrounds.

***

There truly is only one place to head to for the your less than legal services. Getting registered as a Mafiel citizen out of thin air is one of such services and the city's dirty underbelly is the place you want to be asking around for such.

In complete contrast to what I've seen all day long touring around the city, its underbelly is disgusting, overpopulated and an all-round wretched place to look at much less live in. 

It's almost as if the glowing metropolis I stepped out from never existed in the first place. Alas, that is the nature of these things.

The underground isn't completely underground and more importantly, it isn't all centred in one place. 

The generally area of the city regarded as its underbelly, the shining stars darkest shadow and all the crude names to call would be the Northernmost part of the city.

The direct opposite to where I came in through. 

My little mouse narrates how the people there are like mould on the wall; homeless refuges camping out wherever the light won't reach in tents and even in borrows deep in the ground, mixing and matching with their own faeces regretting and cursing both God and Devil for the misfortunes of their lives.

He says that's the best place to go to for my registration. However, I'm a bit time sensitive right now so there's another place and it's right below our feet.

The undergrounds of the underground.

Upon tunnelling deep through an unsuspecting hatch in an equally innocent looking man's home, I find that this underground isn't much different from what he's described the Northernmost wall to be like.

There are homeless people rolling around in the dirt and people sipping from brown water, many of them elves. 

Curiously, the place is far too large and expansive to be just the underneath of a single home. The few and far between torches that hung on the walls and the lamps held in hands that light the way ahead answer this question.

The space has been expertly excavated and filled out with tunnels leading out from many different corners and fell dangerously from the top, meaning there are many homes like the inconspicuous one I passed through to get here then.

The mouse and I walk through the rather damp and pungent smelling place without causing any trouble until we reach where the lights are, where people who were teetering on the edge gathered; you'd never believe how many odd looks being relatively clean rewards you until you're down in ghettos like this.

The lights mainly illuminate the crude kitchens set up by helpers from up above ground but as we walk further in, we come across tailors and smithies. All with simple workshops.

Guided by the mouse none of these places turn out to be our final destination. Instead, we come to a stop and a sense of finality washes over me as I take in the look of a somewhat proper building at last. 

I suppose every little society has its leaderships.

"Go in. Speak with her, tell her what you want and she'll tell you what you can give." 

This is all the help I get from my little mouse before he steps aside and leaves the completion of this journey to me.

Time to get registered, I guess.