III. hustling streets

The good and bad thing about my “job” was that it more often involved dispatching minions than fieldwork, which not only meant that I’d get bored quite often, but also that the general population did not know my face.

The imperial capital, Tomland, made no sense. I didn’t know who Tom was and the devs repeatedly thwarted my attempts to rename it to Rafaeland. It originally belonged to the elves, yet the dragonfolk that made up most of its population seemed to have all sorts of accommodations, from holes in seats to put their tails in, to wider hallways so they could fit their wings. Furthermore, the city was rife with stairless towers, floating landmasses hosting entire neighborhoods, and a misty chasm between my palace and everything else.

But no—lore dictated that it belonged to the elves before dragonfolk. Heaven forbid we have any culture outside of conquering. (Like the British.)

To add to this nonsense, according to my backstory (Part IV), I'd given up my wings in exchange for more power. Where literally every other dragonfolk could’ve flown across the chasm, I had to transform the mist into ice to cross it. As fish in an aquarium, inhabitants of Sherepaha could decide where to swim, when to eat, who to follow; however, we could not control what came Before.

Upon crossing the chasm, I shattered the makeshift ice bridge with a kick. It did nothing to quell my fury, but at least the shards reflecting the mist’s pastel colors looked pretty.

Tomland reared its overdesigned head at the horizon. As I approached, I heard no screams, no blades clashing, although… the temperature did seem to drop all of a sudden…

“Ugh.”

Selene. I would’ve hoped Aelius would distract him, but alas; at the distance, a pale white dot appeared and disappeared through the mist; he was the storm that was approaching. As Selene’s abilities increased by an order of magnitude around hydro and frost (thanks to his Heart of Ice passive), so did his teleportation range.

I reached Tomland as a fugitive. Where I expected chaos, where was... nothing. 

Trains ran across their floating tracks. 

Dragonfolk flew in orderly lines above me.

 Foreigners walked below. 

Sellers sold.

Buyers bought. 

A tourist littering was immediately beheaded by passersby. 

With Selene still on my track, I couldn't contemplate this for long, but I would've lied if I'd said it didn't shock me.

Other cities could fold to panic, but not Tomland. Because of dragonfolk pride? Was that it? It could also be Kiya—the city's strongest general who'd been defeated during the latest update—enforcing order.

Another bit of nonsense: Kiya was a dark elf. Why would she be on the side of those who invaded her homeland? In-game information had yet to reveal this. When I’d asked her about it, she’d just said that her head hurt and to stop asking dumb questions.

Selene was close enough that I could see him carrying none other than an unconscious Aelius. By this point, I was deep within the capital, heading towards the barracks where Kiya resided. If Selene and I fought, we’d probably destroy half the city. I’d only been able to down him in one hit last time because he’d had his back turned on me.

What did he WANT?

Why was I so worried about destroying the city, anyway? Anyone who died would respawn. They’d drift in the sea of After for a few minutes in torturous agony, but it’d be fine eventually.

I asked a peddler selling poisoned daggers, “Have you seen the news?”

Said peddler was a foreigner—a human, strangely enough. Dragonfolk and elves called them “short ears” as a slur, Seers for short (to avoid copyright infringement). “That the world is ending?” He replied. “Yes.”

“You appear quite serene to me, despite.”

“Yeahh. Are you a local?” I nodded. “Then you should know it’s business as planned for us. If you want to act like a brute, you can always go to Shortyearbyen. Or the West.”

Selene was close enough that locals had begun to point at him, probably wondering why a Seer jumped mid-air using makeshift ice platforms instead of just walking like a normal person. He’d always been dramatic like that. “Thank you,” I told the peddler. “I’ll take a dagger.”

“Right up, lass! It’ll be—WOW.”

I handed him an entire bag of gold. “I’m actually the General. The castle is open. Have fun.”

He didn’t believe me, understandably so, but I hoped I’d planted a strong enough seed of doubt that he’d at least consider raiding it. That he’d tell his friends or something. That this city would do anything.

I reached the barracks—oversized beige cubes like the rest of the local architecture—around the time Selene yelled, “There you are!”

This was also around the time it dawned on me that he hadn’t cast a spell yet because his hands were occupied with the unconscious body of his "former" best friend. While ice-surfing, he lunged at me.

I yawned.

Kiya zoomed out of the barracks with her bow in hand. Selene managed to spin around before she smashed him with it, so as to not hurt his best bro, after which he crashed against a floating house nearby, whose inhabitants flocked out to witness the fight.

Kiya’s platinum blond hair contrasted against her skin, by far the darkest out of any soldier (since most soldiers didn’t fight against their own people). Her fuchsia eyes glowed with ire. “SeleNEEE!” She cried. “Have you finally decided to betray us!?”

Selene was to the cobblestone path what a pancake was to a pan. Still, he held onto Aelius. “Damn… you… this is… between Rafaela and I."

I could see how Kiya could misinterpret this as him turning against me. She’d told me multiple times that he would, someday. She was right, at least according to the outline. Just not today. At the moment, he tried to shackle me back to the palace to bring order back to the empire. Kiya’s fist shook; her bow cracked. “How dare you call the General by her name? AGAIN?”

Wobbling, Selene stood up. Since he refused to let Aelius go, he still couldn’t cast any advanced spells. While I stood behind Kiya, yawning again, he told me, “You—are you truly abandoning your duties? How could you? Why? Your country needs you!”

“He’s gone mad,” I said. “I slaughtered his friend. He’s been like that ever since.”

“Stop lying you… you…!” Selene trailed off. He didn’t look mad anymore. The poor thing truly thought power was tantamount to responsibility. At the end of Part 1, when Aelius and his party had first met me, after their humiliating defeat, Selene had made the following deal: to become my apprentice in exchange for his friends’ lives. No one but Kiya, he and I knew this, for his friends had all been unconscious. “Are you truly that selfish?”

Fast answer: “Yes.” Long answer: “I have a dream. The noble heart you so pathetically try to bury would never understand.”

“What dream is so important that you’d abandon your people when they need you the most?”

By this point, a crowd had formed around us, including the inhabitants of the house Selene had stamped his face into earlier. Even Kiya turned to glance at me from above her shoulder.

Once upon a time, when I was a drawing, a string of code and a one-page outline, I used to have no trouble with crowds. In fact, I used to be the kind of person who would scream and throw a tantrum as my plans were thwarted by the hero and his group of misfits.

How many months… years ago was that?

The family flying above me did not even have any dialogue; they were meant to stand outside their house as a way to make the world seem “alive”.

That was the problem: we were alive. Experiences shaped their—and my—perception of the world.

“Once upon a time…” I began, then trailed off. The crowd grew. They could have no dialogue to share with players from Beyond, but they sure prattled among themselves. “Once… it’ll be easier if I sing it.”

“Fuck off,” Selene said.

Kiya failed to smash him with her bow again because she was too stunned to process his complete lack of education. “…huh? Sing?”

Sing.

I opened my suitcase.

Around the time Aelius opened his eyes, I took out my lyre.

“You can’t be serious.” That was Selene, yapping again. “You can’t… no way. Stop. Stop it. You’re in public. Stop being a clown.”

A year later, exactly, I would think back on this moment.