Four Vagrants and a Gem

He pivoted on his heel and vanished before I could utter another word. A foolish, dawning realization pierced the silence he left in his wake: I hadn't even asked his name. In this entire world, I now knew the name of only one person—that pompous idiot of a king, Ramstaros Imber IX. Or was it the third? Forgive me, but my mind keeps snagging on "the third." It just feels more fitting for a man of his caliber, even though I'm certain he's the ninth.

My gaze drifted back to the four disparate souls who had, somehow, become my responsibility. The uncanny old man was beaming, his face a roadmap of laugh lines so deep it seemed he was perpetually on the verge of a joyous explosion. The sharp-tongued woman, who wore her beauty like a suit of armor, was pouting, her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. And the ethereal one, the quiet beauty who seemed to float more than walk, observed the unfolding scene with those same placid, inscrutable eyes. The only one who appeared to grasp the nuance of the situation was the man from Nihon, the one in the spectacles.

He placed a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. "I understand, friend," he said, his voice a low murmur. "You intended it as a jest, but he perceived it as an insult."

Well, Four-Eyes, I certainly misjudged you. So, a compassionate spirit resided beneath that analytical facade. If I could, I would take back the patronizing flick I’d given his ear earlier. The petty gesture now filled me with a pang of regret.

Untying the leather cord, I tipped the pouch’s contents into my palm. Instead of the familiar gleam of copper, silver, or gold, a cascade of coins I’d never seen on Terra spilled forth. They were crafted from lustrous metals in shades of vivid crimson, deep azure, and glossy emerald, and they seemed to pulse with a life of their own, catching the light in a dazzling display. Their sheer beauty suggested they held significant value, but what that value was, I hadn't the faintest idea.

With our pockets slightly heavier and our mysterious benefactor gone, we stepped out onto the main thoroughfare. The ambassador’s description hadn't done it justice. The road was immense, a river of polished alabaster slabs, fitted so perfectly they appeared as a single, seamless expanse. A dozen cars could have driven abreast with room to spare. Set far back from the road on either side were grand manors, each boasting its own private fields and manicured gardens—likely the estates of the lowest tier of nobility.

We followed the stately avenue until it opened into a grand plaza, a space so vast it could have swallowed four football fields whole. Its heart was a maelstrom of activity, a vibrant, chaotic symphony of life. The air thrummed with a thousand voices, with bursts of laughter, and with the rhythmic clatter of hooves on stone as carriages of every conceivable shape and size navigated the throng. A sprawling, makeshift marketplace flanked the plaza, its stalls forming a colorful canyon of exotic fruits, sizzling meats, and intricate handicrafts through which the crowd flowed like a current. It seemed that while the Residential District we’d passed through was governed by strict commercial regulations, this public square was a free-for-all, a bustling nexus of trade.

Dominating the center of it all was a colossal statue, one that rivaled Paris’s Arc de Triomphe in height. It depicted a magnificent, stylized bird, its wings swept back as if in the final, powerful downstroke of flight. This, according to the lore our guide had shared, was the mythical creature that had carried the first humans—the nation's founding ancestors—to this sky-faring archipelago thousands of cycles ago. In this realm, where a cycle equated to a year, the legend was ancient. The great bird, absent for centuries, was now considered extinct, a creature of myth.

But ancient legends were a problem for another day. The far more pressing issue was what we were going to do. Had we already ceased to be a "we"?

I gave the coin pouch a decisive jingle. "Alright, this is what he left us," I announced, drawing their attention. "So, what's the plan? If you want to go your separate ways, I'll divide this now. The choice is yours."

The man from Nihon, the thoughtful one, spoke first. "Are you going to the Explorer's Guild? To get registered."

"I'm not," I said flatly. "I have no intention of acquiring an official identity until I have a much clearer picture of what that entails in this world."

"That is unfortunate. I intend to register immediately, so I suppose I will be heading there alone." He glanced at the others. "Will any of you be joining me?"

"No," the acerbic woman snapped, her voice dripping with disdain. "I'm certainly not going anywhere with any of you men. You're all a bunch of degenerates." She wasn't entirely wrong; our initial thoughts had been less than noble. "Give me my share. I'll be on my way."

"As you wish, milady," I said with a theatrical flourish, opening the pouch. I counted out a share of the vibrant coins for her, then did the same for the man from Nihon.

"That knife, too," she said, pointing a slender finger at the blade tucked into my waistband. "It was mine."

It was a simple, utilitarian blade, the kind that seemed common here. She would need a means of defense more than I would. Without protest, I unhooked it and handed it to her.

Seeing this, the large, bashful man who had seemed so intimidating earlier looked at me with pleading eyes. "May I have my gun back as well?"

"No." My voice was firm, though I tried to soften the blow. "Sorry, pal. This one, I'm keeping."

His shoulders slumped as he visibly deflated. "Oh. Okay. That's fine. You can keep it." For a man of his stature, he seemed remarkably timid, an ordinary person caught in an extraordinary circumstance.

"And you, old man?" I asked, turning to the smiling elder.

"To explore! To have fun!" he boomed, his voice cracking with an infectious enthusiasm.

"Right. Going your own way, I take it." I split the remaining coins with him, though I kept the single, peculiar gem the envoy had given me. He had called the coins "chump change" and given me the gem as a personal gesture. I didn't yet grasp the disparity in their worth, but dividing the money felt like the only fair thing to do.

As they all prepared to melt into the crowd, I spoke one last time. "Hey! Since we share a common origin and a rather bizarre fate, mind telling me your names? We might cross paths again. I'm Axel, by the way."

The Nihon man turned back, a slight grimace on his face as he sounded it out. "Ak-seru?"

"No, Axel. A-X-E-L."

"Ah, a codename!" His face lit up with understanding. "In that case," he declared with renewed vigor, "I shall be Kyoto!" He wasn't entirely wrong about the name; I'd lived with it so long it felt more mine than my own. Kyoto. It suited him.

The old man followed his lead, his wide grin stretching his wrinkles. "Voktah!" he roared, a name that boomed like a thunderclap. It was perfect.

I looked expectantly at the last member of our original party.

"We will not be meeting again," she stated, her voice as crisp as a winter morning. "And I have no need of your names." With that, she turned and was swallowed by the throng.

"Alright, then! I'll just call you Ms. Sexy Negligee if we ever do meet again!" I shouted after her with a teasing smirk. She didn't grant me so much as a backward glance.

"Well, I guess this is it," I said to Voktah and Kyoto. "Good luck out there." We shared one final nod before turning and heading in our separate directions.

My mind already racing with possibilities, I set a course eastward along the wide carriageway. I had walked for no more than a minute, the sounds of the marketplace beginning to recede behind me, when a strange prickling sensation crawled up the back of my neck. It was the faint yet undeniable feeling of being followed. Not by a curious guard or a common footpad, but by a presence that was both there and not there. A shadow tethered to my own.

I stopped, casting a casual glance over my shoulder. It was her. The ethereal beauty, the silent one. She had remained. I was beginning to wonder if she was some kind of phantom sent to haunt me.

I changed course, ducking into a narrow, less-trafficked alley that cut between two imposing manors. The air was cooler and quieter here. I waited, and she followed, her approach as silent as falling snow.

Folding my arms across my chest, I met her gaze directly. "Okay, we're alone now." Her own eyes, clear and deep, held mine without flinching, her expression as unreadable as ever. "If you wanted to speak privately, this is your chance."

Being followed by a woman of her arresting beauty was hardly a hardship, but I needed to know who she was—and what in the world she wanted from me.