The City of Odiar

The ringing of the telephone beside the auburn-haired man didn't faze him as he drooled all over the scattered mess of papers on his workspace. A mug stained with dark coffee on its insides observed his slumber, but it was his colleague, a long-haired gentleman, who woke him up.

"Rusl, you know sleeping on the clock isn't right," the man said, shaking him by the shoulder.

"Jusfivemoreminutes…" Rusl slurred.

The thirteen desks were all abuzz with activity except for this one. People were walking to and fro, stacks of papers were being passed around, telephones were being answered, yet none managed to wake Rusl up. The man couldn't fathom how Rusl continued sleeping when the whole office was filled with the clatter of typewriters and ringing telephones. Perhaps his senses, particularly his ears, had grown accustomed to the everyday noises.

The gentleman sighed and tucked the newspaper he was holding under his armpit. Feeling sorry about the caller patiently waiting, he picked up. "Hello? Ah, Antoinette? Yes, he's here—"

Before he could finish his sentence, the receiver was snatched away from his hand by none other than Rusl. Without a trace of sleepiness, his voice was loud and clear. "Ah, yes, yes. Sorry about that. No, I wasn't sleeping, matter of fact, I was too absorbed in the paperwork, it's thanks to Angelo that I picked up the call. You could've just paid me a visit, you know? It's just a teeny-tiny walk from… What? Yeah. U-huh. U-huh. Him too? Got it."

He put down the receiver and glared at Angelo. "Did you say something to her?"

"Like what? And why would I?"

"Never mind. Figured you want to climb the corporate ladder efficiently."

Angelo grinned. "And what? Lose the only person willing to teach me the ropes?"

Rusl threw his back at his chair and swiveled it so that he'd face Angelo. "You don't need me anymore, Angelo. Just… look at you. A month in and you're already tucking a newspaper in your arm like you've already done this a thousand times now. Girls were also stealing glances at you, you know? And mind you, it's not because of your long, black hair or anything… well, it might be, since it just made you, according to them, 'more attractive' because of it."

Angelo had a mischievous smirk as he teased the man. "Hey, don't get jealous of these genes, my good friend. Being a head turner has its drawbacks, too."

"Oh? Enlighten me, pretty boy."

"Well, if the government deemed it a crime, then I'd immediately be sent to the gallows. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Poor me."

Instead of going along with his joke, Rusl made a disgusted face. "Dude… I feel awkward right now, but I really should at least clap, right?"

"The joke fell flat, I know. Point is, there's nothing to be envious of. Having modest features meant fewer fights with the wife. If you know what I mean."

Following Angelo's gaze, Rusl scowled. "Seriously? I thought you—"

"Sigh, dense as ever. Once again, I'm not interested in Antoinette. I'm talking about you taking her to the hymeneal altar."

That at least put a smile and a blush on Rusl. Leaping from his seat, he gave Angelo a couple of hearty pats. "Aww, shush, you! You're making me blush here!"

"Are we good on that now?"

"Absolutely! Ha-ha-hah!"

Angelo inched his face closer to him, his face serious. "There's something I want you to make me understand, though."

"Sure. Anything for my best friend."

"Why can't you just go over there and, you know, make small talk? Antoinette surely had it the roughest among all of us here, working double shifts at different companies. A little conversation might cheer her up, just saying."

The one who just called, the secretary named Antoinette, was a lady with a straightforward attitude. Rarely seen interacting with the others, this hardworking secretary became the center of Rusl's life. Matter of fact, he's gazing at her general direction again, as if his eyes could pierce through the mountain of paperwork separating them.

That remark caught him off guard. "Wha-wha!? The hell you trying to say? I—ugh! Quiet down, idiot! She'll hear us!"

Angelo exaggeratedly craned his neck to check the perimeter. Nobody seemed to care. It's still eight in the morning, that's why. All the piled-up work by the graveyard shift was being finished by them. Besides, even if it's any other time, he doubts anybody would have time for gossip.

Rusl inched closer to whisper, "By the way, you done with the stuff?"

"I wouldn't be slacking off with you here if I weren't done with the reports. Never mind that, another field duty, right?"

"Right, almost forgot about that."

"The order was passed just now. Surely you still remember."

"Just pulling your leg, partner. Well, this sure beats sitting here hammering words anyway," He stretched his arms as if he did anything to the mountain of paperwork on his desk. Then, he donned the black coat hanging at the backrest of his chair. "Get yourself prepped. We leave in five."


Stepping outside the office, there's already a carriage waiting for them. The pair of cassowaries driving the body quietly sat on the stone pavement while the chauffeur greeted the two men with a tip of his hat.

Once the two boarded and closed the door, the chauffeur began whistling, prompting the birds to rise and move.

The streets of Odiar reflected the dire political state of the city. Poor urban planning with dirty, narrow roads filled with disgusting wastewater was commonplace. Aside from the wide main roads used by the upper classes and by everyone whenever there's a special occasion, everywhere else reeked of rot and urine.

Every face seen beyond the carriage's window reflected fatigue—a product of the faulty rule of a government in disarray. Nobody minded the stench. The back-breaking labor sapped them of all strength to even frown.

The carriage occasionally rattled and jumped as it travelled along the uneven, winding road or simply because it ran over the bodies of drunkards and the homeless, alive or dead.

"Odiar must be the worst city to live in nowadays," Angelo said as he gazed at the sorry state the city is in. "The Watchers aren't doing anything. Nobody's doing anything. It's like everyone stopped caring they don't have a saint when it's exactly the source of their suffering."

"We have no say on the matter. It's the church's problem, and yep, there's been no significant progress."

"It's been a month now. What were they doing?"

Rusl pointed at the newspaper tucked underneath Angelo's satchel. That's the answer.

Angelo pulled the newspaper. The headlines were about festival preparations. The government seemed to be manipulating the printing presses to placate the masses... provided the lower classes bothered reading. He held it over his open palm. Nothing happened. Rusl pulled out his lighter and offered it to Angelo, to which the man declined. They couldn't just light things up inside the carriage lest they incur a ton of pay cuts.

CLACK! Rusl hissed as his sentence was cut before he could say a word. A recent bump in the road made him bite his tongue. "Know what sucks more?"

"Biting your tongue?"

"Hardly," Still hissing at the pain, he said, "It's you. It happened during that day, right? One month in and you're still here, working without the covenant."

Angelo didn't want to have that conversation now. However, he only had himself to blame for leading it to that point.

The city's order was crumbling because the saint who was supposed to protect them suddenly died for undisclosed reasons. Many said it's a planned assassination, while others said it's the sovereign's decision. Regardless, without a higher authority to rule, Odiar City couldn't function properly.

While they, as part of the lower middle-class, were still far away from feeling the brunt of the loss, next month's wages might take a severe hit.

Angelo made a wry smile. "It's you who had a worse hand, Rusl. Getting stuck babysitting an inept Litanist."

Rusl waved a hand to dismiss the pity party. "Bah, nonsense! You always complete my share of paperwork. I'd say that's a fair trade. Besides, having a partner during field work makes the trip not as boring—YEOWCH!"

CLAK!

This time, Rusl cursed under his breath. He truly might have the worst luck between the two of them.