Mundane Reverie Of The Nameless Town

"THIS TOWN IS done for, we can't save it, Professor!" Sidharth tried to reason with Arya Rathore, who was donning her golden armour, emblazoned with Jodhpur's royal insignia and the rising-sun engraving. They were currently inside the Christ Church as officials outside called for an early evacuation. Meanwhile, Captain Daniel rounded up his men, barking orders for a final incursion against the inevitable.

"We won't know until we try," Arya shrugged as she unsheathed the ceremonial double-edged sword—Khanda—which was slightly curved over the edge, giving it a regal, feminine look befitting its wielder.

"This is suicidal," Sidharth passed her the gold cast earrings, resembling the sun. "I can't allow this."

"With all due respect," Arya had a grin as she clipped the earrings and used her sword as a mirror to see their placement. She bobbed her head once, watching her bangs flutter with it. "I don't follow you, Sidharth. It is the other way around. Thus, if I say I am fighting, then I am."

"Then take me along! The least I can do is provide support," Sidharth tried to reason, but Arya waved him off.

Sidharth knew that in a confrontation with the Mlecchas, he couldn't hold his ground, but when it came to supporting Arya, he was confident enough to follow her even into hellish battlefields.

"You know very well I can't allow that, Sidharth," Arya tightened her armlet—Keyūra—and traced her fingers over the Sanskrit runes engraved upon it. It was a defensive enchantment, one of the very first, dating back to the Age of Gods. "But there is still a lot you could do in my absence."

"Like?" Sidharth threw his arms in frustration. It wasn't directed at Arya but at his own incapabilities for not being competent enough to join her at that stage. The lazy afternoons when he skipped the optional combat classes gnawed at him, and even his older sister's remarks about his inherent laziness when it came to physical training felt like a thorn today.

"Just to be on the same page, your exclusion today has nothing to do with your competence, Sidharth," Arya smiled at him, surprising him. "It has everything to do with me and my selfishness. As for you, I have a crucial assignment." She stood up, dusting her armour, and then pointing her sheathed sword towards the direction of the town below. "Spend the conclusive days of this dying town with its inhabitants, record their lives, take oral accounts, and inscribe the story of how they lived."

"But that is futile!" Sidharth argued back, stomping his feet. If Arya failed, then no matter how many notebooks he filled or videos he captured, heck, even the pictures, they would all disappear as if they were never there to begin with.

"Time spent with people rebelling against the inevitable is as meaningful as it gets, Sidharth," Arya stepped towards the vaulted door as her boots scraped over the marble floor. "If you can't understand that, then there is much left for you to learn. For now, do as I have said, and if you can't understand, then know it would help you with your thesis." She paused and gave him a side glance. "Am I understood?"

"…Yes, ma'am."

"Good." Pushing the door open, she bid him a brief farewell. "Then I will see you for dinner tonight."

And with that, Arya Rathore, along with the forces rounded up by Captain Daniel Singh and a few other Arcanists from the Himachal Arcane Association, crossed the barrier a few metres away from the Christ Church and began the Mleccha hunt.

IT HAD BEEN over an hour since Arya, along with Captain Daniel Singh, had led the group of soldiers against the Miasmic tide and their personification—Mlecchas. According to the Numerologists who had scurried to the Mall Road after the surprise incursion, these Mlecchas currently clinging to the barrier were the first wave and belonged to the middle-lesser class. On paper, they weren't as robust as those of the upper-major class; thus, they would be easy to fend off, but what tugged at Sidharth's heart was the painful reality: these Mlecchas constituted the wave of conclusivity, meaning they were sent to mark the end of this mountain town, and they won't stop until the job is done.

Stepping out of their makeshift camp at the Christ Church, Sidharth stepped into the darkness that had embraced the cobbled street. The Mlecchas above had covered most of the skies, leaving only minor gaps, through which only a dull scatter of light porpoised.

Heaving a sigh, Sidharth halted by the amber lamplight. Its light shimmered over his silhouette, casting a long shadow over the yellow-stone walls, as if it were night. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. Arya's directives were thorough, but to him they still felt abstract.

"Excuse me," A middle-aged man clad in the olive uniform of the pseudo-military organisation—Mleccha Hunter Association—tapped at Sidharth's shoulders. "If you are not going to join the Arcanists in the front lines, then can you please help us distribute food to the residents?"

Sidharth held back a snicker. He knew it wasn't a request but an order; the Mleccha Hunter Association (MHA) loved to work in rhetoric, just as his master did. It was aggravating, but at least this way, he would have something to do while his master completed her expedition.

"Sure," Sidharth nodded, before taking a peek at his name tag hanging over his chest pocket. "I am glad to be of help, Nitin."

FOLLOWING THE CURVED trail, Sidharth steadily walked downwards towards the lower half of the road. The streets were dazzling beneath the faint shimmer of the amber lamps, and even though the Mlecchas had deprived the town of light, the inhabitants had their own way of defying the ordeal. From a distance, he heard shutters open, as echoes of boots scraping over the cobblestone reverberated. Sidharth shifted his gaze and wondered who would open up shop in such dire times.

Nitin, who was holding a sack of freshly cooked, warm meals, shot him a knowing smile. It seemed he had anticipated this reaction. Pursing his lips, Sidharth opened his mouth to query, but the soldier shook his head. He wasn't getting answers from Nitin just yet.

Taking a flight of stairs, Sidharth, with Nitin in tow, descended to the lower street adjacent to the ridge. The cobbled paths there had all but eroded; the vermillion gridmarks shone with a warning gleam as the Miasma, minuscule, cackled over the surface in spite. Over it was a lattice of gold, superimposed with runic Sanskrit scriptures. Sidharth assumed it was the work of local Jadugars. Unlike Arcanists, they didn't delve into the theory of the Arcane but the application. It was a rudimentary style, one that leaned towards action over thought, with an over-reliance on ancient scripts.

Crossing the corroded region, he was finally at the shopping complex, which, to his dismay, was bustling. Men and women of varied ages had kiosks and shops built within the ruins, and even some sat on the floor, calling to buyers in a poetic, sing-song tone. There were kids as well who ran with baskets of fruit, hopping about back and forth and offering it to the MHA soldiers and the newly arrived Arcanist.

From the corner of his eye, Sidharth noticed a young girl, no more than ten, frolicking around the periphery, with her red locks neatly tied in a bun. She wore an indigo scarf around her neck, with embroidery that was getting erased in quiet succession. In her right arm was a basket of apples, and in her left were strawberries. She porpoised around every onlooker, flaunting the fruits before offering them. She turned over yet again, her amber sweater sparkling under the amber of lamplight as their gaze met.

Her eyes were a deep shade of indigo. It reminded Sidharth of a person he would rather not reminisce about. Then, with a beaming smile, the girl ran towards him.

"Bhaiya!" She paused a few paces from him and waved the strawberries and then the apple over his face. "These are freshly grown fruits from the Nameless Theatre's garden! Why not try a few? I, Lillia, can guarantee you would love them."

Sidharth glanced at Nitin, and who smiled back, gesturing to him to take up on that offer. Crouching, Sidharth gave the redhead a grin.

"With a smile as charming as yours, how can I say no?"

"Lilia's smiles are brighter than the stars!" She jumped, swinging in joy. "Thus, for acknowledging that fact, I will give Bhaiya two apples and six strawberries, double of what Lilia gave to others."

"Wow," Sidharth applauded. "That makes me feel so special, Lilia. I will cherish them."

Lilia's lips curled up into an impish grin as she placed the apple and strawberries into his palms and then jumped, pulling him in an embrace. "This is Lilia's special hug," She announced, burying herself in his chest. "According to the town legend, those bestowed by it will never be forgotten."

Sidharth, slightly surprised, held back, but soon returned the embrace. Gently giving her back a pat, he felt warmth radiate over his chest. It softened his gaze and made him wonder—how could some people, despite facing the conclusive moment of their existence, burn so bright?

Nitin tapped Lilia's shoulder, making her jump back in embarrassment. Her cheeks were flushed as she frantically glanced back at the MHA soldier.

"Uncle Nitin!" She blurted out in excitement. Sidharth couldn't fathom just how much energy this petite girl held. "When did you get here?"

"I was always around, Lilia, but you were so into our prince charming here that you failed to notice," Nitin said, pulling her leg with a teasing smile. It made the young girl pout and cross her arms in mock anger. "Also, not to mention, if Captain were here, he would have been so jealous."

"Papa can go ahead and feel that way! Lilia doesn't care!" She swerved her head to the side, huffing a hmph before scattering away. But she gave Sidharth a final glance and waved, bidding him farewell.

"She didn't ask for money," Sidharth muttered, glancing at the fruits. They looked delicious, and he wanted to take a bite already, but it didn't feel right.

"No one ever does," Nitin squeezed his shoulder and pointed at the exchange over the shops.

"But that's bad business," Sidharth pointed out.

"Maybe so." Nitin's gaze lingered on the crowd for a moment longer before he prepared to use the megaphone to announce the arrival of the meals. "But even if they did ask for a price, I don't think the currency required to return their kindness exists."