There was an awful lot that could be said for the march of progress. It was something that many of the esoteric researchers were only too quick to point out when people began to get sentimental.

Since the reign of the empress had begun, the blanket of fear and superstition that had once covered Valon had been gradually lifted away, into a new and enlightened age of understanding.

They could understand how magic worked. They could enhance and control it, focus it and use it as power. The force that had once seen the species of Valon cowed and terrified had become a means for them to better their lives.

Through one of the high, vaulted glass windows it was possible to see out into the blue pre-dawn, where the eerie glimmer of the magelights that lined the streets of the capital swayed in the wind. Winter was beginning to draw in, though to the inhabitants of the city, such a thing held little fear. The enchanted gardens allowed food to be grown all year round.

A few inhabitants already awake and heading to their places of work trod along the cobbles, attempting to keep out of the path of the golems. The hulking, metallic figures in question plodded through the streets with brooms and cleaning cloths, the magelights glinting off their bronze shells and immobile masks. Children often shied away from the constructs, though few of the adult inhabitants of Valon batted an eyelid any longer to their presence. They had become a fixture, yet another great gift provided by the new governance.

It couldn't be blamed on them, it was natural enough to wish for comfort over hardship, and under the influence of those who dwelled up in the palace, the people never seemed to face any sort of difficulty..to the point that they neglected to ask very important questions.

The insides of the palace were probably not what most would imagine...well..below the ground floor at any rate. A great deal of effort had been taken into preserving the old features above, though the installation of esoteric power had proved a challenge, and meant that the old dungeons and storage rooms had had to be drastically remodelled.

The chamber could not have been more than one floor below the ground, if the small windows were anything to go by. It had been built to minimize sound, though it appeared they did not feel that they had much to hide regarding the power even if it were somewhat...distasteful to individuals.

A few magelights burned overhead in the large domed room, the copper-plated door left somewhat ajar.

At the front, a haphazardly dressed figure paced back and forth, wringing their hands.

The individual appeared to be a woman in her late twenties, rather unimpressive in stature, bearing the look of someone who had far too much on their mind. Her dark blonde hair was tied back rather messily, and seemed somewhere in need of a wash, reflecting the lights in a rather unappealing manner. She looked a little on the pale side, eyes deep-set and cheek bones rather high. It was possible there was some elf in the family, but it was clearly quite a way back.

She was dressed in a collection of ill-matching, and admittedly rather cheap
clothes, her outfit seeming to have been assembled by committee, and more than enough to demonstrate that she couldn't have been there as a guest of the empress or any of the council members that dwelt within the building.

No, Maeve was there as a matter of...what was it...obligation? Guilt? Some manner of foolish optimism that her presence might be of help? No...it wasn't exactly any of them.. it was more that it was the only thing she could do. The Order was gone. The schools of magic were scattered, and the mythical creatures were and hidden in fear of falling prey to the Esoterics. She was pretty certain there was not likely to be some great uprising. So this was, in some way, Maeve's only way of showing the people what she was, or what she had once been at any rate...regardless of how painful it was.

The sharp-featured woman turned and walked toward the centre, feeling her stomach twisting into knots at the sight of the shape, forlornly suspended from the centre of the dome by a considerable number of cables and ropes. It was an enormous shape, four legs and a pair of once imposing wings that lay in tatters, suspended out unfolded nearly to their full extent by hooks set into the ceiling. Numerous pipes, cables, and lengths of semi-transparent tubing rose in a complex web from its back and neck, set into fissures cut in between the creature's scales.


Set around the creature's ribs a metallic claw issued upwards, sinking into the scaleless tissue on its chest, emitting a low hum associated with large machinery as it ran, the central column seeming to glow a yellow-green shade.

The beast's head rested on the tiled floor, its eyes shut and jaw forced open, beset by more tubing and apparatus, sounds of rasping and gurgling issuing from there as the beast breathed deeply and erratically, as if subject to great exertion, though it was clearly not moving.

This, this...travesty was the fate of the dragon Rah'von. His life force had powered the lights of the palace for approaching five years, and Maeve of the Mists, once a rider of considerable renown, found herself nothing but an inconsequential figure in it all.

Where were the others? Other dragon riders? She didn't know. Maybe they'd suffered the same fate. The bond had weakened over the years, but it still didn't allow her much further than the city gates. They could all be gone for what she knew, or the news of the terrible fate that might await those of great magical power might have scared them away.

The woman dropped to her knees beside the head of the once great creature and ran a hand over the dull scales. There was no reverence for them anymore.

Hesitantly, the woman made her way over to the large, arching doors that marked the entrance to the chamber, opening them somewhat and looking out into the corridor. She was loathe to walk too far away from the chamber, even though her bond no longer held her there, but she resented that she was trapped out of sight, and for the most part out of mind. While the Esos liked to state that they had nothing to hide, they had far from left them in pride of place. It was on one of the lower floors. The presence of others was by no means forbidden, but the majority of visitors and staff simply saw little reason to pay it a visit.

What she wanted to do was tell people about this, about what had happened, assuming people wished to listen. She had always been very good a getting people to listen but that...that had been before...something that felt almost like a previous life.

----

A little way up the stairs, there was discussion regarding the events of the day...and certain concerns which accompanied them. It had been a decision that that day would be an event of some note, a day that permitted visiting of the imperial palace by the lower orders. Much of the lower floors, unoccupied by the Empress for the majority of the time, were effectively a public building, and the intent was to display how open and magnanimous the new order was. Events and stalls, performers and talks were being held there, partially to give the residents of the capital a good impression of the experience... and partly for a slightly less admirable reason.

Locking doors without good reasoning was a sure way to encourage unfavourable speculation, as was why there were no plans to obstruct access to the palace's power core, though golems would have to be placed to intervene at any attempt at tampering. The trouble was, that while, among the esoteric academic circles the usage of a dragon power core was considered a spectacular breakthrough and created such an elegant solution to the problem of powering the grid, and while lawfully they could not conceal nor deny that the work exists, it was feared that less educated individuals may see the sight as being somewhat...unappealing... and people were wont to let sentimentality ruin progress.

As such, with preparations beginning they had done their best to direct all points of interest away from the great chamber. They suspected that few would venture so far, and those that did would not linger long in the atmosphere there. Hopefully the irritating presence of the former rider would not work to spoil what could otherwise be a very pleasant day.

Adion sat in the trees with his spear on his back. The day was calm and the sky a good blue, but that was not what concerned the raptorus. A shipment of recently confiscated magefire testing equipment, which was heading for Witchfell and coming from the capital, where Adion was paid to return it to.

The carriage flew by with the horses at full speed, the valuable cargo they carried was wanted by many, seeing as it was even more advanced than the best stuff that VEGA had. Little did they know that they had a raptorus following them in the trees. On the ground Adion would have never been able to keep up, but in the trees, Adion found his true speed. This carriage was no challenge for the lizard flying silently through the trees.

The 2 guards that sat upon the driving seat of the carriage didn't notice that Adion teleported onto the carriage, until the device they were using to store magefire exploded. This killed the passenger, alerting the driver to the fact that an oversized lizard was stabbing a spear through his chest.

After a moment, the horses stopped and began to graze. Adion threw both of the bodies off of the carriage, and headed straight for the capital, reaching it in around 20 minutes. He pulled up to the gate to the poor district where his client was waiting. Hopping down from the carriage, Adion said, "1 pound." With that the client handed over a pound and a half of gold saying, "Your pay, and a little time bonus."

The fishmonger didn't look too impressed with the new employee. To be truthful, Joth was hardly impressed with the job. Chucking fish around all day, especially now that it was summer, was hardly his idea of an appealing job. Yet, money had to be made, and the pay was slightly better than the last job. If he had any hope of moving out of the stable to an actual human living space, he'd have to deal with it.

Then again, the stable was free.

With just the hint of a sigh, he tried to be cordial and did his best to listen to the older man's instructions. But the day was hot, the sky clear and beautiful, and he realized with sinking dread that the last thing he wanted was to be here.

This realization was made worse when he overheard a customer mentioning excitement over the opening of the palace to, well, people like him. Hearing the guy go on and on about the occasion (apparently there were free food samples and jugglers and fire-eaters and dancers and all sorts of performances) just made Joth even more resentful of his new job, and he handed over the man's cod less than graciously in response, resulting in a harsh scolding from his boss.

He had been to the palace....maybe once? When he was still with the orphanage. He was fortunate enough to at least have been dumped in the center of the city, meaning he could at least see the palace walls and breathe in the urban life, rather than be stuck on some farm on the outskirts. And of course, the flight ships, and the harbor. Without that, he'd be absolutely miserable.

With that thought to cheer him on, he tried to smile a bit more and look less tortured as they day went on and the stink of the fish grew with the heat. Perhaps if he did well, the boss would let him off early, as it was his first day and all.

The screwdriver turned, locking the tiny, off gold screw into the device and tightening the final seal. Upon giving it the once over, the Librarian stood up and moved into a clear area of his office. Upon placing it on an ornate stand more suited to a place of religion, he gave the device a final check over, then stood back. Raising his left arm, he clicked his fingers first causing a spark, then a flame no bigger than that of a candle to rest on his brass index finger. Carefully, he move towards the device again and twisted one of many almost identical tiny cranks on the side. Almost instantly, the flame flickered, regularly almost going out, despite the lack of any wind. He unwound the crank again and the flame returned to its natural state, regularly flickering.

Moving around the device, he turned another, larger crank, before pulling a lever. Instantly, the Librarian was blown back as if a fully laden cart had smashed into his left arm, the flame whipping out. Arresting his stumble, he tried to near the machine, but his artificial arm wouldn't move with him, as if blocked by a sponge wall. He quickly noted something in a nearby book before pulling a lever on the wall, dropping a metal cage around the device. Reaching through a hold in the cage, he deactivate the device and returned it to his tool table.

----

Knocking at his heavy oaken wooden door brought him back from his meditative state.

"Come in" he announced with practised ease. A boy, little older than 20, came in and stood to mock attention. His clothing clearly showed that he was a member of VEGA.
"Master Researcher, the Palace wishes for a report on the..."
"Magic Dampener, yes, I know" he interrupted while searching for a brown envelope. "Here," he offered to the messenger. As the messenger turned to leave, though, the Librarian spoke up again. "When is the... what is it called...the Palace open day again?"
"It..uh...it begins later today Master Researcher" announced the messenger.
"Later today? Well, I best go with you then. I can show off the dampener in person"
"But Mast...."
"No need to protest, my good man, but I do have other business to attend to at the Palace." He gave a slight smirk towards the boy. "Well, lets not hesitate!" he chimed as he grabbed the satchel containing the device.

Today was going to be horrible. Most days, the Guard Captain awoke much closer to noon than to dawn, relishing in the slight abuse of power magic and status had given her, but today... today was special, and required her to arise before even the sun. It was all due to this ridiculous event the Empress had planned, giving the rabble a sight of the inside of their betters' venerate home and forcing a major security and logistical nightmare upon those who would have to keep this rabble in line. The day before had seen most of the actual planning for where each guard would be stationed, what their patrols would be, when they were to be relieved, and what would happen to them if they deviated from this plan and something happened in their absence.

And so, there, in the main hall, where thousands would soon be gathering in dangerous proximity to the Empress, she stood, wearing the outdated armor she had worn for decades, with all its dents, scratches, weight, and faded colors, watching her subordinates get into their position and evaluating how effective it all seemed. When each of the guards who would be tasked with overseeing this floor were in their positions, their captain dismissed them so they could be attentive for the event. With the main floor secured, and other officers tending to most of the other major areas that were collectively being known as the greatest security risk the Empire has ever known, Meryl set to making sure that the less obvious areas were properly tended to.

There was checking each of the hallways that were to be used by the servants, each of which had a golem or a guard to ensure any harassment ended either peacefully or with a dead commoner, and the paths to the palace's depths. This is where the most annoying of orders were to be found, as the unsightly source of all this technological greatness that Meryl could outmatch over a century ago was being left open to the public. Now, she understood the concept behind today's events; the Empress wanted the people to see her as magnanimous and her governance transparent, but there were precautions that could easily be taken that no one would be bothered by. The most important of which was access to that disheveled dragon girl and her indisposed pet, something no one needs to see and something that could easily be kept out of the public mind with nothing but a locked door and any number of excuses as to why it was so. As she walked down the corridor to the place she rarely visited–for why would anyone who wasn't one of those incredibly odd Technologists ever want to see what was down there–she passed by several golems, placed there to look intimidating and indirectly keep the people away.

When she came within sight of the chamber door, she hesitated to go further; the dragon girl would be inside and the dragon girl was never one to be quiet, agreeable, and stress free. Still it wasn't like it wasn't easily understandable why she was such, what with her great beast reduced to a battery and her revered order scattered like the fools they were. And, with a heavy sigh and her hesitation overcome, Meryl took those extra few steps necessary to notice that the dark outline of the chamber doors was slightly askew. Someone, most likely one of the Technologists with his mind too consumed by thoughts of Magefire to worry about common courtesies, seemed to have left the doors open. As she moved closer to shut them so as to not attract the curious eyes that weren't discouraged by the hallway full of staring, eyeless golems, she noticed something of a more fleshy shape and color. She stopped and squinted to see who it was peering out into the empty corridor, only to see the distinctly ragged looks of the one who spent the most time in that dreary place.

She resumed her march towards the door, but slowed the pace in an attempt to not make the girl adjust her temperament to her appearance and go rabid. "What are you doing, girl?"

Adion slowly walked across the city. A customer told him to go to the castle during a party that was happening today, then free the dragon. Adion had already found a healer, who may be bound and in a bag, to redirect his magic through as a way to turn the dragon's magic into healing. That was the beauty of the raptorus, their natural ability to control magic flows. Of course, it took quite a bit of focus.

Adion made his way to the castle. It was the nicest building he had ever been. Adion also noticed that no one had run into him, which he figured out why when he looked back down. The commoners were giving Adion a good sized birth.

Adion walked through the halls to the dragon battery. If anything got in his way he would stop it, whether it was making golems magefire cores explode or knocking out the guards. This was actually pretty light to him, seeing as he did work as an assassin. Once he reached the doors to the dragon chamber, Adion stopped to take a look at it.

Maeve Winterborn was snapped out of her reverie as she heard someone's voice addressing her. Her attention was pulled to the individual who'd approached. The clunky old armour, the strange inhuman eyes, the impression of irritation upon seeing Maeve. It was Meryl Stormsong. The woman could not say she had any love for the woman, but then that was less out of any personal vendetta and more due to the fact that in her eyes all those who served the empire in complete knowledge of what they had done to her companion was as good as showing their approval of the Empress and VEGA ruining her life, and the Winterborn heir treated them accordingly..

"I am allowed to stand here, am I not?" the woman responded icily.

"Or is that another right I am to be denied? I have already been stripped of my status, my career, my property and any say in what becomes of my dragon. Am I to perhaps be locked in here as well?

Maeve could be an imperious creature. Possibly it came down to having been raised to consider herself to be a person of status. Some attributed it to inherent elven arrogance (though such topics were rarely brought up within earshot of Meryl Stormsong, in fear of reprisal). For the most part however, Maeve was seen as being self-important due to being a member of the Order. Many had regarded them to be a somewhat self-superior folks during their period of influence, though it appeared that old habits died hard in the case of Winterborn, who while as she was she better resembled a vagrant that had wandered in from the gutter she still carried herself like a noble woman.

"No sanctions have been placed upon me that I'm aware of though people scarcely see fit to even speak to me now." the former rider added. She had little exchange with the staff of the palace. Most of those who worked there had little reason to enter the magefire chamber, and those that did were the Esoteric Technologists who ran the project. Those were people whom Maeve resented and held unmasked contempt for. They were always the same. They would stride in, push her to one side and start doing things to her Rah'von as if he were some piece of machinery. How she loathed them.

She was about to speak again when a low groaning noise caused her gaze to snap round, breaking the eye contact she'd maintained with the woman since the conversation had begun to look to the enormous form of the dragon. The drake shook and struggled to lift its head up, tail sweeping across the tiled floor.

"Rah'von!" Maeve called, rushing over to the great beast and wrapping her arms around its head, speaking to the creature in some sort of dialect long forgotten by the majority of people, and most likely dismissed as useless anyway. This seemed to have completely stolen her attention away from attempting to argue with the Guard Captain, as it was wont to do. In regards to her dragon the woman appeared to had a one track mind.

Adion stood, watching Maeve Winterborn and Meryl Stormsong talk. Adion simply stood absolutely still in a shadow, the only differences between him and the shadow was his eyes and the shininess of his scales and armor. When the dragon made the low groan, Adion had to hold back from rushing to help. If this were a mammal, Adion would not have shown so much care. That was a trait about mammals, they had a nice, cut-throat society.

Adion stood still until Meryl left, only then approaching the great beast in the chamber, rubbing his hand across the dragon's scales.

Hunger in the city was different than it was back at home. At home, hunger was winters and thin stew, huddling in fur coats around little fires. Hunger was peeing a lot because everything was diluted with water, and after meals there was only water to take the edge off the pangs in your stomach. But at home spring always came and things got better. In the city, however, hunger was dirtier, rougher, and more desperate. Hunger meant furtive glances and sneaking around and stealing hot bread and burned fingers. It meant looking over shoulders and being scared of men in uniforms. And, as Kip's situation was looking out, hunger meant a descent into law-breaking with no way of climbing back up.

Kip moved away from the bakery quickly, heading toward a more crowded area where she could blend into a crowd and no one would noticed a strange foreign girl with bread cradled in her skirt. The traffic led her down to the ocean. She had never seen the sea before coming to the city, and of yet she had not touched the sea water. Before she could truly appreciate the view, however, she was accosted by the horrible odor of the fish market. It hit her like a wall. She stopped, gagging slightly; someone bumped into her. She kept going.

Kip detested the fish market. She didn't understand why anyone would buy fish that smelled rotted and horrible. The market stunk of hot fish, rotted fish, fish blood and fish guts, and she found it a rough and noisy place. No one was happy in a fish market. However, Kip didn't want to be out in the open any longer. Gingering choosing an area she thought looked the cleanest of her options, she discreetly ducked behind a crate of fish--awful, stinking fish--and hunkered down out of sight. She did her best to keep her skirt off the ground, but she could see the vibrant red and yellow fading with each filthy moment she spent hiding from the authorities.

It was only after she had unwrapped her bread that she glanced furtively around her and noticed that there was actually someone nearby, a blond-haired young man working at the stand that was almost certainly directly next to her. She began to make yet another sneaky escape, but as she stuck her head out from her hiding place she spotted the baker's son heading in her direction. With a jolt in her heart rate, she ducked back behind the crate and held very still, hoping the fish-worker was too focused on his work to notice her.

Jothan Grey

The minutes seemed like hours, and the hours days, and Jothan hated every second of it. He was bored. And tired. And smelly. And utterly miserable. He couldn't think of a worse job than this, what with the sun and heat and smell and...ugh. Yet it paid twice as much as the last one, and if he quit now...well, that wouldn't help his reputation much, now would it?

The only thing he was really doing was making sure "fresh" fish was on display, and to replace fish that was bought. A lot of bending and picking up and dropping fish and apologizing. He was eventually handed a pair of old brown leather gloves, his own tucked away hidden under his shirt. No chance of him getting those slimy scales all over the black leather. Especially being a heirloom.

A bit before lunch the business died down. His boss started chatting up the baker across the street, leaving Jothan relatively alone by the stand. Bored, he leaned against the wall, wanting to take a break from the overwhelming stink. Arms crossed, the tattered brown gloves discarded on the table, he watched the people in front of him with a scowl and disinterested look on his face, which was only half true. He was really, well, just bored...

Until he heard a shuffling sound very close to him.

Standing up straight, he looked around in the direction he had heard it. His eyes were met with a barrel of fish, and he wondered if it was just a rat. Though, if it was a rat...supposing it got into the barrel....

Deciding not to take the risk, he went to inspect it...

...and was very surprised to see a girl hiding behind it!

"What....what are you doing here??" he exclaimed, nearly shouted. He looked up across the street, his boss looking directly at him. Immediately he went back to the wall, looking everywhere but him. After a few seconds, the boss went back to talking.

With a sigh of relief he turned back to behind the barrel at the dark-skinned girl, oddly dressed in bright colors. She had...beads in her hair? Weird. "I mean it," he repeated, softer but not necessarily gentler, "What are you doing here?" Though a second glance-over revealed the bread and his answer.


Cordelia Mastiff

It wasn't characteristic of her to whine, but whine she did. "Do I have to go to the palace? I've got more important things to do than cater to the Empress's every whim."

The other captain, someone she actually respected in this field due to his experience, age, battle scars, and mutual respect for her as well, just sighed, "You took an oath to the Empress, my sweet. Your ship is literally named Her Imperial Majesty's Ship. Besides, what other "important" things do you have?"

Cordelia opened her mouth, both to reproach him for his nickname for her (one of the few things she couldn't stand about him), and to list off her many important things, but the man just raised a hand. "Never mind, darling. Whatever it is, it will be excused for this."

Arms crossed, she huffed and puffed, but she knew he was right. There was a demonstration to be done at the opening, and the populace was very fond of flightships. For some, it would probably be their only opportunity to see one. Even though she rarely serviced the commoners, she supposed she did have some sort of duty to them.

"Besides, dearie..."

"Captain!"

"Captain Dearie."

"Captain Mastiff, Captain Shepherd!"

"Dear Captain Mastiff." Ohhhh, she could slap that smile off his face! And she would, were he not more than twice her age and a colleague to her father. It would be him to run off and tattle. Though that was something she liked about him. He wasn't afraid of being the whistle-blower when wrongs were done.

"It's not as if you have a choice in the matter," he continued, holding the door open for her as they walked out onto the street, "Now, go get the Cormorant."

"The Cormorant??" Cordelia exclaimed, "Excuse me, Shepherd, but last I remembered, we weren't trying to kill the populace with this demonstration!"

"She may be old, Cordelia, but she's sturdy. Like your father and me."

"She creaks with every step," Cordelia muttered, but there was a small smile on her face.

Shepherd just winked, "That's part of the novelty, my dear."

The city was full of strangers. They filled the shops and the houses, the streets and the skies; they were a mass of unknown entities that swarmed around her in the streets, a blur of strange shapes and smells and faces that cried and smiled and shouted. The sheer number of strangers that pressed around her each day had the enormity of the sky, vast and incomprehensible. Their nameless faces merged together, individuality replaced by the crowd.

Suddenly, Kip found that the outcome of the next few minutes of her life had become dependent on the actions of one of these strangers. When he yelled, she nearly jumped to her feet and ran away at that instant. He walked away, though, so Kip remained in her hiding spot and waited to make sure all eyes had turned away. She was already posed to leave when the fish-seller returned. She appraised him defensively, her body coiled and taught, ready to spring at the slightest provocation.

If before he hadn't understood why she was hiding, or who she was hiding from, she wasn't going to take the chance that he soon wouldn't. Gingerly, she used her skirt to protect her hands from the heat as the crust of the bread broke with a satisfying crunch and she tore the roll in half.

"Take this, please," she said, thrusting the bread at the fish-seller. Steam rose from the fluffy interior, and Kip's stomach stabbed her with a pang of hunger. "Just don't tell them I'm here." She would have to deal with worse than hunger if she was caught for her crime. Prison was a dangerous place for anyone.

There stood the palace, resplendent in its colours against the industrial backdrop of the rest of the city. High above flitted flightships like abnormally large sky whales. Mallek and the messanger made there way up the steps to the main door that arched high above them. One of the door guards stopped them.

"Halt. The palace is not yet open for the public!" said the man, with a gruff tone.
"Actually, I am here to deliver a report of my research to the palace staff." He glanced at the messenger holding the paper report, "Well, more of a demonstration actually."
The guard glanced with him with suspicion.
"Oh, sorry, my fault. VEGA Master Researcher Mallek Alderman here as requested" he bowed to the guard, disregarding the actual present social etiquette and informal rank Mallek possessed over the guard. The man stepped back a little, clearly a little embarrassed as a result.
"Deeply sorry Master Researcher. You are free to enter." Nodding at the other guards, the doors swung open and Mallek, with the messenger in tow, entered.

As soon as the doors closed, the messenger - clearly in a hurry - ran off down one of the side corridors, leaving Mallek surrounded by guards and servants preparing for the festivities. Walking over to the nearest guard, he asked where the Palace seniority were.
"Sorry sir, but they are currently arranging for today's activities. Feel free to look around, there should be a recess within the hour."
Mallek responded with thanks, before making his way down a random corridor to look around.

Jothan looked at the bread, confused. Was this supposed to be a bribe? Make sure she didn't get caught.

Uncharacteristically, at least with strangers, a small smile spread on his face, and he snorted lightly. "Keep it," he said with a wave, "And don't worry, I won't tell. But if you get caught, that's on you."

Hardly two seconds after his last words, his boss decided to return. Standing up straight and trying to look busy, he wondered if it was clear that he wasn't 100% into his job. Half his mind was a bit worried about the girl. He had been in that situation before. Not the best. If she was smart, she'd eat all of the bread now, while it was still hot and good. No sense in saving it if she got caught. Then she'd be hungry and arrested.

His boss gave him a suspicious look, but was distracted by more customers. Jothan relaxed slightly, but really hoped the girl would stay quiet. Assuming she hadn't left yet.

Kip was surprised, even startled, when the fish-seller did not accept her offer of the bread. She thought for a moment that he was going to turn her in. But then he smiled and reassured her of his intentions. I won't tell, he said. Relief rushed like water over the tension in Kip's body. She really was being too quick to make ill assumptions about the people in this city. Though, she wasn't sure what acting out of accordance with the law said about this man's character. In his situation, would Kip herself have done the same? Perhaps not, at least after this experience.

Though Kip was grateful to the young man, she needed to use the chance he had given her to escape. It was about the only thing she could do right now. Staying in this hiding spot was too risky, as evidenced by the speed at which she had been discovered. And, as his actions gave away, there was someone else approaching. Kip peered out from the opposite side of the crate, surveying her escape route. There were still plenty of people around to disappear into.

Kip ducked out from behind the crate, emerging as nonchalantly as she could into a surge of people passing by. Her mind screamed at her to run as she spotted the baker, though he wasn't looking her way, but all signs of her guilt were once more wrapped in her skirt and she forced herself to keep pace with those around her. She did dare, for a short moment, to glance back at the fish-seller. She wasn't sure that he'd seen her leave. Then she turned down an adjacent road, out of the stench, out of the sun, and out of sight.

Even this far from the center of the city, the streets were lined with stone. The buildings stood straight and tall, if a little crowded, with neat, clean corners. In fact, everything was quite clean. It was as if, with the harnessing of magic and the rise of esoteric technology, the city had been swept into order. There were few living in obvious poverty; everybody smiled and laughed as though their lives were heading in the right direction. The sun seemed to shine even when the sky was cloudy. It was all very different from the stories Kip had heard as a child.

Kip found a darker place along a quieter street to crouch down and finally eat. The flesh of the bread had cooled off and dried out a little, and the malodor of that horrible harbor still seemed to linger within her nose. It was also the best meal Kip had ever eaten in her life. She caught the crumbs on her lap, and then picked those up and ate them as well. She even licked off her fingers for good measure.

A few people passed by now and again, the foreign girl crouched just far enough out of sight to be of no concern. Kip leaned back against a building, finally free from the burn of hunger. The Capital was not always such a rough place.