The Stormcrow Cycle [Slow-burn Slice-of-Life Tragic Fantasy Romance]

Interlude: A Very Lukios Story, Part VIII

Author's Note

I changed the timeline a bit from the pre-hiatus chapter with Niki's bit. 11th hour is actually a bit too late for him to get the news, even if we assume a few messengers played telephone tag with each other before getting to Togus. Even if we assume Togus made a mad dash from his office to Niki's, I don't think it'd take him that long since Kyros isn't exactly a massive city. People from Heliopolis or Astropolis pretty much see it as a podunk little town, and most of them don't even know tiny places like Lofo-Alfos exist, so the timing seemed off. (But just you wait, I'll probably change my mind again eventually, ha.)

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Day, Quarter Past the 9th Hour

Eirian Quarter, Streets

The sight that greeted Nikias when he entered the Eirian quarter was not one he had expected.

The smell of smoke and ashes had yet to dissipate. Togus hadn't lied; there clearly had been a fire.

But it was out now, and it hadn't been the entire district; it had been more like three or four buildings.

Well. It was true Togus was high-strung. And it was also true that he had likely heard it from a runner, who had heard from some other runner, who had heard it from someone else, until eventually...

It was just as well. Nikias could hardly be annoyed by this outcome; a few ruined buildings was preferable to an entire block of them, and if Togus had not come pounding on his door, Nikias would not have dispatched the fifth and third district fire brigades.

The ending to that story could have been very, very different.

No, this was the best possible outcome. Nikias rather thought Togus deserved a raise.

"Oh." Iokras looked confused. "Looks like it's been put out."

Indeed, and if Nikias had his guess, that was the fifth district fire brigade, drinking and carousing with the locals.

They were having a party. In the streets.

A party.

Nikias rubbed his eyes.

No, they were still there, having a party in the streets with the fire brigades—all three of them.

The day was getting too strange for words.

The stone apartments looked terrible. Aside from the lingering stench, there were streaks of black here and there, marking the path of the flames. It had started in the Faravahar compound, and then spread outwards to the other apartments toward the west. Well that made sense; it was autumn now, and a stiff breeze often blew in from the east. Soon there would be chilly rain nearly every day, and then winter would come with even more freezing torrents so a cloak and hat became mandatory.

"So...should I...?" Iokras was a handsome man with not much happening behind the eyes. It was convenient, but sometimes Nikias actually missed Crasilo; for all his flaws, being stupid hadn't been one of them.

Of course, that was exactly why he had had to go, but as far as conversation went?

Crasilo could have talked circles around Iokras all day without really trying.

"No. Stay. You have to make your way around and shake hands with the locals. Ask them what happened and if they need anything from the Archon's office."

That was the key to popularity: being available and being just like them. The plethos always ate it up and asked for more.

"Oh. If you say so, sir Nikias."