Cut From A Tattered Cloth

Chapter 8

"Ne, Oyaji," Melia pointed. "Are dayo?" Is that it?

"Aa," Eijiro nodded. "That's the place. Stay close, kid. Let's get this over with."

The two of them were standing in front of The Beatrice. A place which Eijiro, grudgingly, had to admit was impressive. Especially by Zaramian standards.

The only non-governmental building that stretched to the third traffic tier, The Beatrice was a commercial phenomenon. In a city plagued by strict zoning laws and ridiculous property taxes, most buildings were divided amongst three businesses at least—one for each traffic tier. This also meant that each building needed three areas designated for parking groundcars, hoverports, and airships respectively. And, depending on the popularity of any given place, public transportation stops would need to be designated, as well.

The effect of this system made it so that going from one traffic tier to another was similar to walking up or down the stairs in a three-story house. The people of Capitol City were so accustomed to this that they expected buildings to be divided up into sections, and were caught off guard when they weren't.

This was what made The Beatrice such a marvel. It stood at five hundred feet tall and hosted a single business entity. The top forty-two floors were hotel rooms of varying sizes. The bottom eight floors were where employees ran The Beatrice's famous dining halls, dance floors, and jazz concerts. Space was rented in a neighboring building to provide parking for any vehicle of choice.

It was a classy place, Eijiro couldn't deny—every bit as dazzling on the outside as it was on the inside. A stark white pillar with arched windows and elaborate carvings of wildlife etched into the stone walls. Surrounded by an overpopulated city plagued by smog and street litter, The Beatrice always seemed to be shining, even in the daytime.

It was one of the many reasons why he hated the place.

He motioned for Melia to follow him up the marble steps. Two security guards stood at the entrance. As Eijiro pulled up his ID, he noticed the way their noses wrinkled and they rolled their shoulders back, as though trying to make themselves look bigger.

"Is there a problem?" he asked.

The guard on the right pushed up his sunglasses. "You got a reservation?"

Eijiro rolled his eyes. "I'm just here to ask a few questions."

The one on the left snorted. "How convenient, seeing as we've got questions, too. Now where's your reservation?"

Eijiro sighed. Through his Cloth Sense he knew that both men were carrying. Each had a handgun inside their coat pocket and a second one strapped to the small of their back. There was also a switchblade hidden in their sleeves. But, if he could help it, Eijiro would rather they keep all those weapons where they were.

"Boys, let's not do this today," he said. "The kid and I just need to ask a few questions, and then we'll be out of your hair. I promise."

Now both guards looked confused.

"What kid?" the left guard asked.

His heart skipping a beat, Eijiro whipped around. Melia wasn't there.

"Ano kusoga—!" he started. Then he heard her.

"Mite, Oyaji!" Oyaji, look!

She was standing behind the guards and off to the side, her hands pressed against the walls of The Beatrice.

"Melia!" Eijiro shouted, both relieved and annoyed at her for making him worry.

Melia didn't seem to hear him. He called her again. When she didn't react he rushed over to her, using his Cloth Sense to make sure the guards didn't try anything behind him.