The Old City

0.1: Visitor

The sweaty air caught in Seneca's throat as he tethered another ship into Soran's port. The docks were a tough job, but it was the best work that fit his reclusion. Better work would have required something he could not give. No...the docks were best. Labor kept his mind from wandering onto things he dared not wonder. If he gave himself too much time, he would have nightmares of blood and war.

His life had been, in a word, unkind. Seneca had grown up in one of the city's festering orphanages. The caretakers were cruel, the food was tasteless, and the children were always crying. When he was four, the best and worst thing could have happened: he tested for magic.

They sent him to Soran's Fourth Academy for Magic, where he failed every class, every year, until he was sixteen. He was so rotten that even the army nearly rejected him when the war came on. All he had wanted was to get out of Soran, maybe start a life somewhere new. He would have deserted as soon as his platoon came across a decent town, but battle met them first.

No, don't think about it.

"You, there!" yelled his foreman. "Get back to work. I'm not payin' you to daydream all day!"

Seneca pulled himself out of his memories and finished unloading the ship's cargo, being careful to think only about how heavy each box was and how many steps he needed to get from pick up to drop off.

"Here, let me help you with that."

His last crate grew lighter as a man lifted from the other side as well.

Once it was in the storehouse, he wiped the sweat off his brow and said, "Thanks. That last one was pretty heavy."

"Oh, it wasn't that heavy. You just weren't giving it your all."

The young man extended his hand to shake Seneca's. He wore an asaat, a traditional Juralian mask that covered his face beneath his eyes and filtered out bad air. It was patterned with red and blue swirls, accentuated with a spiral on each cheek. His dirty blonde hair was a mess and he certainly smelled like he had just gotten off a weekslong voyage at sea.

Seneca turned to go home but the man grabbed his shoulder.

"Ho, friend. I'm here for trade and relaxation. I haven't been home in years and imagine my old place won't let me back. Where's the best inn in the First Ring?"

"Sailors stay at The Mermaid's Wing. Granny Anya usually cooks up something good when a big crew comes to town."

"Granny Anya is still alive? I guess I'll stay there then. I've traveled the world but nothing beats that woman's cookin'."

Seneca glanced toward his route home. It was just twenty minutes back to his flat and his shift was over. He fidgeted, hoping this strange man would leave him alone.

"Can you show me the way? I'm ashamed to say I don't recall exactly where The Mermaid's Wing is."

He looked around for anyone else he might pass the task to but everyone from his shift was already back at the Harbormaster's or gone home.

"Fine."

"Don't sound so gloomy, Seneca. It's a beautiful day! We should enjoy the weather and city."

"There's not that much to enjoy. The First Ring is a shithole." Did I tell him my name? 

They walked to the inn without another word, but when they arrived, Marcus demanded he treat Seneca to an ale.

"Fine."

They walked in and Anya pointed them to the last table in her dining room. Seneca eyed the guests and wondered what secrets they kept, but nobody seemed hostile. They sat and she brought some ale.

"I didn't think I'd see you here again, love."

"It was time to leave my house I guess," Seneca said.

"I just got back today!" the man said, taking off his asaat to reveal a handsome face, young, and enthusiastic, but wiser than the last time Seneca had seen him. He was like a dream poorly remembered. The details and edges not quite in the same place, but together forming the same picture of a man with hope and vision and life.

"MARCUS!?" Seneca shouted.

Marcus...the only reason he wasn't expelled from Soran's Fourth.

Marcus...the one who suggested he carve a life for himself outside of Soran.

Marcus...who had certainly died in the war.

Marcus, Seneca's best friend, was back.