The Old City

0.17: The Treehouse

The First Ring...February 22nd, 10043

"Don't come back here without food!" shouted Antonius, kicking Angelica onto the wet street. His father slammed their door on her, catching her foot with a horrible crunch.

Angelica massaged it until the pain dulled to a mere moderate agony. Then she picked herself up and pushed forward, her stomach once again grumbling with no food in sight. Indifferent onlookers passed without a thought, for they had enough problems without a starving, probably disease-ridden rat of the First Ring.

After an hour wandering, the scent of toasted spices woke her from her daze. The menagerie of herbs and peppers and roots and alliums traded in the First Ring's Grand Bazaar cast waves of aroma that intoxicated unaccustomed visitors. Into Soran's port flowed every good from every corner of the world, culminating in the greatest assortment of products the human world has known.

At the entrance to the Grand Bazaar, an Enforcer put a hand on Angelica's shoulder, stopping her from entering. Looming large overhead, the mean-looking man had deep bags under his black eyes that betrayed impatience and cruelty. Too deep to be from a lack of sleep. This man was an addict and even at nine in the morning he slurred his words.

"What're you doin' here, kid?"

"Do you have any food?"

"There ain't no food for your kind here. Move on 'fore I knock you 'cross the street."

"Please," she whimpered. "I'm so hungry. My father, he needs food too."

The Enforcer bent down so close Angelica could see the specks of dirt ingrained in his wrinkles. "Then he should get a job and buy food. Now move, rat." At this he gave her a second kick on the day and she toppled, no longer able to hold herself up. The man beckoned two layabouts to get her out of the way so they dragged her out of sight from the main entrance and into a nearby alleyway littered with trash, surely thinking to put her with her kind.

When they abandoned her, she realized the hunger wasn't so bad anymore. She dreamt of a salmon she'd once seen off the docks, the largest any of the sailors had caught. Angelica wormed her way through a crowd of onlookers, salivating at the sight, and the moment before she could sink her teeth into it, a gentle voice called out, bringing her back to reality.

"Are you alright, dear?"

Angelica tilted her head in the mud to see a hooded figure laying against the wall ahead of her. Nobody had noticed since his cloak was so dirty and tattered it blended in with the garbage. He also remained so perfectly still that Angelica sometimes lost sight of him, as though time and perception around him halted. Thick white hair fell over his shoulders and his piercing blue eyes seemed to read Angelica, turning over every stone inside her being. She thought they had a tint, a shadow of silver but was too tired to focus on him properly.

"Do you have any food?"

The hooded figure stared at this poor creature in front of her and sighed. He reached inside his cloak and pulled out a small piece of bread and a jar, whose contents he scraped thin atop it. Surprisingly light of feet, he crawled across the alley and handed it to Angelica, but made sure she ate slowly.

"I have more if you can keep this down, but if you eat too quickly you will be sick. Go slow. There is time."

Angelica swallowed the last bite she'd taken and when she nearly choked, this man handed her a cup of water, which she greedily gulped. It was fresh and rejuvenating and when she surfaced for air, she felt life returning to her limbs.

"Thank you. This is the best food I've ever had."

"You have no need to thank me. I could not very well leave a child to starve to death on my streets."