TravelingDreamer
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B4—Chapter 57: From Bad to Worse
🕑 Added 2024-12-05 13:29:24 +0000 UTCI spent three days on the river bank or even in the river—submerged up to my neck—trying to achieve Unity with water. A couple of times, I achieved oneness for a short time. I no longer sat there but flowed downstream with the current, passing over rocks and sand and the fish darted around inside me. That was a strange feeling. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. Every time, it slipped away, like I hit a barrier. I couldn’t figure out what was stopping me. Water was all about flow. I’d always considered myself a laid-back, go-with-the-flow kind of guy. So, what was the problem?
I sat there and stared at the water, stumped. It rippled and shimmered, utterly unbothered by my existential crisis. I looked through my Storage, pulling out one of my notebooks from Lumis. Flipping through the pages, I found the notes I’d jotted down in the valley where we spent the winter.
“Water focuses on adaptability, flexibility, persistence, and calmness.
To progress in the physical aspect:
• Swimming
• Slow and flowing martial arts
• Activities that promote fluidity and a connection with water (still need to figure out what those are).
To progress in the mental aspect:
• Meditation
• Going with the flow in daily life
• Activities that require adaptability and patience.
Exercise: Sit by a body of water, observing its movements and mimicking its flow in thought and action, cultivating a sense of inner peace and persistence.”
I laid back down, thinking about how to implement those points. The river kept flowing, unconcerned with my frustration, overthinking, or lack of progress. It just did what it always did—adapted, persisted, and kept moving. Maybe that was the whole point. Water forced nothing. It didn’t try to be something it wasn’t. It just... was.
I sighed, put the notebook away, and shifted closer to the edge. My reflection wavered on the surface, broken and scattered by the ripples. If water could laugh, it probably would’ve been laughing its ass off at me. I wasn’t going to find Unity by forcing it. I accepted that. Maybe I needed to stop trying so hard and just sit. Watch. Let go. Perhaps then I’d figure it out. Or not. But at least I’d be doing something for a change.
Two more frustrating days without progress.
In the evening of the second day, Rue splashed in the shallows, his massive paws sending water flying as he lunged after a fish with all the grace of a bulldozer. He growled in frustration, shaking his head every time a slippery fish darted out of reach. Watching him swat at the water and pounce like an overgrown bear was entertaining, even if his fishing skills left much to be desired.
Meanwhile, Mahya and Al weren’t nearly as patient. Since the morning, they have asked me at least three times how much more time do I need. Now, Mahya paced back and forth along the bank, casting occasional glances in my direction. She didn’t say anything, but the impatience radiated off her like heat waves from a pavement in the desert.
With one last grumble, I dried my feet and put my shoes back on. “Alright, Rue, let’s go back,” I said, but he was too busy barking at the water.
Despite the lack of progress, I was determined not to give up. I let the idea simmer on the back burner of my mind and turned my focus to something more practical. Dinner wouldn’t cook itself. If I couldn’t figure out Unity with water, at least I could handle a meal.
The next day, we gathered in the storage halls to sift through the clutter of treasures and oddities we’d taken from the mansions and palace in Tolarib. Mahya crouched beside a crate, pulling out a gilded mirror. She turned it this way and that, catching the sunlight. “This one’s flashy enough to grab attention but not so much that it looks like it belongs to royalty,” she said, setting it aside.
Al plucked a silver goblet from the pile, turning it over in his hands. “These items will undoubtedly be well-received, but we should prioritize pieces that appear less ostentatious.”
“Yeah, no need to drag the really gaudy stuff and end up on someone’s ‘to rob later’ list,” I said, tossing a huge, flashy brooch aside.
“Speaking of clutter—grab the pillows,” Mahya said, gesturing to a stack of them. “They’re bulky and take too much space.”
After some back-and-forth discussions regarding what constituted “not ostentatious,” we finally settled on a manageable collection. I couldn’t help but chuckle at our collective indecisiveness. The pile was a mix of decorative but functional items, just valuable enough to impress without screaming, “Look how rich I am,” along with an enormous mountain of pillows and other fabrics like curtains and carpets. Once everything was sorted, we divvied the goods among our Storage spaces, ready to head out.
I came down the stairs, prepared to go. Mahya stood by the doorframe, tying her braids back into a neat knot. She looked me up and down, and her lips curved into a half-smile. “You’re not seriously going into the city dressed like that, are you?” she asked, her tone laced with amusement.
I looked down at my jeans and T-shirt, then back up at her. “What’s wrong with this? It’s comfortable.”
“It’s too different,’” she said, shaking her head with an exaggerated sigh. “Change into something local. We don’t want extra attention.”
“Fine,” I muttered.
In my room, I changed into a loose tunic and sturdy pants. They looked plain enough to blend in but still practical enough to move in. Mahya changed into her armor, and Al did the same.
With everything sorted out and ready, I closed the house, and we walked along the river toward the city. The steady sound of rushing water followed us, mingling with the chirping of an occasional bird.
As we made our way, I swiped through my settings and switched my profile to Merchant.
I glanced at Rue, who trotted beside us with his usual cheerful bounce. “Change your glamor to the dangerous local dog,” I said, nodding toward him.
Rue wagged his tail enthusiastically, his entire body vibrating with excitement. “Rue look more dangerous now,” he declared proudly, puffing out his chest.
“Very dangerous,” I replied, chuckling.
About three kilometers from the city, the scenery changed. The reddish-brown dirt gave way to open fields, rows of crops stretching toward the horizon. People moved between the rows, tending to the plants. Here, I noticed women working among the men—a minor detail that stood out.
There were no guards on dogs with whips—none of the oppressive oversight we’d seen in Tolarib. That gave me hope. Maybe this city would be different and not so bleak.
As we passed the fields, heads lifted, one by one. The people paused their work, leaning on hoes or wiping sweat from their brows as they stared at us. Their expressions ranged from wary curiosity to outright shock. A few whispered to each other, their eyes darting between Rue and the rest of us. But no one approached, and no voices called out—not even from a distance.
I exchanged a glance with Mahya, who raised an eyebrow but kept quiet. Al, ever stoic, stayed focused on the road ahead, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. Oblivious to the tension, Rue wagged his tail again, his tongue lolling out in cheerful disregard.
The river flowed into the city, its shimmering surface reflecting the sunlight like a moving gold ribbon. A tall, thick wall rose at the city’s edge, its sandstone surface weathered by time and the elements. Above the river, the wall had an opening lined with thick metal bars that extended down into the water—probably to keep the city safe from all the nasties that might lurk below the surface—giant fish, river monsters, or whatever else they had here.
As we approached the main gate, two guards stepped forward and crossed their spears in front of us. Their yellow and brown uniforms matched the sandstone walls around them, and their expressions were suspicious.
“Halt,” one of them said, his eyes flicking over me, then to Mahya and Al. “Who are you, and why did you come here.”
I pulled on my most winning merchant smile, the kind that said I wasn’t a threat but also might have something worth their while. “Merchant,” I said, gesturing behind me. “These two are my guards.”
The guard’s gaze lingered on Rue for a moment. Then, his eyes lost focus, and he inspected each of us. After a long pause, he nodded. “Three gold coins for entry.”
I handed over the coins, and they clinked softly in the guard’s hand. He stepped aside without another word, letting us pass through the gates.
The architecture immediately captivated me. It had the same Arabic-inspired lines as Tolarib but without the grandeur. Unlike Tolarib, with its ornate white domes and fountains, the buildings here were simpler, their yellow sandstone walls plain. Yet simplicity had its charm. The buildings seemed to belong here, blending naturally with the warm, golden tones of the landscape.
The city’s defining feature, however, was the canals. A river, splitting and twisting through the city, created a network of waterways reminiscent of a fantastical blend of Venice and Arabian Nights. The canals divided the land into clusters of buildings, each section the size of a few city blocks. Narrow bridges arched over the water, connecting the sections.
I squinted at the canals, trying to figure out their origin. Had they deliberately split the river and carved channels to create this layout? Or was it the other way around, with blocks of land rising out of the water, forcing the river to adapt around them? Whatever the case, it was impressive.
The streets were alive with people, a sea of fine clothes in rich colors and flowing fabrics. Some outfits were embroidered with gold and silver, the threads catching the light like fireflies. Men wore the odd pants with the sagging sacks between their legs. I couldn’t decide if they were a practical design or a fashion statement, but they stood out.
The air was thick with smells. Roasting meat and spices mingled with the sweeter scent of baked pastries and something tangy that I couldn’t quite place. My eyes scanned the street corners for the source of the aromas, catching glimpses of vendors tending grills and clay ovens.
As we walked, the locals took notice of us. Every step seemed to draw more stares, their expressions a mix of surprise and suspicion. A few people whispered to each other, their eyes darting toward Rue, who trotted proudly beside me, his tail swishing with an air of “dangerous dog” confidence.
The people didn’t exactly jump out of our way, but a noticeable bubble of emptiness formed around us as we walked through the streets. They weren’t panicking or anything dramatic like that—no wide-eyed stares or frantic scrambling—but there was this subtle, collective shift. A sidestep here, a glance there, just enough to ensure they didn’t come too close. It wasn’t like they were afraid exactly; it was more like they were cautious.
“Friendly place,” I muttered under my breath, keeping my tone light as I leaned slightly toward Mahya. She gave a small shrug, her eyes scanning the crowd, while Al stayed close behind, his gaze fixed ahead like nothing could faze him.
Clearly, we weren’t going to blend in anytime soon, but at least we’d made it inside. Now, we had to figure out where to set up shop—and maybe grab something to eat before Rue started drooling on my boots.
A few blocks later, the delicious aroma of barbeque made my stomach growl. Following the delicious aroma, we spotted a restaurant open to the street. Inside, a massive grill dominated the space, with skewers of meat sizzling over the flames. Outside, low tables surrounded by colorful cushions invited diners to sit and relax, shaded by fabric canopies that fluttered gently in the breeze.
Men moved between the tables, serving food and refilling drinks with quiet efficiency. But something about them caught my attention. Unlike the well-dressed customers, the servers wore plain, almost ragged clothes. Their backs bent as though the world’s weight rested squarely on their shoulders. They didn’t look anyone in the eye, keeping their gazes fixed firmly on the ground.
That gave me pause. The shiny exterior of the city was starting to crack. Maybe this place wasn’t as different from Tolarib as I’d hoped.
We chose a table near the edge of the seating area, where we could watch the canal as we ate. Rue plopped down beside me, his tail wagging happily and nose working overtime as he took in the scents wafting from the grill. A server shuffled over, his gaze darting toward Rue before quickly snapping back to the floor. His hands trembled slightly, but his eyes didn’t rise an inch.
A second server approached, visibly uneasy. His eyes flitted to Rue like he might spring up and swallow him whole.
“Don’t be afraid,” I said, keeping my voice calm and reassuring. “He won’t hurt you.” Rue wagged his tail for emphasis, which didn’t help; it made them more nervous.
After consulting the servers, we placed an order for “the house recommendations.” They hurried off, leaving us to enjoy the awkward tension they’d left behind.
One server brought over a large metal plate piled high with a mountain of meat skewers. Another placed various small serving bowls filled with salads and spreads around the big plate. The food looked incredible. Steam rose from the meat, its fat dripping enticingly, while the salads and spreads were vibrant, colorful, and varied in texture. The issue, however, was that looks can be deceiving—the taste didn’t live up to the presentation.
The meat had so many spices that I couldn’t taste it, only the spices. It was also so hot that my mouth was instantly on fire, and I liked spicy food. Ironically, with so many spices, they forgot to add salt. At all.
The salads had a mix of tangy, bitter, and occasionally sweet flavors and also didn’t have a speck of salt. I took a cautious bite of something green and regretted it immediately. My eyes watered as I reached for water, coughing slightly. One red spread was so bitter it felt like my tongue wanted to peel itself off in protest, while most of the vegetables were drenched in a sweet sauce that tasted suspiciously like juice concentrate. Some yellow spread tasted like sweet wasabi, and another tasted like uncooked liver.
Mahya grimaced after her first bite, setting her skewer down with the disdain usually reserved for personal insults. She cautiously sampled a few spreads, only to shudder before pushing herself away from the table. Al took a small, deliberate bite of meat, his face twisting into a brief but unmistakable expression of disgust. He scrunched his nose, huffed derisively, and muttered something under his breath that sounded like a curse aimed at whoever cooked it.
Rue, however, was in heaven. He dug in enthusiastically, scarfing down the spiced meat with vigor. Every few bites, he’d stop, sneeze explosively from the overwhelming spices, and then dive right back in like it was the best meal he’d ever had.
“Well, at least one of us is enjoying this,” I said, earning a muffled snicker from Mahya. Rue sneezed again, wagging his tail as if to say, This is amazing, and I regret nothing.
The food might not have been what I’d call enjoyable, but at least the experience was memorable. Still, the uneasy behavior of the servers lingered in my mind like an aftertaste—bitter and hard to ignore.
After leaving the restaurant, we wandered further into the city, following the canals that sliced it into picturesque blocks. The warm afternoon sun cast a golden light, creating shimmering reflections of the domed buildings and arched bridges on the water’s surface. All the buildings were yellow, their facades adorned with latticed windows and bright pink flowers overflowing from balconies.
Mahya, walking beside me, gestured to a bridge over a canal. “Should we cross? Or stay on this side?”
I shrugged, distracted by a boat drifting past. Its driver stood at the back, using a long pole to steer through the water, his passengers lounging on cushioned seats. “Let’s cross. Might be something interesting on the other side.”
As we stepped onto the bridge, I paused to take pictures of both sides. The canals stretched like veins through the city, connecting everything and infusing it with life. On the far side, the domes of the buildings seemed to multiply, their smooth curves catching the sunlight and gleaming like polished gold. This part of the city was quieter, with fewer people around. Occasionally, a small boat floated by with a lone passenger, or someone leaned out of a window, briefly breaking the stillness. The quiet, broken only by the gentle lap of water against the stone walls, felt calm and almost serene.
We approached a square; the noise growing louder with every step. A raised wooden stage dominated the center, surrounded by a big crowd. On the platform stood three young women and two young men, completely naked. Their heads hung low, their shoulders slumped and trembling.
Next to them, a fat man with a riding crop paced back and forth like a showman at a carnival. His enormous mustache twitched as he praised his “merchandise.” He grabbed the first young man by the chin, jerking his head up to show the crowd his teeth. “Healthy and strong! Look at these teeth, not a rotten one in sight!” he bellowed. The man’s eyes darted away, his jaw clenched so tightly I could see the strain in his neck.
The auctioneer moved to the second man, slapping his shoulder with a meaty hand. “Look at the muscles on this one! A perfect laborer. He’ll haul twice than anybody else, I can guarantee it!” He flexed the man’s arm for the audience as though the poor guy were nothing but a doll.
Then he turned to one woman. She visibly flinched as he got close. Grinning, he pinched her nipple between two thick fingers and twisted. She let out a cry, her entire body recoiling in pain. “And this one,” he drawled, dragging his voice for effect, “is soft in all the right places.” His hand trailed lower, grabbing between her legs, and I saw her shudder, her lips trembling in silent horror. “See? Nice and wet, ready for work or pleasure!” His laugh was a booming roar, echoed by the cheers from the crowd.
My fists clenched before I realized it. The bile in my stomach rose, and my vision tunneled on the smug auctioneer. I stepped forward, ready to end this nightmare.
But Mahya’s hand landed firmly on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. Her grip wasn’t tight, but it was resolute. “Don’t,” she said quietly.
I turned to her, my anger boiling over. “What do you mean, don’t? Do you see what’s happening up there?” My voice cracked, louder than I’d intended, but she didn’t flinch.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, her tone calm but firm.
“Help them!” I hissed, jerking my head toward the stage. “Release them from this—this sale!”
Her gaze didn’t waver. “And then what? What are you going to do with them after? Feed them? Shelter them? Protect them from being sold again tomorrow? How are you going to fix this?”
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I didn’t have an answer. I looked back at the stage. The woman whose body had just been violated was now trembling as bidders began to shout numbers. I wanted to scream, to do something—anything—but Mahya’s question hung in the air like a weight I couldn’t shake.
“I suggest we leave,” Al said, his voice low but insistent. His expression was unreadable, but I could see the tension in his jaw. He wasn’t unaffected—none of us were—but he knew this was a situation we had no solution to.
I looked at Mahya again, her hand still on my shoulder, steady as a rock. Slowly, I hung my head. My breath came out in a long, shaky sigh that felt like it drained all the fight out of me. “Fine,” I muttered, the word heavy in my mouth.
With one last glance at the stage, I turned away, every step feeling heavier than the last. The crowd’s cheers faded into the background, but the sound of the auctioneer’s booming voice lingered, echoing in my mind.
We left the city through the same gate we had entered. Outside, I glanced back one last time, sighing as my shoulders sagged. It wasn't my fight, yet leaving made me feel like a coward.
Comments
TravelingDreamer
Following the events in Tolarib, he resolved not to get involved in the local situation again. Based on his latest experience, his small help now could have led to a worse outcome, so he left it at that.
ReadingObsessed
I don't understand. If they were bleeding out he would have helped. Sure, they'd only be free tonight or maybe a little longer if they run but they'd still be free. He became a healer to help people. I just don't get the dichotomy. He can't be bothered to help today? A small (and seemly fruitless) effort would mean the world to those slaves. When all hope was lost they were shown that there are good people, willing to stand up to evil. 'I won't be able to do any meaningful change' is a cold comfort to the people who just became property.
Patrick S.
This world is fucked
