|
Post by Linyü on Jul 1, 2020 17:07:47 GMT -6
For the first time, Roku looked... if not uncertain, then a little less self-assured than usual. Roku had been a part of the unit already when San had first joined, and that had been ten years ago. Even if he hadn't been with the Watchful Ones for much longer, ten years was already a long time.
San wondered what it was like, to go back to a place and not know how much of it you still recognized. He had never had the opportunity, and he doubted that would change.
If he went back to Xinzhou now, it would be to his death. Even if the Watchful Ones didn't want to kill him for his node or the damage he had done, San knew too much, and it would be remiss of an organization like theirs to leave a loose end hanging.
He hoped Roku was right, and that an ocean would be enough.
|
|
|
Post by Linyü on Jul 1, 2020 17:13:10 GMT -6
There was nothing he could say to assuage Roku's own misgivings, if the cat had any. They would find out whether the immigration policy had changed once they disembarked, San was sure; and if it had, then there was nothing for it but to adapt and improvise. "Any Xin presence?" he said.
"Are you kidding?" The cat huffed again. "Even you only came here out of desperation. I can't guarantee there won't be any, but I've never met any myself."
That was good. "Job market," San said, not giving himself any time to dwell on more than the practical implications of Roku's answer.
"There's work if you want it, though you're probably better off picking up a trade. Your usual skills... Well." The cat gave San's body a once over. He could have saved himself the trouble. San was well aware that he wasn't in any condition to practice his former trade, and likely wouldn't be for some time.
|
|
|
Post by Linyü on Jul 1, 2020 17:22:26 GMT -6
But then the cat said something else that San hadn't been expecting. "Hired blades are less use here than they are where you come from. There's a beast for almost every purpose, and we're almost guaranteed to be better at it than you are." The cat licked his paw and swiped it over an ear. "The demand is mostly for intelligent work, or for fine craftsmanship. Though there will be, of course, the standard fare of low-skilled nonsense in the service industry."
"Beasts?" San said, a slight furrow appearing between his brows.
"I could explain, but it would be easier for you to see for yourself." With those words, Roku hopped off from his perch and began walking to the front of the ship, where the ramp had been lowered for those who wished to disembark. "Come. Rei will meet us later," said Roku, likely having guessed at San's concerns.
|
|
|
Post by Linyü on Jul 1, 2020 22:12:21 GMT -6
Wordlessly, San followed Roku off the ship. The cat guided him through the crowd, pausing sometimes to listen and watch, but never taking very long to figure out where to go. The docks gave way to the town itself, filled with short buildings with vibrantly colored roofs, an architectural style so far removed from what San was used to that he found himself curious about them despite himself. They weren't here to be tourists, but considering the fact that he was on foreign soil, maybe it wouldn't be remiss to look as though he was one.
No one tried to stop him, and though a few passers-by gave him curious glances, San never sensed enough interest to warrant alarm. But neither did San see any Xin among them, though there was otherwise a great variety to the people he passed.
When they finally stopped, it was at an inn. "You said we were headed for New Tarsia," said San.
|
|
|
Post by Linyü on Sept 18, 2020 14:31:46 GMT -6
“We are,” said Roku. But the cat gave him a pointed up and down look, and said, “In your current state, we would be better served by letting you rest for a few days.”
San repressed the feeling of mortification that threatened to wash over him. He knew it at once as a remnant of the time he had spent among the Watchful Ones, where such physical weakness would never have been tolerated, but it was also strange to find himself in a situation where he was… well, no longer capable. Not since he had been eleven, and still a raw recruit, had he been so unfit. The Watchful neglected many things, but their own condition was never one of them if they - or their handlers - could help it.
His state, he knew, hadn’t been by choice. And yet, it was hard not to feel an almost instinctive revulsion at the reality of it.
|
|
|
Post by Linyü on Sept 18, 2020 14:32:21 GMT -6
He remembered what he looked like, though it was something he didn’t like to dwell on: gaunt, pale, emaciated. Very nearly a dead man walking.
Much as it galled him to do so, he had to concede Roku’s point. He had no choice in the matter. If he took stock of his own state now… Even the walk from the ship to this inn had been enough to make him weary. A longer journey, even by cart, might have been beyond him.
The cat took his silence as acceptance, though Roku’s words suggested he had not expected any argument from San’s quarter. Then again, agents were also trusted to be practical about their abilities and those of their partners. San would have been the one betraying their contract for being a fool about his state, and Roku was only doing as he ought by pointing it out.
|
|
|
Post by Linyü on Sept 18, 2020 14:32:36 GMT -6
“I will make arrangements as I can, though I’m afraid you’ll have to do some of the legwork yourself,” Roku said.
To this, San nodded. That was unfortunate, but not unexpected. In Ningjing, Roku’s role had been limited to reconnaissance, and occasionally a timely distraction. There were many things he needed someone else to procure, though San assumed he mostly dealt with Hachi for this; San himself had seldom been asked. San could only presume that things were much the same here.
Doubts nagged at him. The sickness that had overtaken him on the ship had seemed much worse than what seasickness could explain. Everything that had transpired since he had learned of… His mind aborted the thought, leaving him disoriented for a moment. Everything that had transpired during his escape from the warrens - this he was able to acknowledge - was a blur, and then there was the matter of what Roku had told him on the ship…
|
|
|
Post by Linyü on Sept 18, 2020 14:32:47 GMT -6
He hadn’t even noticed Roku disappear, a clear sign that he was slipping. But Roku materialized out of some patch of shadow, now holding a pouch in his mouth. “For you,” said Roku, dropping it at his feet. “Three nights.”
“Three?” said San.
The cat fixed him with a look, inclining his head slightly. “Is there somewhere you need to be?” When San didn’t answer, Roku twitched his whiskers. “Then there’s no hurry, is there? Try to be awake come evening; I’ll make my report then, if there’s anything to report.” And with those words, Roku slipped away again, leaving San with the pouch of coins.
Sighing, San bent to pick it up before some enterprising pickpocket made off with it. How Roku had gotten his paws on this, San wouldn’t ask, though if he was being honest, he was fairly sure he already knew.
|
|
|
Post by Linyü on Sept 18, 2020 14:33:25 GMT -6
The Watchful were not, strictly speaking, proper citizens of the state, though they worked for and were funded by the ministers and the Dynast; and the personal expenses of the agents themselves did not so much pull from a budget as they did pull from the city itself. Which was to say that the agents made do by stealing directly from the shops and homes of the citizens, held in check only by an order not to attract attention. This kept the thieving on a small, petty scale, and never too much from the same place.
And as much as Roku couldn’t make purchases, he was just as capable of stealing coin as the rest of them.
Walking into the inn, San was greeted by the smell of food. The spices used were unfamiliar to him, but the scent of roast meat was unmistakable even in a place he had never been before.
|
|
|
Post by Linyü on Sept 19, 2020 11:35:29 GMT -6
A man at the desk greeted him, and San walked over, ignoring the way the man’s expression faltered as he got a closer look at San’s face and clothes. “Anything I can do for you, sir? A table, perhaps?” Doubt was writ all over his features, and San could hardly blame him for it. San had walked into his establishment looking like a beggar; it was likely some small mercy that the man did not have him thrown out on the spot.
The man spoke Common, and San was forced to be glad of having learned it after all, and glad again that he had so much opportunity for practice through Rei. The man’s accent had no resemblance to Robin’s, but it did sound remarkably like Rei’s… and like Roku’s.
In Ningjing, the cat’s collar operated in Xin, as that was the language spoken among the unit.
|
|
|
Post by Linyü on Sept 19, 2020 11:36:02 GMT -6
But on the ship, and possibly a little before that, Roku had made a switch. Some of it was for practicality, but San suspected the main reason was to help avoid detection. They hadn’t known - and still didn’t know - whether there would be pursuers, and if there were, then speaking the language of the state was yet another way to draw attention to themselves.
But it hadn’t quite dawned on San until just then that this place might be anything more than a foreign country, far away from anything he had known. That to Roku and Rei, it might have been a homecoming.
“Sir?” said the man, the doubt on his face growing, and San came back to himself with a blink.
“One room,” San said. “Three nights.” He placed the pouch of coins on the counter, where it came to rest with a soft clinking sound.
|
|
|
Post by Linyü on Sept 19, 2020 11:36:18 GMT -6
The man picked it up, eyeing San uncertainly for a moment before he opened it to inspect its contents.
“One room,” the man said. “For just yourself?” San nodded, and the man poured out a few coins into his hand. “And, er, would you like meals with the room?” Again, San nodded. This time the man nodded back, having apparently acclimated to the strangeness of the situation, and poured a few more coins into his hand. He counted them out on the counter, then returned a couple of them to the pouch and slid it back over to San, along with a key.
“Third floor, should be the door to your left at the end of the hall,” the man said. “Lunch is in about an hour, if you wanted to come down for it.”
San gave a last nod to the man, collected the pouch and the keys, and walked up the stairs to his room.
|
|
|
Post by Linyü on Sept 19, 2020 11:36:29 GMT -6
The stairs cost him more than he liked to admit, and after the first flight, he had to stop, bracing one hand against a wall, to catch his breath. Shame and self-loathing threatened for a moment to suffocate him, and San thought fixedly of nothing as he waited for his vision to clear.
As soon as he felt that loss of consciousness was no longer imminent, he forced himself to begin climbing again.
Objectively, there was likely no real need for him to push himself. If there were pursuers meant to off him, then they could have done so at any time; and indeed, their job would be made easier by him being inside his room than otherwise. But he disliked being in this in-between place, disliked the idea of going back down to the scrutiny of strangers even more. He felt like a wounded animal, crawling back to its den to nurse its wounds in peace.
|
|
|
Post by Linyü on Sept 19, 2020 11:38:13 GMT -6
Only habit made him keep his breathing quiet, even as his lungs burned by the time he reached the door to his room. Again his vision swam, but now San merely closed his eyes a moment and rode out the nauseating wave of it. He was growing used to it, learning to navigate the mess of aches that his body had become, and after a count to five, he could open his eyes again. The door unlocked with a click, and he stepped into the room, closing it soundlessly behind him.
The room wasn't large, but it was clean, and it had its own tiny but serviceable bathroom. San drifted into this room first, though he regretted his decision as he found himself face to face almost at once with the mirror hanging over the sink. The face staring back at him was his own, but so changed that he almost didn't recognize it for a moment.
|
|
|
Post by Linyü on Sept 19, 2020 20:57:32 GMT -6
Pale skin, stretched taut over cheekbones sharpened by gauntness. Lank hair, at once greasy and dull with neglect. His eyes -
- haunted, the eyes of a guilty man, who knew his days were numbered. He knew this was coming. He thought he would have more time. But there was relief too, a sort of knowing acceptance, even before the blade was raised to his throat.
At least now it would be over -
San dug his fingernails into the palms of his hand, and breathed.
The memory faded, but when he opened his eyes, another had come to take its place. For a moment it wasn’t his own face staring back at him from the mirror, but his father’s.
There had always been a resemblance, though his features had always been rounder. Now, stripped down as he was by months of bedridden illness, he had sharpened into a haggard caricature of that half-remembered profile.
|
|