Rosehill Irregulars: The Closed City

Chapter 2

Compared to the peaceful quiet of citizens not wanting to talk over each other in the Upper District, the Lower District was an altogether different beast. Merchants hawked their wares into the ears of passersby and occasionally spat on those who ignored them. Children chased each other around the muddy cobblestones. Every so often one of the tykes would trip up and fall. His mother would then collect him, whispering angrily at him for running. While it was nicer the closer it got to the main road into town, the areas beyond what visitors saw were dirty and filled with vagabonds. Men and women panhandled on the roadside in tattered rags. Beggars were few, but they were loud.

A young half-elf sat on the sidewalk of one of the wide streets. His dark blue silk shirt and neatly coiffed black hair drew sidelong glances, but Duncan knew that any attention he could draw was good for business. He sat cross-legged on a woolen square in order to keep his neatly pressed pants clean. Strangely, even amidst the grime he surrounded himself with, his gaudiness seemed almost equally at home.

"Behold the wonders of magic!" Duncan cried, expelling a dazzling shower of lights from his palms. Children watched him, their mouths agape. He flicked his finger and the lights coalesced into a dragon's head. Illusory flames flickered within its maw. He watched it for a moment, his eyes gleaming.

"Hey mister!" one of the kids said, stepping forward. The illusion flickered and faded. "What's wrong with your arms?" The kid leveled one finger at the shimmering silver scales on Duncan's arms. "You some kinda fish man?"

Duncan looked at them, then his silver eyes darted back up to the child.

"Heh, not quite," he replied, flashing a smile with incisors just a hint bestial. "Pull up a seat, it's quite the story." The child didn't move. Tough crowd. He waved his hands and conjured a sparkling dragon the size of a cat. "You see, one day, years ago, I was wandering around as an adventurer. The contract I'd taken had sent me to rescue a damsel from a dragon. When I went in, I found out that the dragon was even larger than I first thought." A thimble-sized figure appeared in front of the dragon. "Of course, seeing him terrified me, but before I could escape, he wrapped his fingers around me and lifted me right off my feet." The sparkling figures acted out each part of his story. "While he was clutching me, you see, the dragon told me that the damsel was there by her choice, keeping him company."

He took a sip from the closed container of water he'd brought with. "It turns out he was a friendly silverscale just looking for someone to talk to. So he and I sparked up a conversation. It went back and forth for so long I think I may've grown a beard. We spoke about all sorts of things, but he did most of the talking. He told me about things I think the magisters in Justiciar's Rest would kill to know. A bit about Ur-Haraq in its prime, something about the Ven'Sei, and maybe even a thing or two about the Conflux. I didn't talk much, but he seemed to like the chat. When I left, he gave me these scales and this magic so that he would recognize me if we met again."

"Whoa! Really?"

"Really." He snapped his fingers shut and the dragon exploded into harmless sparks. Out of the corner of his eye he saw three figures watching from the other side of the street. One of them jerked a thumb at a passing young woman. As the scene unfolded, his smile waned. He watched as they turned and followed her down a nearby alleyway. There was nothing about that brewing situation he liked.

"There are plenty of more stories to tell, but if you want to hear them, find me tomorrow. Same place, same time. It's been a pleasure," he said, sweeping his black hair back. An elderly woman passed by and tossed a silver coin onto the ground in front of him. "Oh, no." He picked up the coin and handed it back to her. "I don't need this, ma'am. But thank you for the sentiment."

"You'll be here again tomorrow?" one of the children asked.

"Probably." He laughed, throwing his hands out as he walked backwards towards the alley. "Good luck, kids. Ma'am." With a final bow to his small audience, he turned and walked down street after the rough-looking men. He saw one disappear around the next corner and quickened his footsteps. This really smelled fishy.