Fantasy Gods Below

[Nichomedes]

Gods Below​

A crescent shaped blade clattered upon the table, raising nearly every eyebrow in the room. Despite its elegant shape, it possessed a crude, rough-hewn surface that reflected little light. In fact, it almost seemed to cast a shadow in the very air, emitting a disquieting aura of darkness.

Its former wielder, Lucifer du Matin, sank back into his seat, looking relieved to be rid of the thing.

“Ultimately Rolf Osmund did perish in the assault,” he continued his report, “but Rune survives. Thanks to Rolf’s sacrifice, the enemy was felled, and this was recovered from its corpse.”

Soft light filtered in from the colored glass windows, the panes textured to prevent anyone from gazing into the room. As if anyone could, at this elevation. The council chamber sat perched atop one of the highest buildings in Algiers, a fitting place to convene and hold discussions concerning the Triumvirate Gods and their devoted city.

At the head of the table in the center of the room, the long, aged figure of Aesir Halfgood rose with measured grace. He made a gesture, and the other half-dozen men obediently passed the blade in his direction–save one black-haired individual, who sleepily gazed elsewhere as the weapon passed in front of him. He scarcely paid attention as Halfgood lifted the item and felt its heft in one hand.

“Very good,” came the reply, which was more noise than words. Turning the weapon over, he gazed at his lack of reflection in the blade. “Yes. This will make a suitable gift to Io. Pitiable business about Osmund. Send his family my regrets with a small stipend. Write up an award for the brother.”

“Of course.” Lucifer scribbled a note to himself. “There is one final matter: Rune brought someone back. A survivor wandering in the desert.”

An uncomfortable beat of silence filled the round room. Someone cleared their throat. Everyone but Halfgood and the black-haired man shuffled in the growing tension of an expected reply. Finally sensing something amiss, the head of the table briefly flicked up his attention.

“Mn?” Halfgood was too busy turning the artifact over in his hands to grant Lucifer the favor of maintaining eye contact.

“A survivor of what?” Another councilmember asked, feigning concern out of vicarious guilt for Halfgood’s apparent indifference.

“That’s still to be determined, exactly,” Lucifer replied readily, nodding his secret thanks to the side of the table. “Young man, looks about twenty. His clothes were singed and his face was cut. Right now our physicians are caring for him at the infirmary. He’s been given food, water, and—”

“And what?” Halfgood’s eyes angled up from under his bushy brow. “What use is any of this to the city? Or the gods?”

Lucifer swallowed his annoyance and glared down at the table. Instead of saying what he wanted to say, he inhaled and dug his fingernails into his palm. After chewing on his lips for a moment while he crafted his answer, he looked up at Halfgood.

“In his interview, he mentioned a staff.” Lucifer shook his head, still filtering through the information Halfgood might find relevant. “From the description, I think it may be another artifact. He said it can convert sacrifices into boons.”

For the first time, the black-haired man brought his attention to the table. His lone, gray eye seemed to resist the colors from the windows and remained gray as he focused on Lucifer.

“Sacrifices?” Halfgood was barely interested.

“Souls,” Lucifer amended. Then he rolled his hand. “Or something along those lines. I’ll question him personally tomorrow, after he has had some time to rest and recover.”

Halfgood nodded. The motion seemed as much assent as it was a command for Lucifer to stop talking.

“Very good,” Halfgood noised again. “Update me if you uncover the whereabouts of this supposed object, if such a thing actually exists. Should you find out what exactly he survived, perhaps we’ll mount a scouting party.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The young man.” The black-haired man finally spoke, turning the heads of the other council members. He reached up and adjusted his eyepatch in a short pause. It was difficult to determine whether it was the accessory or the attention that made him uncomfortable. Or annoyed him. “Does he have a name?”

Lucifer suppressed his smile of relief at this soothing show of humanity.

“Ambrosia,” he replied. The name that followed was pronounced with some difficulty, unwieldy and unfamiliar as it was. “An… Antarias Ambrosia, if I’m not mistaken.”

---

The following morning began with a soft knock at the door.

Lucifer du Matin entered a moment later, without waiting for an invitation. The sunlit room met him handsomely as he strode in, well dressed in a sharp-shouldered, brocade coat. He looked about a half-decade from thirty, with bright blue eyes, clean face, and wavy golden hair. An ornamental dagger with a filigreed ivory sheath was fastened to his white belt.

Since entering the city, this was not the first man Antarias had encountered wearing a weapon. Many individuals in the City of Algiers seemed to be carrying an arm of somesort, usually a sword or dagger. This had seemed threatening at first, but such items appeared to be more accessories conveying status than actual tools of war. The more intricately patterned, the higher the station of its wielder.

Judging from this man’s weapon, he quite outranked everyone who Antarias had met so far.

The infirmary where Antarias had been brought had been at the base of a towering structure in the center of the city. It was an odd building, with walls comprised of smooth, seamless sandstone. Like an artificial cavern or a large sculpture made of plaster. He’d been provided a small room with a singular, round window, and a triangular cot in the corner. A pitcher of water and a cup sat upon a nearby table, along with a plate of remains from the guest’s last meal.

“Good morning, Mr. Ambrosia,” Lucifer began. He placed a hand upon his chest as he stopped midway through the room. “My name is Luc du Matin. I’m an official representing the interests of the Gods Council here in Algiers. I’ve been briefed about your arrival here in our city. My deepest sympathies for what you’ve gone through. I was hoping we might talk a moment. How are you feeling?”

 

[Martyin]

Never before had Antarias seen the face of hatred in anyone’s eyes. Yet here he stood, witnessing a massive crowd of furious, murderous faces. All tinged with an orange hue of fire from their torches. Torches had never before looked so threatening…

“You’ve lied to us! We gave you everything!”

Women and men screamed their betrayal, forcing Antarias to hear their anguish and pain and fury. His hands trembled as he shakily stepped back, his heart splintering as he recognized every single face as they screamed.

“I gave you my daughter!”
“Why did you lie?! We loved you!”
“You’re no god! None of you are!”
“Disgusting, lying snake…!”

The crowd descended upon him, and Antarias opened his mouth to speak- to shout, or scream, anything! But nothing came out... He stepped back, gasping as a weightless sensation took over, tumbling backwards off of the rocky cliff. They all continued to scream, jeer, some even began to cheer his demise as he fell. My friends. Wind whistled by his ears, he watched the crowd grow smaller as the world went dark. I thought you were my friends…
----

Antarias clawed his way out of the dream, jerking upright and breathing hard as he oriented himself back to reality. Even in the midst of the nightmare, he knew it was a dream, but the scenario was so hot and fresh in his mind that it burned horribly like the fires that destroyed their crops. Wide eyes scanned his surroundings, recognizing the unfamiliar walls of his new room. Shoulders dropped and his face fell in disappointment. A quick glance to the window only confirmed it; he was in the city of Algiers. No longer at home.

Home no longer existed.

Rubbing at his hands revealed sore bruises and burn marks, reminding him of the other burn marks and bruises that littered most of his body. But despite the soreness, the most painful thing was knowing that he was the lucky one. Dropping his face into his hands, Anty tried to recall the pinpricks of tears that threatened to drop. A painful knot twisted in his chest as distant echoes of familiar, familial screams threatened to breach his memory, but he shoved it all away. Storming out of bed and into the bathroom, forced to stare at his face beneath frayed, layered bangs that mostly covered his eyes. Breathing deeply as he worked to quell the rush of memory as he focused on the now. Even before the attack, losing his home, losing everything- Anty's hair had always been a useful tool to hide the anxious mess he was deep inside. Bangs with varying layers that covered most of his face, obscuring yellow eyes so reflectively bright that some might have thought they were glowing if they were visible. Only his mouth was visible to most people. Rigidly perfect, clear sun-baked skin was marred by bruises and burn marks along his cheeks, as well as throughout the rest of his body.

Taking in his appearance and waking up in this room made everything feel so much more... real. His shoulders dropped in defeat, and turned away from the mirror to wash up.

The city of Algiers was nothing like he’d expected, Antarias mused whilst dressing in the humble clothes gifted to him. Thankful for the long sleeves that would help him hide his soreness. People were kind and welcoming, and especially humane. He’d been led to believe the city was the exact opposite. The mere idea of the heartless, brutally violent City of Algiers had scared him as a timid child… All of his parents stories from childhood were still fresh in his memory. Then again… It wasn’t just Algiers. He realized, They told me everything and everywhere was dangerous… except for home. His gaze turned once again to the window, It was all a lie, just to keep us from leaving…

An abrupt knock to the door startled Antarias out of his thoughts. He froze, and thankfully the knocker did not wait to be allowed in else they would have been left in an awkward silence. Unlike the gentleman, the raven-haired young man bore no dagger of any significance, and he tried not to show his alarm. Though he was unsuccessful, his yellow eyes narrowed with a recently-learned wariness. Lucifer’s words were like water doused over an anxious flame, relief coming to Antarias as he reminded himself of where he was. He isn't from home. He reminded himself.

“Good morning…” Antarias tried to offer a practiced smile, his tone sounding heavier than he’d like. A million times in the past has he had to pretend and put on a mask, the act of doing so now to this stranger felt almost like a comfort. A return to civility that centered him to the present, rather than the past. He was able to nod evenly as the man gave what Anty assumed were his polite condolences, “I’m doing…” The words died in his throat for a brief, lingering moment. Clearing his throat before continuing a bit breathlessly with an apologetic smile for the pause, “I’m doing better, thank you! It’s a pleasure to meet you.” So practiced were his manners, that Antarias almost introduced himself again out of habit, barely holding back from that redundancy. “H-How can I help you, sir?”

 

[Nichomedes]

Lucifer smiled pleasantly at the stranger's display of courtesy. The traveler seemed amenable. Good. Provided he was honest, this would be an easy errand. Quite the contrast to the day before, delivering the news of Rolf's death to the Osmunds. Although they had accepted the donation from the Council's coffers, his wife had all but spit at his feet. Rune, who was still shaken by the attack, was not well consoled by news of his imminent award ceremony either.

Idly, he wondered if his late father had ever played errand boy for the Gods Council before they had granted him his seat. The indignity was stifling.

"Oh, just Luc. Please." Moving to a bench near the wall, Lucifer adjusted his dagger as he sat himself down so it wouldn't dig into his side. "I'm certain the pleasure is all mine. We don't receive many visitors here in Algiers, and now I find myself with the privilege of making your acquaintance."

Pressing his hands together, Lucifer sifted through his options of where to begin. He had to temper his genuine compassion for the fellow with the Gods Council's agenda: uncovering more information about this potential magic artifact. Not only to coordinate its acquisition, if possible, but to protect Algiers from the ripples of unrest that might stir if it fell into the wrong hands. All while leading Astarias to thinking that such a thing was the only one of its kind and that he was possibly mistaken about its supposed powers.

"While I regret whatever circumstances may have brought you here, and left you in such a state," Lucifer nodded to Astarias in his infirmary cot, "I am pleased to welcome you to our fair city. Be assured, we shall see that you are well provided for. You are invited to stay permanently, if that is your wish. I can arrange for quarters and a living allowance to get your life started as a fully naturalized Algerian. The gods here bless us with plenty to share."

Lucifer opened his hands to Astarias.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to begin to by asking you to describe the place you come from." He grimaced guiltily and glanced aside. "I know you were questioned yesterday, but I dare not draw conclusions from second hand information. I was told you survived some sort of revolt against a god? Can you elaborate on this?"

 

[Martyin]

"Alright, Luc, then." Antarias nodded a little reluctantly, running the nickname over in his head a few times. Honorifics and displays of respect were deeply ingrained into him, a super trained habit that undoubtedly would rear it's head again. Nothing that a little practice wouldn't cure. "Ant would be fine too, mister is my-" dads name. He cut himself off. That ice breaker wasn't going to work anymore. "Mister is a few years away for me." Anty was so used to the nickname that he hardly realized that he'd asked a stranger to call him a bug.

Hints of a possible new life surfaced as Lucifer insisted that Antarias was invited to stay permanently within the city. "That sounds rather kind." For the briefest of moments, possibilities flashed through his mind. A new home, new library books to read, new friends to be made and a possible new family to be found- The ghosts of the future seemed to surround him like a fleeting memory, abruptly fading away when screams of the past cut in. An invitation to recount the events, redescribe everything... "Oh..." He couldn't hide the dread and weariness in his voice, yet he wouldn't protest. A force of habit, to be obedient. "I hope I can know why

This time, Antarias would ignore the lapping flames that itched at the sides of his memory. Taking a breath and letting the air loosen the knot tied in his chest ever so slightly. "Yes, I can explain... Well, I can try." Reluctance and anxiety plagued his words, even before he'd said anything it sounded as if he was keen to avoid something. "...In all honesty, I don't think my recount of the events was... well-told. So if truth is sought, then perhaps it's best I do repeat myself." He'd add in an effort to stall, gathering his thoughts. It all felt like it happened yesterday- was it yesterday? Or last week? Antarias wondered if there was a difference.

"There was... a revelation, of sorts. A revelation about out god." Antarias began, his long bangs doing well to hide his drifting gaze as he looked out the window. With the memories so fresh, it took little effort to remember. Instantly, he could imagine himself surrounded by rows of housing, far distant fields of full-grown crops that beautifully outlined the horizon. "Their... our... ah." Every word felt like blasphemy. Like a poisonous lie on his tongue. What's worse, he didn't know what this city considered blasphemous.

"The god was... not... one. Not a god, I mean. At least, the Family- the er, settlement... everyone became convinced of that, they claimed the source of all-" our "their godly power came not from the gods, but from a tool. A staff." Passed down through family for generations. "It was... Well. Everyone was very devout in our home. Disrespect to the gods alone is not taken lightly, s-so this... it was all a bit much for the villagers to handle. Every person turned into a people, and the people became a group that was made of nothing but anger, and..." The crops and houses caught fire, and Antarias smoothly ignored the angry faces plastered all over the walls of the room. "Everyone became irrational, and revolted violently."

 

[Nichomedes]

As Antarias labored over his fractured answer, Lucifer grew more and more restless. He felt increasingly disturbed—not so much at what the young man told him, but the untold struggle that was playing over his face. At several points during his disjointed explanation, Antarias looked quite literally lost. Within his own thoughts, within the room, within the world itself.

Lucifer had never been more than a mile from the city wall. He'd seen the horrid beasts that lurk in underground tunnels, and he'd felt the searing sun and the dry air threatening to pull all the water from his body, but he knew little of the people who lived beyond Algiers.

Whatever Antarias had experienced, Lucifer could not even speculate. But clearly it had pierced the young man to his core, and now here was he, digging his fingers carelessly into the wound.

"A—Alright." Lucifer held up both hands, pleading with Antarias to stop toiling himself. "That's enough. I'm sorry. Perhaps it's too soon to be interrogating you. It was not my intention to cause you any distress."

Leaning back on the bench, Lucifer rubbed the back of his neck. He felt like a damn fool.

"I'm afraid my curiosity about the world beyond Algiers got the better of me." He flashed an apologetic smile, but it drowned quickly under a heavy torrent of guilt. "Whatever knowledge you have to share is of great value to us, but only when you're ready to offer it. For now, let me see to it that your needs are met. Is there anyone you know within the city who we can contact?"

Though Algiers was a landlocked nation, it did host a few transplants from other civilizations. However, very few of these travelers brought books or scrolls with any information about their home or the places beyond. The map of the world was patchy and incomplete, and most of it was based on word of mouth. Staff or no, whatever Antarias had to share could add to the growing compendium of knowledge house in Algerian walls.

"Failing that," Lucifer suppressed a grimace, "I can get you set up with a home in the Styx District. There are a number of flats which the Council can allot to..." He trailed off as a new low tenor entered the room.

"Sending him to Styx? Surely we can do better than that."

A tall, slim figure in a long, burgundy coat stepped into the room easily, smirking at Lucifer as he came to a stop. Straight, black hair poured over his shoulders like silken rain, much of it flowing over the right half of his face. Underneath it could be spied an elegantly crafted eyepatch, fashioned from leather and iron. Matching his missing right eye, the stranger was also without his right arm, an empty sleeve folded and pinned to his side. Somewhere in his 40s, the man stood with a very slight hunch, as if slowly being crushed by the weight of the world.

Unlike Lucifer, this man did not wear a weapon at his side. If he had, based on how the rest of him was dressed it seemed likely that it would have been just as fine in quality. If not better.

Lucifer swallowed the rest of his sentence and sighed with a smile that was half chagrin and half irritation.

"May I introduce," he lifted a hand to the black haired man, "Ambassador Andrzej Durante. What a pleasant surprise, sir."

Absorbing the words, Durante gradually shifted his attention from Lucifer to Antarias. He wasted no time with pleasantries.

"Let us not burden our new arrival with momentous commitments and life-changing decisions." He gazed at Antarias through falling strands of hair. "Before you decide to stay or move on, you are welcome to find rest at my manor, with my family. I would be honored to host a traveler from the world beyond."

 

[Martyin]

Antarias looked surprised when Lucifer had the decency to stop him. In an instant, the crackles of fire and angry faces vanished back into a not-so-distant memory. So wrapped up in finding the cleanest, quickest version of the story that he hardly thought about how the inner turmoil had been written on his face. "Oh..." Was all he could say, surprising himself with how relieved he sounded. On the one hand, Anty didn't exactly want to hide his past, yet... he also realized how revisiting the topic wasn't as simple as expected.

The topic was shifted toward the present and future. For a moment, he tried to think if he might have any friends or distant relatives in the city, but almost immediately Antarias gave a rueful laugh, unable to help the solemn sound. "No, I am very certain that I have no contacts in the city." He answered, doubtful any of the Family had made it to the city. Even if anyone did make it here, he realized, They wouldn't be happy to see me.

His shoulders began to relax as Lucifer described possible housing regardless of his lack of connection to the city. After weathering the dessert and realizing how unprotected the wilderness can be, Antarias was glad to sleep in a closet if it meant basic shelter. A flat of his own was nothing to complain about, utterly indifferent and unaware of what the Styx district offered in particular.

Abruptly, they were interrupted, and Antarias looked up in alarm at the arrival of a new stranger. Another man marked by high status thanks to clothing. Anty couldn't decide if he was imagining it, but Durante seemed to exude a certain confidence typically found within authority. The assumption seemed to ring true seeing as he came with a title. An ambassador?!

Initially too stunned to speak, Anty wondered if he'd misheard the man's gracious offer. "...really?" For a moment, all manners were forgotten. His voice was deadpan and full of disbelief, a tone almost accusing the man of foolishness for offering his home to a complete stranger. Then, abruptly, Antarias remembered himself and cleared his throat, "That sounds like a very kind offer, thank you, sir! A-And, admittedly, I'm.. surprised." He began, "If I may ask, with all due respect, is there a reason for your kindness? Am I expected to... repay the favor in some way?" Antarias glanced to Lucifer, then back to Durante. Even within his sheltered life amongst the Family, nothing was free, and typically kindness was expected to be returned.

But what could these people need from the likes of him?

 

[Nichomedes]

Repay the favor?

“Oh.” The smile Durante wore was as subtle, but unmistakable, as the hunch in his shoulders. “Almost certainly. Lucifer,” he canted his head toward his associate, “will want his debrief eventually, I’m sure.”

With an audible sigh, Lucifer shuffled uncomfortably. Durante himself sat on the Gods Council. Antarias’ ‘debrief’ was intended for the very council he served, not some hell-bent quest to ply information from a traumatized survivor. But sure, why not?

“As for me,” Durante’s attention slid back to Antarias with all the hurry of glacier. The man seemed to exist in slow motion. Either he was very thoughtful about every word spoken and every look given, or he was simply very tired. Maybe both. “Well. I should think the company will be enough. I’ll tell my wife to ready a room. Ant, was it? Lucifer, would you—”

“Luc, sir,” Lucifer cut in with a correction. “If you don’t mind.”

Durante’s subtle smile was patient and enduring.

“Would you mind taking Ant to my home,” he continued his request, “when the opportunity allows?” Once again, Durante pinned Antarias with his crystalline attention. The gray of his eye was like colorless quartz. “It is so very easy to become lost in this city. As I’m sure you’ll find.”

“It will be done, sir,” Lucifer reported faithfully.

With a soft bow, Durante closed his interactions with the both of them. Without waiting for another word, he turned and left the room abruptly.

Lucifer cleansed himself with a breath before attempting to offer up an explanation.

“He’s a strange man, I know,” he began as he rose to his feet. “But don’t let his mysterious act fool you. He’s really one of the kindest, most honest men I’ve ever met. You’re in good hands, Antarias.”

Truth be told, Lucifer wasn’t quite sure why Durante would offer up his own home out of the blue like this. It was kind, and not entirely out of character, but he rarely went out of his way to attend council meetings, let alone visit strangers in the infirmary.

Then again, perhaps it wasn’t so strange. When he lost his arm and his eye, he’d gone through a significantly violent experience in which he’d nearly lost his life—of which he spoke little about. Perhaps he saw the same experience in Antarias and whatever he’d gone through. Friends through respective traumas. It made sense, and it fit with Durante’s whimsy-driven behavior.

“I believe that’s all I have, Antarias.” Lucifer crossed himself and offered a slight bow. “I’ll return in the afternoon to pick you up. Give you some time to collect yourself. That is, if you do intend to take Ambassador Durante up on his offer?”

A niggling thought wormed at the back of Lucifer’s mind. Antarias had introduced himself as ‘Ant’ well before Durante came into the room. How long had he been standing outside, listening in?

---

As Lucifer led Antarias out of the infirmary, the young man was given a second opportunity to take in the sights of the city. Harried from an unknown struggle and exhausted from the desert, it was understandable that he hadn’t had must chance to absorb his first looks of Algiers.

Much like the five-hundred foot wall surrounding the city on all sides, many of the structures of the city rose to impossible heights. Various wide towers were composed either of clay, brick, or stone—sometimes all three—with an even mix of old construction chipped by centuries of age and new builds still looking pristine and solid. Algerians seemed to build onto old structures, so the construction style changed—often haphazardly—as they got taller.

High above the ground, at network of bridges blotted out the sky like a thick cobweb, connecting buildings high in the air so that one need not descend to the lower levels to get around the city.

Troughs of clean water flowed from above around special channels in several of the buildings, delivering water from some unknown source high above the ground. They emptied into communal wells and pools, where cityfolk appeared to be relaxing, socializing, or gathering the water into jars. The pools overflowed, creating rivulets of mud where children played in puddles and pet dogs prepared themselves to ruin their masters' homes.

Much like Lucifer, most everyone in sight wore a weapon of some kind—though much less ornate than his ivory dagger. Simple swords hung from the waists from many of the men. The women as well seemed to be armed with daggers or cutlasses. Even some of the older children were equipped with wooden knives. It was simply a part of everyday culture.

There wasn't a great deal of greenery in sight, at least not at this level. Apart from clumps of weeds or dead vines, the abundance of water seemed to fuel little plant life. Contrarily, hanging gardens from above added a dose of color to the decidedly sand-colored city, which seemed to get more ornate the higher they went. The odd petal and leaf sprinkled down from above.

“This is Styx, by the way,” Lucifer explained as he led Antarias through the muddy streets. “Elysium is up there. Where the ambassador lives. City districts tend to be vertical, here. I’m sure it’s different where you’re from.”

 

[Martyin]

Anty's eyes drifted to Lucifer as Durante gestured toward him, then back to the ambassador. “...I see.” He tried not to show his doubts. The answer seemed a bit… lacking. Newcomers in his home would normally need to earn their keep with some light farming or cleaning, some sort of not-so-glorious job. Rarely had newcomers ever been invited to any important house. Durante’s meticulous movement only served to give Ant more time to stew in his anxious thoughts as he tried to interpret any subtle hints unsuccessfully.

The answer didn’t really satisfy, yet didn’t open the conversation for Anty to inquire further. Instead, he was surprised upon being addressed by name, nodding almost reflexively, “Yes, that’s correct…” He mumbled in confirmation, perturbed by something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Durante left as soon as he arrived, leaving the younger man confused. He was grateful that Luc said something, a relief to know Anty wasn’t the only one who found the man unusual. Not threatening, but… certainly mysterious.

Recently, Antarias learned that mysterious could possibly mean dangerous… Luc seemed to think differently, though, eliciting a surprised expression out of the young man as he watched Luc for a moment. Perhaps he was being too hasty in his judgment of the ambassador. “He does seem… gracious.” Anty reluctantly agreed, trying not to sound so surprised. “It’s kind to offer me his home, it- it might actually be nice to have company.” He’d nod his affirmative to Luc, “Yes, I think I will take up his offer. I-It might be a little rude to reject it.”

Soon enough, Luc took his leave as well. Antarias offered his polite good-bye and a thank-you, although he wasn’t particularly sure what exactly he was thanking the man for.

Left alone until Luc’s next arrival, Anty looked around the humble room in an extended silence. Durante’s prior words still hung over his thoughts, Lucifer will want his debrief eventually. Luc didn’t seem to be in a particular hurry, but in an effort to do something useful Antarias figured he could get his … story straight. Maybe writing the story down would be easier than telling it? After scavenging around his room for a notepad and pencil, Anty sat in his bed and tried to think back. Approaching the memories more gently and honestly now that he had no audience.

But all Anty could do was stare at the page. All of a sudden it felt as if his mind was blank, and the room was not so empty anymore. He shut the notebook.

—--

Touring through the city was proving to be much more of an enriching experience than Antarias had expected. The wall alone had been a spectacle, and continued to catch his gaze whenever he somehow caught a glimpse from afar. Yet impossibly tall cities kept dragging Anty’s attention upward, and more than once he’d nearly tripped over himself just looking at everything. As they passed by stacks of brick and cement, Anty rested his hand on them, feeling the worn strength that came with age.

Tall building would have been more than enough to impress. Anty’s previous faming settlement could never compare to the well-established city. Yet his imagination was tested as well, never had he imagined stacking neighborhoods on top of one each other. The thought of receiving his water from a fresh waterfall just above was oddly exciting. I wonder if they get water from the skies, like we did?

The glint of weapons was the only thing that distracted Antarias from his sight seeing. The first two armed passerby’s had alarmed him initially until more and more residents appeared with their own weaponry. All of these weapons were so casually worn- it was a stark contrast to his old home that disallowed any weapons. “It is very different, yes! I thought my home was fancy but-” He laughed ruefully, “This city is far beyond anything we’ve ever made. How did this-” He ran his hand across the stone again, “even get built? I never knew anything could be built so high up.”

Styx was a familiar reminder. Some residents had mentioned districts in passing, or perhaps Luc did, and only now was Anty trying to finally understand what that really meant. “So Styx is on the bottom, and it only goes up from there?”

 

[Nichomedes]

In the infirmary that morning…

“Gracious… is one word for it, I suppose.” Despite having known Ambassador Durante for some years, Lucifer seemed to struggle with interpreting the man’s behavior as much as a perfect stranger. Most paid Durante little mind, having no interest in or patience for guessing at his motives, but Lucifer was of a curious breed. Seemed Antarias was too. “You’ll have to forgive him. We used to be quite close, actually…”

Lucifer stopped himself before he started lamenting small tragedies in front of a man who’d quite literally just lost everything. He cleared his throat, trying to suppress his embarrassment.

“He has a cat named Cookie,” he added with a laugh, trying to cut the tension he imagined was there. “I hope you aren’t allergic.”

---

In the city proper that afternoon…

“It’s an old tradition in Algiers,” Lucifer explained suddenly. He’d noticed Antarias eyeing various weapons on citygoers’ hips with a certain amount of trepidation. “Carrying weapons, I mean. There’s nothing to worry about. Most of us have no idea how to use them.”

Many ornamental weapons were not weapons at all, but faux accessories that could not be unsheathed. Of course, no one would confess to wearing such ‘cheater’ items. It was generally reserved for those types who couldn’t afford ornately crafted weapons but didn’t want to wear something plain. A middle-class sin, Lucifer supposed.

“They say this was a warrior settlement in ancient times.” It felt a little presumptive to play the part of tour guide when he was really just a council secretary, but it was difficult to resist the temptation to impress outsiders with a city’s rich history. With books being rare and difficult to transport, histories were so rare in this day and age. “It’s a holdover to symbolize that we haven’t forgotten where we came from.”

Antarias wasn’t the first to marvel at the city’s architecture. It even baffled some native residents who wanted to get involved in the construction of new additions.

“Built by men, fortified by gods.” Lucifer shrugged. “So they say. Selemb, the god of earth, raised the wall around the city countless ages ago. Once the city expanded to the walls, we had nowhere to go but up. Men built the bases of everything, but Selemb sees that the structures remain stable. You see what I mean when I say we’re blessed.”

Lucifer pointed upward with his chin.

“I live up there, in the Mezzanines. Not quite the top, but quite a ways up from the bottom. I grew up in… Ah. That’s embarrassing.”

As they made their way down the street, a trio of city workers in mud-stained clothing came more clearly into view. Assembled up and over each other on a ladder, they were laboring to cover up thick painted lines that had been slathered with more haste than neatness. At this point, about half of the graffiti was already covered up, but the main theme of the image was still discernible. It was the symbol of an owl, or rather, an owl’s iconic glare, drawn to roughly the height of two men.

“I’m afraid we have our own brand of ruffians and malcontent youths,” Lucifer confessed as he passed the soon-to-be-destroyed artwork. “Especially in the Styx. Misspent energy is all it is, really. I hope whoever painted that learns to channel their creativity into something more productive.”

Odd that the owl symbol would be painted so large. It would have taken quite a bit of effort to reach that high without anything nearby to climb on, just for a bit of visibility. Was there a greater meaning behind it? Perhaps there was more than one artist? Or perhaps it wasn’t worth the trouble to wonder about any further.

After passing some distance past the vandalized wall, Lucifer paused to place a hand on Antarias’ shoulder.

“There. That’s the way up.”

He pointed ahead at a square contraption rigged to a system of pulleys affixed to a tall, thin tower. Long, narrow weights hung motionless alongside the thick ropes, like silent pendulums in a giant grandfather clock. A pair of men donned in leather armor lingered nearby, both of them leaning on their halberds.

Lucifer drew an imaginary line in the air.

“We call it the water lift. It uses weights and the aqueduct system. Quite ingenious, actually.” He chuckled, but it sounded hollow. Like he was delivering a speech that had been rehearsed and intended for an audience. “I don’t really understand it myself. There are stairs here and there, but this is much more direct. And faster.”

The guards barely stirred as Lucifer led Antarias past them, offering only a curt nod to gain entry to the lift. It was unclear why they were actually there. Were they meant to maintain order, or was use of the lift exclusive to a certain class of citizen? Lucifer did not seem obliged to explain.

A short lever adjusted the alignment of the lines attached to the pendulums, and after a short wait, the lift was scooped off the ground and rose steadily through the air. The distant sound of rushing water implied some inner mechanisms at work within the tower as the pendulum ropes groaned in their pulleys.

“The system is quite robust,” Lucifer assured his guest. Even so, he gripped the side pillar of the lift to maintain his balance. “The first time my father took me on the water lift, I was fairly nervous. Thought it was magic. Now I ascend and descend several times a day.” His sentence ended in a slightly tiresome monotone, as if he couldn’t decide whether he was complaining or bragging.

Gradually, the many towers of the city shrank—squat, tall, fat, thin, and everything in between—shrank beneath them. As they rose past platforms built between towers, the sunlight grew brighter and less obstructed. As a consequence, greenery seemed to thrive higher in the city, all of it confined to cordoned gardens. Some of them were quite overgrown, and even small trees grew here in the canopy of Algiers. They erupted at every angle, some of them as neatly trimmed focal points, and some of them wild and unkempt.

From up here, the city almost resembled a colony of termites, with citizens residing in their stalagmite-like mounds. Beyond the city wall, the edges of the desert could be seen just under the horizon. A sandy haze blurred the lines between the land and the sky.

“Algerians like to be close to the sky,” Lucifer explained out of a sudden impulse of pride. “The sun and moon are embodied by our other two gods, Piraeus and Io respectively. We have an affinity for heights—visitors tend to disagree, I find.” He chuckled awkwardly. “Few though they are. You’re doing alright, I hope? My mother used to get light headed on the lift.”

 

[Martyin]

“It’s an old tradition in Algiers,” Lucifer explained suddenly. He’d noticed Antarias eyeing various weapons on citygoers’ hips with a certain amount of trepidation. “Carrying weapons, I mean. There’s nothing to worry about. Most of us have no idea how to use them.”

"O-Oh... I don't know how to use them either." Antarias was mumbling as he replied, his voice likely barely audible as it mixed into the general ambiance of the city. Not only did he not know how to use a weapon; none of the family did. No one was expected to ever fight or need a weapon... They had their God for that. The thought made Anty's palm itch in discomfort- to think that he no longer had that protection. Was it ever even real? He tried to listen as Lucifer explained further, nodding ever so slightly. No words would come out though. All he could do was follow along, ignoring an increasing numbness spreading from his chest.

He'd look up as Solemb was mentioned. The wall was one structure Anty had not paid any close attention to during his arrival. His mind was... elsewhere, and so hampered by exhaustion and heat that he never got the chance to marvel at anything beyond the walls massive size. Yet, learning that a god had risen such a massive structure... It suddenly made him hungry to see it up close.

Antarias almost failed to notice the graffiti at first. The artwork was a marvel to see, even as it was being covered up. The young man hadn't seen many artworks in his time, so he was easily impressed by the display. Yet, he reminded himself, art was not practical or helpful; instead, it would serve the Family better to take care of the fields, do chores, clean something... Art and music had no use, only the lazy and selfish would rather serve their creativity over their Family. Yet, it seemed Algiers had Undesirables in their midst... How wrong it was... Anty could only imagine how horribly guilty the artists must've felt for their selfishness. "I hope they'll be found soon..."

The pair moved along, and Anty tried to listen as Lucifer briefly explained the system in place, though he certainly didn't understand it. Instead more distracted by the unmoving guards as he dwelled upon Algier's issue with Undesirables. Why were guards necessary? Were there really that many troublemakers? So few undesirables were allowed amongst the Family back home, any that refused to do their part would eventually give their lives to the crops. There was no tolerance or room for the lazy, or worse. But this way, even the worthless were made worthy, thanks to this sacrifice. Yet it seemed Algiers had no such option...

Do their gods not require sacrifice?

Anty was so deep in his thoughts that slightest movement from the lift startled him, copying Lucifer and immediately grabbing hold of the pillar. "Oh- Ohhh! I see now what you mean!" He was almost embarrassed, suddenly piecing together the man's earlier description and mention of stairs. "Oh wow, we really are going up high." Lucifer went on to explain Algier's connection to the sky, mentioning Piraeus and Io even. "Oh I think I'm fine? We're not that high up, after all." Watching the buildings as they descended was interesting, maybe even fun to a certain degree. But when Anty peaked over the edge, the ground seemed to swim further and further away. A sense of vertigo hit him and he stepped away, sufficiently humbled. "...Nevermind, I see why she would get lightheaded..." Ant took a deep breath to clear the swimming sensation, "Does she still feel that way? Or has it gotten better with time?" He'd ask, not quite thinking about the question or the past tense used in mentioning her.

 

[Nichomedes]

As Antarias lost his balance, Lucifer reflexively reached out to catch the poor fellow. Before they touched, he managed to right himself, but Lucifer was left with a smirk of smug amusement. Newcomers were always taken by surprise, evidence that Algiers was unique in its vertical element. It was always adorable to watch them adjust.

His look melted an instant later as he soberly remembered the reason Antarias was in the city at all. The man had lost everything. That wasn't funny.

"Ah, well." Lucifer cleared his throat. Speaking of his mother brought to mind the soft, warm sadness of her memory. It was a joy to remember her, but he withered as he realized how difficult it was to remember her voice. He had no siblings, no living parents. It was just him now. When was the last time anyone was glad to see him? "She adjusted eventually. Sadly she passed when I was a teenager. A few years before my father. Almost there now."

Lucifer attempted to brusquely change the subject as he realized Antarias would not be making this trip often. After he'd worn out his welcome at the ambassador's home, he'd either leave the city or move into a hovel in the Styx. It might take years of hard work and self application before he'd even have to climb a flight of stairs.

As the lift slowed to a stop, Lucifer opened the gate and welcomed Antarias to step off before him. Then he moved past to lead him into an entirely separate facet of Algiers.

The airy promenade through the city canopy was a far different experience from the muddy crawl down in the Styx. Here the broad, lofty walkways between buildings were caressed by a gentle, fragrant breeze, perfumed by the floral gardens bursting from every direction. They lined the walkway railings, framed windows of structures that climbed still higher, served as focal points in the middle of open terraces, and filled the gardens of the tiered residences climbing ever higher in the distance.

Without anything to obstruct the sky, the sun shined cheerily onto the floating streets below. Trees lining the center of the walkways provided spots of cool shade. The stone tiles were free of horse leavings and rubbish, littered only by an idyllic sprinkling of blossom petals and fallen leaves. Indeed, it seemed horses were not brought into the upper canopy, nor were their carts or wagons. Here, there was neither a need for hurry or the transportation of goods. Everyone moved by foot.

Another curious detail to note was peaceful quiet. No dogs barking in the distance, no peddlers advertising their wares, no mothers yelling at their children. Indeed the only animals up here seemed to be songbirds and fat, stray cats. There were no street vendors in sight, no criers sharing the news. There was only a ghostly hint of violin playing somewhere, perhaps at an open café or a private venue.

Despite the heavenly peace of the upper city, there was one unsettling specter haunting the walkways: the promise of peril lying only a few yards in any direction. Though the walkway rail gardens were tall, thick, and discouraged anyone from crossing them, an incalculable fall to certain death lurked just on the other side. An errant child, an unfortunate victim, or a crestfallen lover could easily meet the end of their life should they stumble—intentionally or otherwise—too far past the cordoned areas.

Lucifer led the way unfazed, oblivious to the unique beauty and danger of his native home. It was bizarre to consider that this fantastical city could have been normal, even boring, to one who’d lived here all his life. On the other hand, it was very possible he would have been just as shocked by the two-dimensional existence of the Ambrosia home if he’d ever seen it.

“Try to stay close,” Lucifer warned as he looked back. “It’s easy to get lost up here. The paths are winding and there are few shortcuts. A lot of newcomers get turned around. I’ll try to procure a map of Elysium for you.” He nodded forward. “The residential square is up ahead.”

Up ahead indeed. Past the crowns of other buildings which surely led into official spaces and governmental halls, a tiered complex of grand homes rose like luxurious rolling hills before them. The walkways broadened into plateaus large enough to accommodate front and back gardens of various sizes and three story manors with multiple wings. The impossibly tall buildings beneath existed like pillars holding them up to the sky.

Within their own cordoned properties and even outside in the open gardens, children played in fountains supplied by the aqueducts that flowed through their own canals weaving through the walkways. Well-dressed gardeners tended to the hedges and flowers with great care, paying Lucifer and Antarias no mind as they passed. Somewhere, the violin grew louder.

Eventually, Lucifer seemed to select one manor out of many, passing through a creaking wrought-iron gate into a circular garden of roses and foxgloves. What made this manor one more distinct than the others was anyone’s guess. Although each home possessed unique design, the ubiquitous luxury eventually became monotonous. Even exhausting.

“I remember when I first came here as a child—” Lucifer was cut off by a gleeful cry.

“Uncle Lucy!”

A small, energetic shape emerged somewhere from the hedges, preceded by a bounding furball of gray cat. While the cat soon disappeared, its pursuer came clearly into sight. A boy of about five, sporting a mop of curling black hair, looked about to attack Lucifer with a happy embrace, but slowed to a confused stop when he spied the stranger Antarias.

“Good afternoon, Julian.” Lucifer smiled warmly. “Don’t worry. This is Antarias; he’s a friend.”

Julian rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, unsure. Antarias received no greeting, just a long, suspicious stare.

“Luc,” a melodic woman’s voice rose from the garden. It belonged to a tall, stately woman in a green velveteen dress with damask patterns. Her hair was also black, and braided into a tidy updo. Judging by her apparent age, which was at least mid-thirties, she had to be Durante’s wife. “So good to see you. Andrzej mentioned you’d be by.”

“You look well, Evelyn.” Lucifer and Evelyn joined arms briefly and he kissed her politely on the cheek. He then broke away and then waved to Antarias. “This is Antarias Ambrosia, the survivor Rune found. It’s his first time in the city. Antarias, Evelyn.”

“So it is.” Evelyn reached for Antarias’ hand to hold it sincerely. “My heart goes out to you and what you’ve been through. You must feel so lost and confused. I’ll do everything in my power to make you comfortable here while you recover. Do you have any particular needs I can attend? Foods you prefer, or perhaps some religious accommodation?”

She gave Lucifer a knowing look, then turned back to Antarias.

“If it gives you any comfort, Andrzej and I come from beyond the city as well. It took some… adjusting, when we first arrived.” She squeezed Antarias' hand in her warm fingers. "Just know, no matter how you're feeling, you are safe here."

 

[Martyin]

Luc's attempt to catch Anty went unnoticed as he focused entirely on keeping his balance. He was a bit grateful that he didn't manage to eat anything that morning; his stomach still as a cold stone and unresponsive, even as the lift carried them along. Watching the horizon steadily rise wasn't unsettling at all, but looking down at the ground... Antarias already learned the importance of not looking down when up so high. I wonder if sis would like- He quickly stopped that thought, letting his eyes wander in an effort to suppress any lazy thought about his family. An effort he had to redouble as Lucifer explained the absence of his own mother. "I see..." Anty replied empathetically, barely saying a thing for fear of saying the wrong word. After reaching the city, more than one stranger had told him 'sorry for your loss,' and all he could think about was how much of a slap in the face the phrase seemed like. It sounded disingenuous to hear peoples 'consolotion,' so he decided not to bother Lucifer with a pitiful, meaningless sorry.

Stepping off the lift had ultimately revealed a new side to Algiers. Now, Anty could see the meaning behind the city's levels; a symbol of status and position within the city. The luxury of the buildings above reminded him of the various weapons the citizens would carry. He snuck peaks to Lucifer's weapon as they walked, noting it's decoration and trying to recall the rough area he pointed to when speaking of his own home.

Anty had to admit... This system was fascinating. The Family had just used regular barns, tents, and humble wooden housing... But Algiers was far bigger.

A guilty feeling gnawed at his chest as the pair moved through the peace. As a newcomer, Antarias knew that he did not belong. He didn't enjoy to deserve the sunshine and quiet the upper levels provided, and suddenly, Durante's offer of home seemed far more gracious than he'd initially thought.

"Are you sure we're allowed up here?" Antarias inquired nervously, "I haven't done anything to... earn this, and don't you live on a different level?" Perhaps Durante had made some sort of mistake. Or, Ant frowned at himself, I misunderstood him. Of course I did. I'm the Undesirable newcomer here. The shame made him want to return down to the muddy Styx, or at least do something useful. He hoped that clearing up the misunderstanding would be a good start to being useful within the city.

Sweet, soft smells of flowers and fresh air flourished alongside sunshine that highlighted the bright grass and clean stone. Children pattered about, lightening the atmosphere wherever they went, even for the young Antarias who had once been as playful as they were a decade or so ago. Even the prospect of hearing Lucy's childhood stories had intrigued him, despite his heavier thoughts, and he listened keenly only to be caught off guard by a rather direct squeal. A child ran up with the intent to approach, but almost immediately slowed to a stop, displaying a healthy distrust that sternly reminded Anty how out of place he was. Even the children know the newcomers should start at the bottom. "Hi; don't worry, I'll be good." Anty tried to assure the child, his expectations were low, however. In his experience, kids usually needed to haze the newcomers.

Evelyn's arrival surprised Antarias, though he quickly put the pieces together on who she could possibly be. His throat went dry as he watched the pair greet each other, fighting through a creeping feeling of dread that came from having no idea what to expect. Much to his surprise, however, Evelyn approached with an astounding kindness that he hadn't seen coming. He only looked on, amazed into a silence that stretched for a few moments until Anty jerked out of it. "Th-Thank you! It's fine, I don't need anything. I- I won't be any uh- trouble..." The words died easily in his throat.

 

[Nichomedes]

“Allowed?” Lucifer was incredulous, like he hadn’t heard him correctly. What sort of place had Antarias come from that made him so nervous? “So long as we aren’t creating a disturbance, we’re permitted to go just about anywhere. My home is the Mezzanines is simply all I can afford. Furthermore you’re the ambassador’s guest.”

---

“It’s no trouble at all, sweetheart.” Evelyn crossed her hands at her waistline gracefully. “Your room is already prepared, but Andrzej wanted to see you in the library before you get settled in. Seraphiel can take you to him. Sera?”

Seeming to materialize from thin air, a petite young woman stepped into sight from the garden. Her large, green eyes were striking, easily the first thing to notice about her. The second thing was how those eyes were slanted into an unrelenting, bone chilling glare. Her expression was permanently set into a smoldering scowl, as though every person in the entire world had individually committed heinous offenses against her.

Odd thing was that her face was outrageously perfect. Her caramel skin was smooth and flawless, like freshly mixed paint. Seraphiel’s almond shaped face was perfectly framed by a shoulder-length set of dark brown, twisted locks. Add to that she was also finely dressed in a tailed vest and an immaculate silk shirt.

“Antarias, this is Seraphiel, our butler.” Evelyn opened her arm in introduction. The butler remained unimpressed by the new arrivals, seeming to look through them as if they weren’t there. “Sera, would you mind showing Antarias to the library? I need to get Julian washed up for supper.”

Seraphiel’s soul burning glare did not ease up when she nodded to Evelyn to accept her tasking.

“Come,” the butler commanded to Antarias, and then she turned to lead the way without waiting for his compliance.

“You’d better follow,” Lucifer chuckled, apparently privy to some inside joke about the unfriendliness of the Durante butler. “I don’t think she’ll wait. Go on ahead. I’m going to help Evelyn wrangle her son.”

---

Catching up to Seraphiel was not easy; she moved swiftly on her comparatively short legs. Fortunately, the trip to the library was very quick. After crossing the foyer and passing into the east wing of the manor, the butler opened the door into the library and stood dutifully in the hall with her arms crossed behind her back.

She did not interact further with Antarias. No nod, no beckoning, not even eye contact. She simply stood outside the library with the expectation that he would see her and know implicitly to enter on his own. Her twin daggers and wrathful gaze dared him to come near her. She did not react when he did.

The room housing the library was filled with shadows, except for an oil lamp illuminating a halo around a wooden desk where Durante sat. Curtained windows effectively filtered the sunlight, likely in order to protect the precious books inside from damage. Shelves lined every wall, most of them filled to the brim with colorfully spined books of various mismatched sizes. Between the shadows and tall bookshelves along the floor, it was difficult to assess how deep the room actually was.

The front near the entrance at least seemed to serve as a kind of office. Durante had apparently been reading an unfurled scroll, held gingerly in his single hand.

“Ant.” Durante set down the scroll and stood from his chair. Reaching across the desk, he offered his arm for a handshake. It was notable he offered his left hand, but that was all he had. “You made it. And no worse for wear, I see. The city is quite an assault on the senses, is it not? It must be, compared with what you are accustomed to. Please, sit.” He nodded to the chair across the desk.

Durante sank back into his seat. The lamplight painted him in dramatic yellows, and it was so effective it must have been intentional. Seeming to notice his own appearance, he reached over and turned the key in the lamp, decreasing the intensity of its glow.

“I will endeavor to be forthcoming with you, Antarias Ambrosia. And I do ask that you be forthcoming with me.” Anchoring his elbow on the desk, he rested his chin on the back of his hand. “I am going to ask you a very important question. You are welcome to stay regardless of the answer, I am a man of my word, but there is a reason I’ve extended my hospitality. There is something I would very much like to know about you.”

That was it then. Durante could have asked anything back at the infirmary, but he waited until now to ask Antarias about himself. When he was here, alone, in Durante’s library. With the butler at his back and the pleasant Evelyn and Lucifer otherwise occupied.

“Now. What is your relation to the man named Hezch Ambrosia?”