Capital

  Whoever draws the Sword of Light will lose their life. Try to draw a sword - 1 gold. - The tablet at the Sword of Light.

  The clerk was a small man with oversized glasses and unkempt grey hair that encircled his skull. He sat in a cabinet in his house by the city gate. The cabinet was piled high with parchments and scrolls that served as both table and chair.

  "Name?" the scribe shouted over the chatter of children of all ages running around.

  Their breeze held up individual pieces of parchment. Gloomy doubted there was any point in registering if a completed form was going to be placed under the ass or tossed around by children. But rules are rules.

  "Gloomeye."

  The clerk dutifully wrote the name on the parchment:

  "Occupation?"

  "A shepherd, though you might call me a nanny."

  The clerk looked at him over his glasses and smiled:

  "So I can call you a colleague?"

  "I've never had so many charges," Gloomeye said, but suddenly remembered the imbalance of men and women in the city: "Are these your children? Are you forced..."

  "Oh, no, what a rich imagination you have, young sir," the clerk replied. "I register all residents. And when little orphans are brought to me, I can't put them out on the streets. But we digress. Spouse?

  ***

  Once all the bureaucracy was out of the way, Sewer suggested finding a tavern, and the suggestion was met with great enthusiasm by everyone.

  The city seemed to be the creation of giants. Gloomeye had no other explanation for how humans could have built such magnificent structures. Huge white columns, giant statues of men and women, multi-storey stone houses - it all made an indelible impression.

  Everything was covered in mud, some crumbled, some completely destroyed, the city was full of smoke from street fires and suspicious smells, but still impressive in its grandeur.

  The ground was covered with small polished stones, but there were holes here and there. The inhabitants grew strange spiral plants and mushrooms in these pits. They also bred some kind of spiky animals with eight very long and thin legs, crawling slimy lumps and boarlers. Gloomy even wanted to pet them, but decided to keep up with the others.

  There weren't many passers-by for such a big city, but what did Gloomeye know about cities? People were going about their business, some working with cloth and clay. The procession passed a kind of bazaar where people sold things straight from the ground. Rexana made no mistake: most of the residents were women. Many looked back at the villagers, or rather the new city dwellers. Merchant took Wolves' arm, something she had never done before.

  The city consisted of one large, wide street (not counting the many alleys between the houses) leading up to a hill where a huge building could be seen. Splinter poked Gloomy in the side:

  "We need to take a closer look at the palace."

  "Why?" Gloomeye didn't understand.

  "Do you see palaces every day?" Splinter asked. "I didn't notice, come to think of it, anything at your home."

  "They brought you there in a cage," the guy muttered, straightening his trousers. "Here. Make yourself a caustic answer. You're such a causticity expert."

  Splinter began to think seriously about the answer: "How about: 'Even though my home was a pile of dirt, at least I had a home. Or: 'Your home is a cage, so shut your stinking mouth, you trapped scum.'"

  "Hey, I'm not that kind of bastard!" Gloomeye said indignantly.

  "Like me, huh?" Splinter didn't give him a chance to answer, and walked over to a sword the company had just passed. The sword was stuck in the ground in the middle of the street, and solidified stone waves and cracks were coming out of it.

  "Whoever draws the Sword of Light will lose their life. Try to draw a sword - 1 gold," the girl read the sign next to the sword. Gloomy noticed that she could read. Or maybe she's just making it up. Too bad it can't be verified.

  "And why take it out?" Shroomer asked.

  "No need, that's why it wasn't pulled out," Wolves replied. "Come on, I think I've found a big enough tavern," he waved his hand in its direction.

  The tavern was a large room with long stone tables and benches (some even outside), and there were many people inside, who fell silent at the sight of the crowd entering, but soon resumed their conversations. The room was dim, thick with smoke, and smelled pleasantly of something fried. On one of the benches, Gloomy noticed an alm with a human body kit, dressed, but with an elongated snout and the size of Giggler. The funny creature sat with its legs dangling in the air, drinking from a cup made of planks tied together with metal hoops.

  Wolves sat against the wall, half-crawling out of his seat with his hands on his head. Storyteller and Giggler were arguing about something. Merchant and Moose were laughing at something of their own. Rasca and Master were discussing other customers. Gloomy thought that none of the stories he'd heard had characters travelling with their families; Storyteller always gets rid of the main character's parents at the first opportunity. Perhaps this reflects his personal problems.

  A red-haired young man in an apron approached them and asked:

  "How can an ordinary owner of a simple tavern help you?"

  "All the best food! I'll pay. And alcohol!" Wolves announced. "This is real life! We should have come to Capital long ago," he said to his people.

  "Oh, that reminds me of a story... Well, better not tell it..." the ordinary owner of a simple tavern smiled enigmatically and left to fulfil the order.

  When he brought back the food, Shroomer asked him about the Sword of Light.

  "Perhaps, I have only heard rumours, that before the Break there was a great and terrific hero who carried this sword... This sword was cursed, like all famous swords... The hero could part with his sword and armour right here... Anyway, that's what people told me, believe it if you want," the redhead finished pointedly.

  "And the prophecy?" Beard asked.

  "Who knows these prophecies? It could be a warning... Only the person who wrote those words knows..." the innkeeper slowly backed away from the table.

  "Does anyone find this man very suspicious? No? Just me?" but no one replied to Shroomer as everyone began to eat.

  Gloomeye was given meat cut into squares and covered with plants and some kind of white sticky substance, as well as delicious water, which he liked even though it was bitter. When he was full, he began to listen to other people's conversations.

  "...The Sky-Eyed Emperor is invading the South. This will obviously displease Dominica the Invader. We've had 15 winters without major wars, that's enough," said the guard at the counter.

  Someone asked her something, and she replied:

  "Southerners have dark eyes. Your eyes are more green. Although I do not know what colour the sky is in the South, perhaps it is the same colour".

  "...Wil has put on another drunken show."

  "...Do you think the slavers will return?"

  Then Gloomeye heard a familiar word.

  "The Mourneers have gathered so many people, a real army. It is clear as a rake that to go to the Court of Madness, where else? The last remaining Court that practises magic, what an irony."

  "Yes. The Court of Madness, indeed," said the other.

  "But I don't think the Mourneers will succeed. That Court, I've heard, has a huge monster the size of a city."

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  "Come on, everyone knows how rumours work. All before you have increased its size. Or a town of three huts. Now there are no real cities except our Capital."

  Gloomeye saw Splinter's hand shake with the cup. She set it down on the table, spilling half the drink. Was she listening to this conversation too?

  "What?" he asked her with only his eyes. She shook her head and began to wipe the spilled liquid onto the floor with her palm.

  "Tell you what," Wolves said to the crowd. "I think we'll stay in city for a while. It will not be superfluous to support our common fund with money. So everyone should find a source of income."

  "Speaking of money?" the innkeeper appeared before them, grinning broadly.

  "Is that enough?" Wolves asked languidly as he pulled out a gold coin.

  "It's enough for one meal, but not for all of them, of course," the red-haired man replied with the same broad smile, but with the edges already slipping off.

  "But it's gold!" Wolves said in childish amazement, but then immediately pulled himself together.

  "Don't you know? We have a lot of gold. After the Break, mounts of gold appeared, right on the surface, the size of my tavern. Some oddball must have decided to get rich at a time when the world was breaking. This is called ‘de-va-lua-tion’. What we really need is metal money, because it can be melted down to make useful things.”

  "How about a discount for the saviours of the city?" Wolves asked without much hope.

  "Saviours of the city? How about saving a mountain of dishes from the dirt in my kitchen?" the tavern keeper's smile faded completely.

  "Ha! I've already found a job. See how easy it is? You go and find us a better place to live," said the non-chief with false cheerfulness.

  The choice fell on a multi-storey building nearby. Inside, the building was made of white stone, with columns smaller than those on the street. On the first floor there were many rooms with square recesses in the floor and many metal pipes. In the walls were coloured stones that formed pictures: a bird with the head of a woman, or people whose legs were trunks ending in two petals.

  Gloomeye enjoyed looking at these pictures. Did humans create such things? So much work - just for beauty? I suppose it's like the stories of Storyteller, only set in stone.

  It was possible to reach the top by means of well-hewn stones of equal length, so-called steps. Gloomy chose a room for himself and lay down on a flat, padded contraption. It is not known what it was really for, but now it will be his sleeping place. A cloud of dust rose into the air when he touched it.

  Gloomeye tried to make sense of what was happening, but was distracted by Giggler, who came in and said that his father was going to pass on all his storytelling skills to him. Although Giggle didn't say it outright, it meant that Gloomy didn't have to look after the boy.

  Then Earlier went in, or rather fell in, with his head stuck in the extended end of a broken pipe. Gloomeye helped him get it out. Then Mom, who was scouting the area. Then Merchant, who did the same thing, but from a different direction. Crushy came in, but when she saw Gloomy, she turned and left. Rustle crept past the door without saying anything. He liked to sneak around and keep quiet.

  Splinter was the last to appear. She must have been bored and found an excellent subject to train her venomous wit. Or she was preparing a report for the Mourneers. I should talk to her about it, but I haven't got a reason yet. And she obviously had a bunch of jokes in mind for the answer.

  The next day Gloomeye went to the boarlers, but a boarlerherd with fused eyebrows told him rudely that his services as a shepherd were not required. Then Gloomy thought for a moment and went to see the clerk. Decimus, as he was called, poured the guy some fragrant liquid, but also said that his services were not required, as the older children look after the younger ones.

  On his way home, Gloomy sensed someone familiar in the crowd, which was very strange as he hardly knew any other people apart from Worldedge. Except for an occasional vagabond who sometimes became part of the village. But then his trousers slipped down again, and when he looked back at the crowd, the feeling was gone.

  Splinter met him at the house:

  "Hero, let's go to the palace quickly. Let's see how rooms need to be designed. Yes, now. You still have nothing to do but your pants. Pull them up as much as you like on the go," the girl pulled Gloomeye by the hand in the direction of the palace.

  She was right, so the guy followed her. He tied a knot in the side of his trousers to hold them up, but that was only a temporary solution. So he looked for a rope to make a belt. But instead of rope, he found Shroomer arguing with someone at a mushroom pit. Sewer was studying a sewing machine next to some woman. He also found pictures of birds with human heads on the walls and pavement. Someone, apparently much later than the creation of the pictures themselves, had drawn pentagons over the strange bird alms. Or strange people? Gloomy had never heard of alms with human parts.

  "Do you think they're bird people or human alms?" he asked his companion who was dragging him resolutely.

  "Did you grow up in a hole? Oh yes, that's right! There. It is the guide of mankind, an ancient religious symbol of the longing for paradise. The bird of paradise, in other words. They're drawing to her the Star of Hope, I'll leave you to figure out what that means.”

  "Wow, you have some knowledge for a human who spends all her mind power inventing indirect insults. Isn't it offensive to call you a human? Do you consider yourself a human-sized stingback?

  "Not bad," Splinter nodded approvingly. "But you're still indecisive - you leave yourself a path of retreat, turning an insult into a question. So you're still a small stingback larva."

  So, exchanging barbs, they arrived at their destination. The palace was much larger than Gloomeye had imagined from a distance. Huge pillars rose high into the air, with red cloth awnings flapping in the wind between them. The wind carried red velvetling seeds that floated slowly through the air.

  At the entrance, which a lethargic could easily enter, balancing a middleshroom on his head and even jumping up, there were white cloths with the same symbols as on the guards' loincloths.

  The guards guarding the entrance said nothing to the newcomers. They were trying to cope with the heat brought by the wind. The interior of the palace looked like a new Gloomy's home, only much larger in every direction. Statues of bald men wrapped in rags, their heads bowed, lined the walls of long corridors.

  Splinter moved forward decisively.

  "Are we looking for something in particular?" Gloomeye tried to understand what was going on.

  "No, why should we? But if you see the inner garden, we'll go there."

  Splinter found the garden quite quickly. It was a room without a ceiling or floor, with walls that reached to the waist, with artistically carved holes in them. Could it be called a room? There were colourful plants, unknown to Gloomeye, and people.

  "Were you expecting visitors, young lady?" a man stepped forward.

  He wore an odd stand-up hat with gold designs embroidered on the sides. Under the hat, he had slicked back, medium-length black hair and pointed sideburns. For some reason, the man had shaved in the small beard the X symbol, which reached to his eyebrows. He had round grey eyes, a long nose and slightly full cheeks. He wore a burgundy suit with four buttons on the chest and a long, hanging hem divided into two parts. Many chains hung from the silver epaulettes, some of which were attached to his right breast. A white shirt with lace cuffs peeked out from under the sleeves and neck, which was also decorated with a precious brooch. Black pants reached up to a slightly rounded belly, and leather shoes ended with upturned toes.

  The man's name was Wil, and he worked as a majordomo in the palace, but not always. Before the Break, he was just a janitor. He survived the crash in a drunken dream in the cellar of his house.

  Wil was a pragmatist, lazy and selfish. He often stole from the palace and spent the money on alcohol and gambling in taverns. But there was one good thing about him - his love for pega, whom he had won in the "Emperor-Subject-Slave-on-Dice" game, which didn't happen often. Pega's name was Grassy, and she was grey with a white "sock". Grassy loved her new owner, even though he didn't ride her.

  He was followed by a blonde girl who looked like Gloomeye by her eyes and Rexana by her fancy dress:

  "No. Maybe they're just looking around the palace," she said, glancing over the visitors and losing interest in them.

  Suddenly, the well-dressed man fell on his butt, his eyes wide with horror. He pointed behind Gloomy, and the stranger girl glanced in that direction, also startled.

  Splinter screamed:

  "It's a ghost! Hero, you know how to fight ghosts! Save us!"

  Gloomeye turned around and saw a ghost that looked like the one that reported to the head of the Mourneers. Only this ghost had removed the mask, revealing an ordinary face with strong cheekbones and a forehead, but transparent. He stood waist-deep in the ground and pointed a transparent dagger at the palace girl.

  Gloomy backed away and bumped into Splinter. She shoved him towards the ghost and screamed:

  "This is no time to be modest, hero! Only you can save our souls!"

  Gloomeye finally got his bearings. He resolutely walked up to the ghost and tried to dispel his head with the hand, like smoke. The cursor sank slowly into the ground, either because it worked, or out of shame for the guy.

  "He's gone?" the palace girl asked, standing right behind Gloomy, looking anxiously at the ground where the failed transparent dagger thrower had fallen. "I mean, forever?"

  "Oh, yes, that spectral scoundrel won't be bothering you for a long time, if not forever," Splinter continued to speak in her panic-solemn voice. "Gloomeye gave him a good thrashing. He knows how to deal with these types, enough to last him his unnaturally nasty eternal life.

  "Ah, I know who you are. From the group that chased the slavers away. And you were right there when it happened? There was an army of them!" the girl said admiringly.

  Gloomy was surprised that the girl wasn't ignoring him or being sarcastic, but admiring him.

  "Yes, I took this little suit from their chief," he said, pulling the fabric at his chest as if to show the reality of his suit. It was a mistake, because when it returned, it retaliated by pulling Gloomeye's trousers down. Fortunately, the upper part of the suit was long enough to prevent him from being mentally damaged for the rest of his life.

  The girl giggled and turned away, unlike Splinter, who opened her mouth and pursed her lips to keep from laughing out loud.

  "I can see that you're much slimmer than the previous owner. My name is Dara, I'm Rexana's daughter.”

  "I'm Gloomeye," the guy said. He had pulled his pants back on and was now clutching them tightly with both hands, as if in punishment.

  "My name is Splinter," Splinter said.

  "Yes, yes..." Dara waved her away. "We haven't fully decided on our form of rule yet, so my status is uncertain."

  "The ruler's daughter is a princess. That's the villainess," the guy remembered his conversation with Giggler for some reason. Stop thinking nonsense, or you might say it out loud!

  "You saved my life, and I owe you a reward," Dara continued. "I'll certainly think of something. Now, would you like a tour of the palace? You can even take your maid with you."

  "She's not my servant," Gloomeye tried to explain.

  "Believe me, it's better if I don't know your girl's status," Dara assured him.

  "Yes, you have spoiled me too much, master," Splinter said with feigned indignation and returned to her normal self.

  Gloomy suddenly realised that he was standing next to the girl and that she wasn't a Splinter. He immediately broke out into a sweat.

  "Yes, princess," said Gloomeye.

  "A princess?" Dara giggled again. She seemed to like giggling. "Is that what you think of me? I like it."

  "Ah, Princess! Not Splinter, not Stinker, not Bag-of-Crap. Princess," Splinter said.

  "Is this your lost-in-development sister you've been forced to look after? I don't see any other reason to put up with her," Princess said irritably. "You'd better come with me," she said in a different voice, pulling the Gloomeye's arm, "and I'll tell you all about this place."

  Perhaps the most difficult part is creating a new world from scratch. Later, it will be easier to build any new information on top of a ready-made foundation, knowing the laws of the world. Right now, writing a story and creating a world at the same time is like following the road you're building.

  Why a detailed description of Wil, with his biography and description of his pega, followed by a minimalist description of Dara, who is a more important character for the plot? A joking reference to the prose of Robert Jordan.

  Some people might think I'm doing a love triangle, but I'd like to remind you that Gloomeye and Splinter had exactly zero romantic thoughts. Why did you even think a romantic relationship was possible between them? Besides, I think Dara is the best match for the guy, and the dowry is excellent. What should I call the pairing? GloDa? DaGloo? Better than GlooSpl (word play lost).