Jack knew he was in trouble as soon as he saw the wanted signs.
It was a cold, misty, rainy day. The flat gray clouds appeared as a solid ceiling of dark fog, hanging so low that the mountains in the distances tabbed through their heavy bellies. It was only at these times that Jack wished he had shoes. The rain turned the rough, pebbly dust of the main roads into a thick, glutinous ooze that slopped between his toes and up his ankles. He longed for a river or a pond to scrub himself clean-well, less dirty, as it were- but it would be a while before he could afford the luxury of stopping. Guards were tenacious things. He was fairly sure he was still in Ira and he wanted to get out as soon as possible.
Up ahead was the outskirts of a good-sized town, not big enough to have Noctis guards patrolling its streets, but not so small that everyone was related and gossip spread like wildfire and everyone's sixths sense went off every time the population strayed from the norm. He'd been to towns like that. He was pretty sure the people of Burgess were still telling their children about the strange white-haired boy ghosting through their village, months after he'd gone there on a false lead from a robber. Jack vowed never to trust the pale-faced, yellow-eyed Toby Tallstick ever again.
The road into town was watched over by two armored men that were obviously soaked and chilled to the bone. Water ran in crystalline rivulets down the gleaming metal plates and dripped down dark blue tunics. Jack felt a flash of sympathy, wishing that everyone could be as resistant to cold as he was. He joined the trickle of people seeking shelter from the storm, nervously tugging his hood lower and dipping his head to avoid eye contact with the sentinels. Couldn't be too careful.
The rickety outskirts became sturdier and more intimidating the farther he ventured into town. Curls of steam and smoke drifted overhead from various chimneys and skylights and cracked-open doors and windows. Everyone soaked in the rain, but also stayed out of its way. Few dared to walk the muddy streets, people with turned-up collars and broad hats that streamed with rainwater. The downpour made the buildings ahead look hazy and blurred. Whenever someone hurried by, Jack planted his staff in the ground like a walking stick or a shepherd's crook, but as soon as they passed, he returned to holding it horizontally like the weapon it was.
After an hour of searching, Jack found what he'd came for: a town notice board, sheltered from the rain with various official-looking documents nailed to the splintery, weathered wood. It stood in the middle of the town square, a lonely little affair with puddles of rippling water dabbing the cobblestone in smears of translucent brown. A large building, sturdier and more impressive than the rest, dominated the left side of the square. It was probably a town meeting hall or some such. A limp Iran flag dangled from the eaves, a coppery dragon with two spears shining dully on a black field, water dripping off of the dark corners. Jack cast a quick glance around to look for unfriendly eyes. Seeing nobody, he stepped up to the board. With a sinking feeling, he found what he'd managed to escape for a long time-a wanted poster. His wanted poster. His likeness had been captured in a few swift strokes, along with a brief description of himself. Jack only knew how to read a little, but from what he could decipher he found out that he was to be captured alive; the reward was a handsome amount. The poster also labeled him as an extremely dangerous mage, but he disregarded that part. It was only because they saw him wind walking. Still, to be wanted alive was a strange feeling. And the poster was from Noctis, not Corona. That's odd. It's Corona that wants the crown back. I've never caused enough trouble in Kosmaria to be wanted by Pitch Black himself.
He shook his head and took down the poster, tossing it into a puddle. The ink smeared across the paper, distorting his face. As an afterthought, he took down Flynn's poster as well, several of which had been up all over the two countries for a while. Flynn was always complaining about the position of his nose in each picture. It was something that Jack loved to needle him about. Looking at Flynn's cocky smile, Jack felt a pang of loneliness. I hope he's still OK. He let the paper float to the street, where it wrinkled and twisted as it grew sodden with water. He tipped his head back and let the rain trickle down his face.
I'm being hunted.
He'd managed to stay out of both Kosmarian and Traum clutches for so long. Now he was wanted and he didn't even know why. What did Pitch Black, the most powerful man in Kosmaria, want with an amnesiac thief off the street? Did it have something to do with his past? What do I do if they catch me? Should I just go with them and see what Pitch wants?
Should I just leave Flynn like that?
The storm of emotions surged inside of him, one part aching for an easy way out, the other stubbornly refusing to leave his friend's side. He brushed the conflict aside for now. I'll worry about it when we get there.
Squaring his shoulders, Jack stepped back out into the pouring rain, heading towards the north end of town and to the shadowy lands beyond.
A/N: I'm not posting a week early, what are you talking about. You're crazy. short chapter is short.
ahahaha. I just wanted to advertise a little bit here, I have the fanfic's regular tumblr (mages-ascendant . tumblr . com) and I just created a new ask blog! ask-mages-ascendant . tumblr . com Please feel free to drop by and ask one of the characters any question you want! (hehe just keep it appropriate and spoiler-free) ^.^
Thank you so much for all of the follows, I promise you won't be disappointed!