Happy belated Christmas/Hanukkah/Nondescript Winter Holiday! If this chapter took a while to come out then, well, there's the reason. Holidays! But now that things are somewhat settling down its back to the grind!
If the title of this chapter coupled with previous ones isn't any indication, this iteration of Name has shifting perspectives. Will it be a constant during the entire story? We'll see! I know the answer, I just like being coy.
Blabbing aside, here we are. Enjoy!
Ambient sounds made for the best alarm clock, Blake had found. Birds were quick to rise, and their melodies stirred the rest of Remnant into action. A pair just outside her tent exchanged harmonious caws, the volume gradually rising with every note. For a time, she allowed it, content to remain in her sleeping roll, eyes closed and focused on nothing but the music.
It was nice. A little bit of natural beauty did wonders to help soothe a troubled mind. One feline ear flicked and twisted as he noticed another song beyond her own personal duet. Another joined in the chorus and before long the forest around her came alive. Amber orbs greeted the world as her eyes fluttered open, blinking blearily as sunlight pierced the green canvas of her tent, small rays splashing warmth across her face. Warm as she was it would have been easy to remain laid down for a while longer, but the world was moving on with or without her and she had much to do.
Blake groaned as she sat up, rolling her neck and lifting her arms overhead. Joints popped, her back cracked, and with a huff she blew bangs from her eyes, brushing them aside when they stubbornly refused to remain in place.
Voices began to join the orchestra outside. Not as harmonious as the birds' songs, people greeted one another gruffly, their words slurred as slumber clung to them like mud to a boot. Despite not wanting to Blake flicked her sleeping roll open and whined as cold, crisp morning air washed over her, prickling her skin with goosebumps and doing a splendid job of spurring her along.
A loose pile of clothing laid together just beside her pillow and she wasted no time in throwing it on; undergarments were comfortable for sleep but terrible for keeping out the cold. Slinging on a pair of well-worn gray trousers she curled her lips in displeasure at the holes dotted throughout. She'd have to replace them before long, though with warmer weather coming perhaps she'd keep them. Finding a strand thread, she clicked her tongue and gave it a tug, pulling and scowling when it created a larger hole.
That's what I get for skimping on clothing. The next town they visited she'd have to get some, especially if these ones were coming undone so easily. So much for saving them.
After turning over her black leather boots and shaking them - it wouldn't do to find a surprise waiting inside, she pulled them onto her feet. Immediately the warm fur lining helped soothe her chilled toes, wiggling the digits appreciatively. With practiced ease she pulled the straps across, sliding them beneath buckles before fastening them in place. Giving her leg a shake, she tapped her heel against the ground for good measure, swiftly placing on the other.
Since they were in camp she could allow herself to dress a little more casually. Forgoing her cloak and scarf, Blake retrieved her doublet and gave it a quick shake before sliding it on. Black as her hair, it was a woefully boring article compared to what she'd seen some wealthy individuals wear. It served its purpose however, and even with the material being thin she enjoyed the immediate warmth having an extra layer on brought.
Combing her fingers through her hair Blake finally rose and stretched once more, groaning as her back popped. Hunched over as not to hit her head on the tent's roof she made her way outside, shielding her eyes as sunlight assailed her. The world turned in an instant, from subdued and murky shadows to vibrant greens, browns, blues and yellows. Many tents not dissimilar to her own were strewn about the area, its inhabitants either still resting or already up and about. She greeted a woman with a small smile, nodding to the man who joined her before they went on their way.
With the camp coming to life it meant the end of the songs that had so gently woken her from her slumber. The faint pattering of wings drew her gaze up and Blake watched as two bluebirds, the very same whose melody had stirred her, took off and disappeared further into the forest. Other birds followed suit and before long the sounds of nature were replaced by the chatter and banter of her peers. Altogether not an unpleasant sound.
Finding a small crowd gathered around a basin Blake waited before washing her face, clearing away any lingering grime and fatigue along with it. Shaking her head and flicking her ears she dried herself off. What was next was food. Not that Blake had planned on eating just yet, but with her stomach mimicking a Beowolf she decided it best to satiate the gnawing. Someone should have fires going already, and assuming it wasn't her turn to hunt - she knew it wasn't, there ought to be food ready.
"Hm… I wonder where the food is." As if the crowd gathered around the center of camp didn't make it obvious enough. Smiling at her own joke Blake joined the other members, patiently waiting as people were served in turn. It wouldn't be much, as it rarely was when they traveled. A simple plate of rabbit meat and berries plucked from nearby bushes made up her breakfast. Paltry and hardly a feast yet it made her mouth water regardless.
Her peers sat anywhere they could find open ground, some in groups, others enjoying their meals in silence. Blake fell into the latter category as she settled herself beneath a low tree. Apple tree if she remembered from the book she'd read. That… And the apples hanging above her head. Blake chuckled and let herself lean into the bark, the thin material doing just enough to mitigate the bark's bite.
The rabbit meat was plain and tasteless, the berries too tart for her liking, but a meal was a meal. She could always eat one of the apples, though judging by how most of them sported more holes than her jeans perhaps not. Worms weren't really her thing.
Camp would soon be cleaned up and they would be on the move again. Always on the move. Traveling from place to place was necessary when no town welcomed you. Living off the land, while not overly difficult, did have drawbacks. Unless they wanted to force themselves upon a settlement, and some members did, they had to make do with what they were given. That meant moving to ensure a constant supply of prey, and to avoid anyone who might not appreciate their presences.
Tart juice flooded Blake's mouth as she threw back a few berries, nose wrinkling. The two foods mixed terribly, and she was tempted to spit it out, yet without knowing when their next meal would come she soldiered through it. An old man sat nearby, rabbit ears folded, and short, grey cropped hair tousled, fresh from bed. One of the ears was missing the tip, an old wound. His wrinkled face lifted, and a deep, joyous laugh erupted as he watched a younger gag on a handful of berries, feline ears flattening and face crumpling to resemble his elder's. He turned and spat out mush, earning a slap from his twin sister.
Their life could be hard, but it was difficult because of their own choosing. There were the joys of celebrating another birthday, the sorrow following loss, and experiences borne of their unique situation that brought them closer together. Despite few of them having actual blood relations they were still a family.
A family that was currently arguing over who was going to get the last few pieces of rabbit. Bless the woman who was serving the rabbit meat, she was doing her best to negotiate with the men bickering before her. One man with biceps as thick as her neck loomed over the other. Bull horns protruded from his forehead and pressed against the scaled man's skull. Were they trying to fight with their heads? Or was it just some dumb man thing? Blake couldn't decide which.
As enjoyable as it might be to watch the pair brawl over what equated to scraps; their day had only just begun, everyone wanted more food, and the prospect of moving always left people disgruntled. Blake flicked the berries from her plate and polished off the last of her rabbit meat. Handing her empty dish to a random man as she walked by her joined the bickering duo at the fire, clearing her throat loudly to get their attention.
"What are you two arguing about…?"
The Toro whipped his head in her direction, blue eyes going from angry to surprised in an instant. He opened his mouth, unintelligible sounds all that came in reply. Blake's eyes rolled before settling on the curved horns upon his head, wondering when in the world he ever cleaned them. Unless brown and green were the natural colors.
"This git's trying to get the last of the rabbit!" Huh… The scaled man's voice was much deeper than the living mountain. Funny how that worked. "I'm still hungry, and the oaf's already gotten more than his share!"
"Who're ya calling an oaf?! And 'course I need to eat more, I'm the guard! You try lugging around armor and weapons all day!"
Not backing down the shorter man scoffed. "So? You volunteered for that!"
"And that means I've got to go hungry?"
"It means don't complain, you giant arse!"
I am so not in the mood for this right now. Blake flicked her wrist and tendrils coiled their way around both men, restraining them just as their fists were raising. Amber trained on them as she held them in place, staring both down until they stopped wriggling. "Finally… It's barely past dawn and you're already arguing?" Sighing, she shook her head before looking at the woman still sat by the fire. "Have you eaten already…?"
"Um… No, I was going to eat once everyone else had."
One leg was shorter than the other, twisted just below the knee. The woman's pale complexion and equally pale hair remained bleached regardless of how much time they spent out in the sun. Bony hands shifted the platter she held and either her hips or the log on which she sat creaked while she moved.
"You two are fighting over the last bit of scraps… And yet she hasn't had any yet?"
The Toro blubbered uselessly as he looked between the elderly Canis and Blake. "I-I… I assumed she'd eaten! A-And there's plenty there for her and I to share, I didn't…"
"She'd insisted we could have it!" protested the Dimuran, his face now every bit as red as the scales adorning it. Purple eyes widened when Blake glared at him, shrinking back.
"You told them they could have it…?" The woman nodded, and Blake felt guilty for how crestfallen she appeared. Rubbing the bridge of her nose she sighed and released her spell. Both men stumbled and rubbed their arms where the tendrils had clutched the firmest. "Opal, you need to eat too…" Her eyes softened watching the elderly woman shake her head.
"I'm quite alright, Blake. I don't eat as much as they do."
"No, but you do much more than they do," Blake pointed out, glaring meaningfully at the Toro and daring him to protest. When he didn't she folded her arms. "Please eat. We'll be leaving before long and it's a shame to let food go to waste. These two have had their fill," she gave both men a stern look. "Right…?"
"Yes ma'am!" they shouted in unison. Did they have to shout? She was three feet away from them at best.
"Good. Then please go help get things ready. Liam, you can gather the other guards and make sure the area is clear. Dunst? Please see if we have enough water for our trip." Missing food was one thing, but they could make do without it if need be. Water was another story and given their nomadic lifestyle there was no telling when they'd find another body of water. Rather, one they could drink from without getting dysentery.
Given a sloppy salute that would make others bark like a Beowolf, Blake simply waved the pair off before returning her attention to Opal. Despite being given permission to do so she'd yet to touch the food, having set aside the plate and refusing to even glance at it, perhaps out of guilt.
"Opal…" Blake placed the food back in the woman's lap and caught her hand when she tried to move it, gently wrapping her fingers around it. "Please eat?"
"Both of them were so hungry though, and goodness knows their jobs are more taxing than mine."
"It's not a competition. Besides, you know the rules, everyone gets their own meal," Blake reminded. That Liam and Dunst had tried to swindle Opal out of hers made punishment deserved. Whether she'd actually implement it was another question. "And if we're going to be traveling then we all need our strength. You included."
A moment passed where the Canis looked ready to feed the meat to the flames rather than herself. Finally, though Opal relented, nodding as she bit into the gamey meat, pale flesh tearing like wet paper in her sharp teeth. Satisfied, Blake smiled and stood back to give the woman space.
"Gods bless you, Blake."
"For what…?" the ravenette asked.
"Taking care of an old woman like me. Not everyone would do what you do." Opal smiled wistfully, grey eyes shining brightly as the morning sun. There were tears in them, though to Blake's relief, they didn't appear to be sorrowful. "We are so fortunate to have you leading us."
She wasn't leading them though, not technically. At best she was a stand-in until they rejoined with the larger group. Everyone respected her authority regardless though she suspected that had more to do with the consequences, not from her, but from other less… Patient types. "It's an honor to be able to lead," Blake answered, scoffing despite herself. "Though I'm reminded of just how many children are in this group…"
Not literal children, though they did have a few of those. Just like family, the group traveled together, slept together, ate and bathed together. And just like any other family they bickered. Constantly. Either someone took a spot another wanted for their tent, or a member might 'borrow' someone else's shirt and never return it. They were petty squabbles yet incessant enough to make them a headache for Blake to deal with.
It will only be too soon once I can step down from this post…
"They mean well, and I can't fault them for being hungry," Opal laughed. The elderly woman turned her rabbit over in her fingers, slick with juices and caked in grease and fat. Blake felt her own stomach growl at the sight, though if the woman heard it she had the grace not to say anything. Perhaps another hunt before setting out wouldn't be such a bad idea. "Oh? Speaking of children…" Opal's voice pulled Blake from her musings. "It seems like a few are looking for you."
A dozen little eyes watched them from behind a tent. Six little heads poked out from the edges, and Blake silently pondered how they weren't all toppling over, leaning like that. "You'll be okay?" Opal waved her along, seeming eager to be rid of her. She knew that wasn't the case, the woman would just be keen to tidy up her workstation.
Eyes went wide, and Blake smiled as excitable, nervous squeaky voices called out to her. As if she wasn't already abundantly aware they were trying to get her attention. When she drew close enough six children rushed out to greet her, none taller than her hip. The group only had a handful of children with them, most had remained with the main contingent, and Blake was grateful for that. Handling people was stressful enough, but children?
"Miss Blake! Miss Blake!" one of the children squealed, an endless ball of energy as they hopped on their feet. "Can you teach us that spell you used?!"
Blake expected the children to ask her to play. Not that tag or hide and seek with children was exactly a challenge. She'd find them within minutes every time, yet they insisted on playing with her. Why? She hadn't a clue. "You want me to teach you a spell…?" Emphatic nods all around.
"Nevermind the fact that some of you can barely walk in a straight line…" Blake's lips curled, and she squat, eye to eye with the children. "But you want to use magic? What's brought this on so suddenly?"
"We saw you wrap up those two! We want to try it!" a young girl chimed, beaming so brightly the sun above should be jealous.
"It looked so cool! You were all whoosh and the shadowy stuff was all wriggle wriggle and… and…"
Shame the little Meera couldn't seem to think of other amazing onomatopoeias. Did 'whoosh' describe shadows? Blake wasn't even certain what noise 'wriggle wriggle' was supposed to be. Looking between the smiling faces she sighed, standing up again and folding her arms. "Okay, though you know you can't simply use magic just because you want to. Magic is complicated."
"Nuh uh! All you did was wave your hand!" A little Kanin hopped in place and clapped her hands. "We can do it too, watch!" She tried, gods know the girl tried. She attempted it with one hand, stretching out and focusing intently on a small rock. When nothing she tried two, and for good measure threw in a shout. Aside from looking adorable, and a bit funny, it accomplished nothing.
"See? It's a lot more than just hand gestures. Most of the time you don't even need that." For some the gestures helped, for others it was simply for show. Blake found movements telegraphed her own spells and tried to limit them whenever possible. Meeting the gazes of her expectant students she smiled, tilting her head and chuckling when mirrored. "Right… Let's start with basics. Where does magic come from?"
Answers came immediately, though not even one was correct. "The moon!" one child shouted, seeming more certain than anything in their life. "Um… Magic flowers?" Not quite, though Blake would give the boy points for creativity. They tried to answer and quickly their responses devolved into silliness. How anyone thought an enchanted pair of trousers was responsible for all the magic on Remnant…
"Magic comes from the gods, children. Not from the moon, or the oceans," Blake's eyes drifted to a cheeky Dimuran boy. "And certainly not from magical pants. It's gifts that the gods give us Magi, and it's a very precious gift." Not to mention not one that everyone had. Were these children all Magi? Potentially, though she wasn't about to test them and potentially crush someone's dreams before they started.
Someone else would do it before long.
"Spells aren't something you can just flick your wrist and conjure up, either. Do you know what spellcasting requires…?" Blake pointed to the nearest child, smiling encouragingly when he seemed hesitant to answer.
"Uh… Do you have to ask the gods for it…?"
"No, but good guess. The gods have little to do with us casting spells." Well, a lot, but that was something else entirely and the children hardly seemed to notice the discrepancy. Blake smiled and held her palm out, leaning forward and motioning for the children to gather around. Black mist pooled into her hand and a thin trail of black grew from her palm, twisting and stretching.
"Spellcasting requires you to understand your own magic, to know how to manipulate it," Blake held out a black rose, smiling as the children took turns passing it among themselves, awestruck.
"Uh, miss Blake…? What's manipulate mean…?"
Right. Kids. Blake smiled and folded her arms, tapping her elbow as her ears flicked in thought. "It means… Think of it like clay. You need to know how to shape magic into what you want it to be. Without you forming it, magic is a lot like a lump of clay. A useless mass of nothing."
Thankfully that analogy seemed to get through to them. Were they going to start playing with clay in hopes of casting spells…?
"Can I make shadowy stuff too?!"
"I want to shoot fireballs!"
"I want to fly!"
Oh gods, she'd created a bunch of little monsters, hadn't she? Blake chuckled and plucked her rose back from the children, waving a hand over it for show. The flower was reduced to black petals which were carried away on the breeze, crumbling and disappearing as they met sunlight. "You need to practice a lot to use spells, children. Understanding how to form them is only half of the process. You need to be strong enough to handle it too."
"But you're tiny, miss Blake!" one girl oh so helpfully declared. Blake's eyebrow twitched, and she stared at the bushy-eyed toddler before smiling.
"Not in the sense that you need muscles. Think of it more like… Conditioning." More blank stares. Anyone a few years older wouldn't have these problems understanding her. Note to self, suggest the children read more. A lot more. Blake scratched one ear before nodding to herself. "You know how when you run a lot, you end up out of breath? Well… If you run more often, you can run longer and longer. That's what conditioning is. It's like building muscle, only… Not."
"Oooooh." Wait, they understood that? That was an awful explanation! Blake had half a mind to try again before giving up on the idea instantly. Why try to fix something that wasn't broken?
A young Dimuran boy clenched his fists at his chest and beamed up at her. "We just need to run around a lot then we can cast spells!?"
Gods help her. Blake shook her head, leaning down and petting the boy when he began to pout. "It's not quite so simple, but you have the right idea. Tell you what… When we get back to the main camp, let's see about getting you children some lessons. It won't be anything serious, you need to understand the fundamentals, but you can get a head start if you think you're ready."
Blake doubted the children were. Magic was difficult to get a handle of even for Magi, and it was harder still to master. Could a toddler perform spells? Potentially. Could the moon also plummet from the sky and collide with Remnant? Both were just as likely.
Disappointed they wouldn't be hurling spells just yet the children hung their heads, only to pep up and bound around Blake enthusiastically. "We're going to be Magi!" they sang, voices shrill and off key. How she missed the delightful duets of the birds. Thankfully, Opal had finished snuffing out the fire and came to collect the children before they could drive her mad. Just make a mental note to suggest training for them. Though… Maybe just books to start.
Distractions aside she could get back to making sure camp was wrapped up in a timely manner. Already several tents had been bound and prepared; a small cart filled with weapons, tools, and medicine and materials alike was ready for transport. Perhaps for being so rude earlier she'd task Liam with pulling it for the first half. Petty? Perhaps, but he was more than up to the task. Or at least he would be after she assigned it to him.
Blake cringed as a crate smashed against the ground, frowning seeing Dust strewn everywhere. A pair of men pointed at each other with no hesitation before devolving into bickering and pushing. "For the love of…"
The sooner they got back to camp the better, otherwise she was liable to cocoon everyone and drag them back herself.
/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/+/
Blake never did mention that the children were interested in training magic. They would be tested for their ability sooner or later whether she pushed for it or not. Everyone was screened and if found capable, trained to 'be of use'. Every Magi was necessary, every asset they could think of.
Her face twisted in scowl, fingers digging into her arms. 'Assets', that's what those children were to everyone. They needed more able Magi, always more, and if a few children wanted to get started early her superiors would be only too happy to ferry them along.
They should be children, not fighters.
Blake pulled a half face mask up and fastened the straps in place. Black as the rest of her attire, a set of vicious fangs painted on the surface. She'd never understood why the standard mask covered the eyes. It hid your identity, yes, but it was also terrible for peripheral vision.
I'm still better off than the others. Fingerless gloves strapped in place, a cloak dark as the evening sky fixed to her shoulders, Blake let her fingertips graze a length of chain fastened to her waist. A warm wind shook her hair and she stubbornly fixed it in place, pulling up her hood for good measure. Pools of pure amber peered out from the brim, the rest of her face either covered by the mask or cloaked in shadow.
Clouds parted overhead, and moonlight illuminated the land around her, forcing Blake to press harder into the side of the building. Her ears flicked as she listened to the movements of guards beyond the wall. Idle chatter and complaints, completely oblivious to her presence. If things went the way she planned it would remain that way. She strained her senses and listened until the sound of boots on the ground faded, and even then, she waited a moment longer. When the only noise she could make out was the sound of her own repressed breath she peeled away from the wall. Inching her way around the corner of the building she held her breath and waited yet again as clouds began to conceal the moon, robbing Remnant of its light. In the time it took for them to part again she raced across the open road, darting into another alleyway.
Fingers gripping steel she pulled herself up a post, pressing her foot into a wall and surging further up. In scaling the wall Blake managed to get herself onto the roof of a shop, testing the strength of the sloped wood before silently padding across it.
Most people never looked higher than a forty-five-degree angle. Unless one of the guards randomly decided to stargaze, she'd remain well out of their view. From her newfound perch Blake crouched and surveyed the area, silently cursing herself for not scouting out earlier in the day.
Going into towns during the morning wasn't impossible, though it brought a slew of challenges with it. First and foremost was the risk that someone might recognize her, rendering any reconnaissance impossible. If she wasn't recognized by name or reputation, then often times her race was enough reason to shun her. Concealing her feline ears wasn't easy, not unless she wanted to subject herself to discomfort for hours on end. Someone had suggested once tying them into a bow as a means of hiding them. What a stupid idea, as if that would fool anyone.
In a no-name, backwater town she could have wandered in with little cause for concern. Galloway though? Galloway was a large port town, more a city really, and held too many chances for her to be discovered. And so, she'd bided her time, surveyed the city from afar and waited for the cover of night. It was safer, and with her night vision she wasn't hindered in the way Murans or other races might be.
Safer, but she still needed to learn the layout on the fly.
If memory served then her target would be in the center of the city, away from common rabble and disgruntled citizens. Nobility sure liked to hide themselves away behind their wealth. From where Blake sat she could just make out where the residential ward became commercialized, taller buildings with a multitude of banners fluttering in the wind. More telling were the lights that illuminated a city otherwise cloaked in darkness. It was said Galloway never slept, and that was partially true. The man who owned the herbalist's shop below her was most certainly out.
Silent as can be Blake jumped from building to building, the cloth wrapped around her boots doing wonders to muffle sounds. She paused every so often and would listen for the guards below, or the occasional drunkard stumbling through the streets. They were of no consequence and come morning they would carry on without ever knowing she was here.
Rather, they would know someone had been here, and perhaps suspect her. Blake smiled ruefully as she peered over a low wall and watched a pair of guards' playful jaunt, pushing at each other and laughing loudly. Some would suspect it was her, which was fine. They could suspect all they wanted. They'd never catch her.
Finding a gap too expansive to simply leap across Blake paused and moved along the edge of the rooftop. A lovely stretch of shadow stretched from behind a chimney, permanent even as the moon's light threatened to swallow darkness itself. Concealing herself in the dusk she splayed her hand out against the roof and funneled magic into the void, marking the spot with a simple brand: a circular seal with an 'x' cut through the middle. It wasn't runic and she'd no need for anything quite so complex.
Separated by a canal and several dozen feet was the mercantile ward, and just beyond that, the nobles ward. The streets below were well lit and heavily traveled as townsfolk and visitors alike took part in Galloway's nightlife. A cacophony of voices mixed with disjointed musical numbers, each loud and vying for supremacy. No one cared that she was there in the moment. Not a single person cared about what she was there for.
Or perhaps they did, though if anyone cared then it would be purely for selfish reasons. Blake felt anger bubbling in her breast and allowed a scowl to form behind her face mask. Crowds of people, Murans and Ydrans with hardly a care in the world gathered below. Their only concerns? Buying the latest fashion, or a warm meal, or perhaps less scrupulously, finding someone to take back to their inn room for the night.
A malcontent rumble rose from her chest and she forced herself to tear her eyes from the ignominious gathering below. They were people who cared nothing for the strife of others, only themselves. Selfish. Self-absorbed. They were part of the problem with Remnant.
Forming a dart of purest black in her palm she twirled it around her fingers, shifting into a low squat and taking aim. Straight as an arrow she hurled her projectile across the gap with ease. Solid as a stone it struck the roof, and with a silent will on her part it fell apart, shadow etching itself into the cobbled roof, forming a mark similar to the one beneath her. The hard part was done, now for the easy part.
Shadow was the absence of light, so it had always struck Blake as curious, even now, that her spells had a slight glow to them. Nothing quite so luminous as to give her away, yet there was a decipherable tinge that came from her spells. A "lighter shadow" if such a thing existed. Her fingers traced the edge of the brand, rising and falling along with the uneven surface of the roof. Releasing her magic, shadow rose up and enveloped her.
Moonlight vanished. Voices and music became muffled then faded altogether. The warm, moist air coming in off the ocean disappeared and a stagnant, stale air replaced it. Despite being thrown into utter nothingness Blake could still see, standing and gazing around the complete dark. There was no solid ground beneath her and yet she could walk, her boots soundlessly striking a surface that was neither there nor tangible.
She'd long since stopped trying to understand every nuance of her magic. Sometimes magic simply was and trying to decipher its nature only led to circular, frustrating bouts. Spotting her exit, a small pool of light, she traipsed through the void and gazed through the porthole to the outside world. The night sky greeted her, what little light shining through disappearing as clouds concealed the moon's glow once more.
A perfect opportunity to emerge. Reaching into the small gap she felt herself being pulled suddenly, like she'd been plunged off the edge of a cliff. Air rushed against her face and her eyes closed reflexively as Remnant became salient once more.
Music returned with painful intensity, the plucking of a stringed instrument grating against Blake's ears. Though the air was not so hot it felt like she'd stepped before a blast furnace, the return of any heat scorching. Gravity took hold and she crouched against the roof, giving her senses time to readjust. Through her mask she could just taste the saltwater on the air, and the scents of nearby stalls with food aplenty filled her nostrils. Fish of all manner were on display and her stomach rumbled in protest at its vacancy.
Later. Not only was eating on the job irresponsible but she'd blow her cover, and for what? A quick bite? Turning her nose up at the salivating aromas Blake cut across the rooftop, grateful for stone that absorbed any sound she'd make. Judging by the open pit outside and the obvious black smoke rising from a nearby stack she'd landed on a smithy; a blacksmith's home built of wood was too risky for obvious reasons.
Buildings bland as could be sprouted up like weeds around her, the only discriminating detail that put them apart from homes? Garish banners of green, white, red and yellow, each hanging from the front of shops to call attention to their existence. It seemed to work if the crowds below were any indication. Blake wondered if she could create a stir, a fleeting thought that she dismissed almost as quickly as it aroused. As interesting as it might be to see people panic - entertaining even, it would make her job unnecessarily more difficult.
So, she continued on. From the blacksmith's she jumped and scurried across the roof of a tavern, then dashed over the top of a weaver's shop. Between the loud music and incessant blathering of the masses any sound she might make was drowned out. So long as she kept to the shadows no one would be any wiser to her presence.
Crowds grew thinner as shops became more affluent. Simple brick and stone stores gave rise to multiple-story buildings with trim, stained windows and neatly trimmed planters. Music was a distant, muffled reminder of the busier sections of the ward and small crowds gathered around a handful of shops. People dressed in expensive silks, dyed cloth and another material Blake didn't know wandered aimlessly. They were posh, which was a nicer way of saying they all had sticks up their rears. Even the air smelled different here, like it was cleaner than that below it.
Much of Galloway was at sea-level. As the city stretched inland however the ground rose up and affluence seemed to go along with it. Expensive shops meant few people had reason to travel inland, and fewer still could afford to. Blake slid down a gutter and landed noiselessly between two stores, padding along to the street. Lanterns burned brightly and lined the roads here rendering any use of shadows obsolete and forced her to keep back, well out of any wandering eyes.
If those below were simply ignorant to Remnant's problems, then the crowds here were compliant with them. Hoarding wealth and caring little for anything else they lived their lives with heads in the clouds, bellies full and willful of the abuses that carried on. Each and every one of them deserved to be punished. She was not so naive to believe she could single-handedly dole out justice. It would come, someday, though not by her own hand. Regretful.
Darkness swallowed her up again as she used the alleyways as a vehicle. Shops became sparser and homes began to take their place. She assumed they were homes because they had yards, and any store having wrought iron fencing around it seemed excessive. Then again, she'd been to plenty of towns where shops were broken into regularly, so perhaps it wasn't so outlandish. No store would have manicured lawns though, or gilded paneling and windows so polished they were more like a mirror.
Luckily most nobles were either preoccupied with shopping or holed up in their abodes. Blake kept to the shadows regardless. Complacency meant being discovered and being discovered inevitably meant a fight with guards. Or worse still, a Hunter. Being compromised and failing her task wasn't an option, and so if she must take a little longer to reach her goal, so be it.
It was disappointing how easy it was to find the target's house. The wealthy strutted their fortunes like the pigs they were and seemed to try and outdo each other with what they purchased. Always a larger home, more expensive clothes, food that cost a fortune per plate. It was sickening how much people obsessed over their money, as if Lien was the most important thing in the world.
To find a home that stood out among nobility wasn't surprising then, given their flamboyant nature. A three-story building stood at the crest of Galloway's noble ward, twice as wide as any other home and with an extra floor for good measure. Why? Because it looked better to one's friends, Blake ventured.
She stopped a block away and crouched behind a squared shrub, peering over the edge at her target. Guards stood outside the main gate, four in total. They were tired, their posture slouched and a head occasionally bobbing. Tired, but armed, and Blake had little intention of testing the sharpness of their spears. Not that she had expected to use the main entrance, but that option was clearly out. After making certain she wasn't being watched she darted across the street, keeping low and circling around. A tall fence enclosed the home and trimmed shrubbery lined it, perhaps in an effort to make it seem less a prison. Blake found a lapse in the guards along the western edge and made her approach, ducking out of view as a window opened up above.
Tentative, she peered through the bars of the fence to see a servant dumping water out of the window. An easy in if she'd ever seen one. The window closed, and she counted her blessings that the man failed to latch it shut. After checking for patrols, she grabbed the fence and gave two rungs a pull, testing its strength. Satisfied it could support her weight she scaled it with ease, clambering up the iron bars and vaulting herself over the peaked caps.
On the other side of the fence she carelessly stomped over a garden bed, crushing tulips and smearing broad-leaved hydrangeas with dirt. If guards found the prints in the morning so be it, they'd hardly track her from a boot print. Blake allowed herself a moment to pause and dug the toe of her boot into the soft soil, smirking as she uprooted a freshly planted sapling. It was petty, but gods if it didn't give her some slight satisfaction.
Now, how to go about reaching the window?
The answer came with a gentle clink at her hip. Blake smiled and unlatched a leather strap, pulling her weapon from her belt. Would it be long enough? Just barely, though she could always scale the wall and get extra height. As for where to actually hook into? That conveniently placed planter just below the window seemed perfect. Hopefully it could support her weight.
Twirling her weapon as she backed up Blake eyed the planter, making an estimate of distance. She could reach it… Probably. Glancing at her kusarigama, polished blade catching light from the windows and flashing intermittently, she nodded to herself and took a breath before hurling it upwards. Cresting in a beautiful arc she smiled when the curved blade hooked into the planter, snagging on it and holding firm when she gave it a tug. Satisfied that it was in place she moved back to the wall, testing the support by hanging on it briefly. When dirt didn't come raining down on her head she deemed it safe.
Shadow-walking would have been faster, but also completely blind. It was one thing to use her magic to slip between rooftops and another to enter a room. Scaling a wall was old fashioned and time consuming but at least she could see what she might be getting into. Slowly she made her way up, pulling the chain up behind her as she went. When her fingertips grazed the window she freed her weapon, dug her toes into the house and lifted herself up. In one deft motion she flicked open the window and pulled herself inside.
An empty bathroom greeted her. Porcelain sinks and a bath lay opposite, the latter still shimmering and damp, the candles over it casting dancing shadows. Wet footprints trailed along the tiled floor and led out of the room. Speaking of footprints…
She'd tracked dirt into the bathroom from the garden. Clicking her tongue, she looked around and found a pile of towels, using one to clean both her boots and the floor where she'd entered. With nowhere else to put it she tossed the towel into the bushes below, closing the window again. No sense in tipping someone off too soon.
Moving for the door her hand gripped the knob and froze, ears straining inside her hood. Footsteps were approaching and a pair of soft voices with them. Should she lock the door? No, that would be too obvious, and where would she go after? Hide in the shadows? Possible, but she should conserve her energy for later. Scanning the room as she felt her breath quicken Blake spot a closet and darted over to it, sliding open the ribbed door and slipping inside. Robes, too many for any one person, lined the interior. Ugly yellow material brushed up against her, smelling overwhelmingly of lavender. The entire room did, actually, now that she realized it. Gross.
The door opened, and two young women entered. Through the cracks Blake could make out one carrying a fresh stack of towels, the other a small box. She decided whatever was inside it was insignificant and paid it no mind. While the towel-bringer went about, what else, replacing towels, the other girl made busy by replacing soaps from the box. See? Insignificant.
"I don't reckon he'd want different scented soap…?"
"Has he ever asked for different soap?" the towel girl derided.
"Well, no, but… How doesn't he get sick of the smell? The entire manor is coated in it!"
"Probably to mask his body odor."
Shame the soap-girl was too busy working to hear the remark, but it was enough to get a quiet huff of amusement out of Blake. The duo prattled on a bit longer before departing, thankfully neither having any need to inspect the closet. Blake remained hidden a bit longer before finally releasing a breath she'd been holding, slowly opening the door. The creak of the hinges painfully loud, or maybe it was just her hypervigilance making them so.
Peeling the door open she peered into the hallway and checked for signs of servants, or anyone really. Plush carpet covered the floors, bleached-white wooden trim trailing along the walls and ceiling. The walls were striking blue, like that of a robin's egg, and hanging lanterns basked the long corridor in a gentle warmth. Somewhere in the manor was her target. She'd have to go and search then. Given the hour she'd assume either eating supper or in bed. Not that she knew where a dining room or bedroom might be, but at least that narrowed down her search somewhat.
I could always ask… Blake joked to herself before rolling her eyes. Sure, stroll up to the first person she saw and ask to speak to their boss. That would go well. Perhaps… Convincing a servant to speak wouldn't be so bad. It would save her time certainly and reduce the risk of wandering into guards.
Either way she had to get a move on. The night might be young, but it wouldn't last forever and the moment anyone caught wind of her trespassing her job would become infinitely more difficult. She'd need to be swift. And perhaps just a little bit lucky.
Luckier than whomever she decided to question, that was for sure.
Slightly shorter than Weiss and Ruby's introduction, or Yang's for that matter. Blake's is going to take a bit to play out - that is to say, unless I wanted to make this chapter like 15000 words.
And no, this does not mean that Blake is the feature of next chapter. Until the story reaches a point where multiple perspectives aren't necessary, the pattern will always be as follows:
Weiss (and Ruby, usually) Yang Blake
Why am I doing it this way? I can world-build in different ways while also offering some of the girls' own stories. Plus its just an excuse to do some fun stuff they might not get to later on.