Maeve exhaustedly mounted down from the rooftops after hours of running into an alleyway leading back to the imperial square, an exotic multicultural deposit where all sorts of different trades come from around the Realm, caked with mainstays of bucket-arch buildings where many transactions were held. In most cases, the imperial square is every merchant's dream stop. Buyers fill the square on a daily basis looking for luxury items from the Glimwood oak seeds of the Enchanted Forest to the crystal-clear spring water of the Stagallia Mountains. Panting, she had been running for miles, and sweat drained from her skin. While her endurance increased it sure wasn't infinite. Leaning against the wall in the alley, her mouth dried up - parched and dehydrated. She pulled the sweat-soaked pocket watch from her coat and took a desperate glance through the cracks and dirt coating the clock: 11:06 AM. Had she slept over fourteen hours? It didn't matter at this point, she needed water.
Catching her breath, she eased into the imperial square, where an entire portion of it was cut off by the Magistrate military. Crowds were gathering in discourse and shock, spewing slanderous phrases at the soldiers. Some members of the crowd made severely costly travel arrangements to attend today's shopping spree only for their investments to be blocked by some kind of foreign affair or crime scene. Of course the unclosed markets remained insurmountably busy, being the few open for today, using the little space they had to make business with countless unhappy shoppers waiting in a massive line. Using 10 credits she stole from last night, she bought a litre of water only to down it, coughing some of it up as some of it entered her trachea. Refreshed, the girl grew inertly curious about what all the fuss was about. As short as she was, she slipped in between the crowd, trying to see what happened in the middle of the square. Emerging from the sea of bystanders, sneakily peering underneath someone's waist, she beared witness to a bewildering sight. An ash heap of amber, glowing dust in the shape of some kind of unworldly, hulking, demon-like creature lay untouched like a decaying corpse. As they covered the body, so did they rise right into the air through a gaping hole in its chest the size of a basketball. The corpse was being closely monitored by Magistrate specialists and forensics attempting to decipher its ominous meaning, but all Maeve saw was shaking heads and somber looks at themselves.
. . .
"One room for me, please." Tiberius's stomach growled; he was fed up with this wild goose chase. Why would he do the judges' own job? Then again, what do the Magistrate need for another tigron running amok alongside him? They both clearly had their own agendas, physique, style, and fierceness. Debating against himself for 4 hours, checking alley after alley, his kin's known whereabouts fizzed away. Purely instinctual, his intrigue on the capture of the half-tigron girl backed off of a petty and primal temptation. This part of the Realm was alien to Tiberius, and nothing but his insatiable charisma guided his every move after being barborously kicked from his clan through honorable, gladiatorial combat. While hoping to capitalize on the unrest of the district, instead he was by proxy tasked to annihilate one of the most fearsome foes he had ever witnessed. As soon as he redeemed himself in the Trade District, he humbled himself only to immediately return to his innate restlessness, incompleteness, a search for a more unique challenge. Surely, with the capture of this abominus offspring of human and tigron, Tiberius will forever immortalize himself in tales of traditionalism and conquest for the tigron race, but first, he needed a well deserved, heroic and deserved rest.
"I'm sorry, sir? Is it sir?" The attendant nervously asked behind her straight black hair.
"So you are telling me you don't know who I am?" The tigron warrior grinned with pride.
"Do you have a reservation?" She tidied herself up and neatly put her hair back and cleared her throat. "We are quite backed tonight sir. A lot of noble refugees from the Keep's tragic collapse."
"Yes, and the moon rises at twilight," Tiberius budged, leaning in and raising his eyebrow. "You mean to tell me you wouldn't let a hero like me, imbued with purpose, in a room after his most glorious day, cherie?"
The attendant blushed and glanced at her log, her face blank but flattered by his diction. "Wait," she realized, peeking her head up from her desk. " You were the one who…"
Tiberius smiled.
"300." She returned the smile, keys in hand. "Top floor on the left, made just for you. Can't miss it!"
Tiberius grasped the woman's hand for the key. "Adieu, cherie." and he swiped the key and hustled arrogantly up the stairs.
. . .
Maeve threw the rainboots across the empty clearing, faintly hearing their squeaky rubber landing on the ground. She used the money from last night on a sweet new pair of "streetrunners" she nabbed from a nearby shoe store. She gawked at their fit, elegance, and feel, shaking her calf, and held a large pair of clippers. While her hair flowed naturally to her shoulders, curling around her head, it needed to go a little shorter. In an empty clearing far from the imperial square now, she used a broken wasted window as a mirror for the job. She cut her hair to chin length, letting the curls gather naturally in a messy mop-style cut, tying the ends on her right with a neat blue tie, clearing her vision and lessening any if at all distraction it may offer; the look humbled her. She had certainly changed from the guttersnipe in the alley a week prior. The coat changed her life; the risk changed her life; her wacky luck changed her life. Maeve gazed back at the majesty of the Trade District into the clearing at the towering buildings and the vibrant style choices akin to a memory she never had. The biggest building from her was the Magistrate Royal Hotel, its roof from what she recalled sheltering her before her daring heist, now bombarding her wits through its enormous scale, proving how insignificant the little girl actually was, its balconies outstretching the walls advertising its punctually luxurious, expensive outreach. Maeve squinted and bore a confident grin.
"I'm gonna climb that tower."
