The room was small, barely ventilated, and poorly lit. Lukas’ Animus and a small candle were the only things giving any sort of illumination. Sweat and the stuffy stench of the late afternoon clung to the space but the boy was long used to it.

Cradled in his hands was a small jade cylinder. He was completely focused on it, transferring his Animus into the vessel; even so, some lumens were wasted in the transfer. For every one that fizzled away in the dark room, Lukas cursed softly. Each lumen was worth a copper penny and he needed as much as he could get.

When he was near depletion, he stopped. Sweat dripped down his face as if he had run a full sprint. It stung his eyes, dripped from the tip of his nose, and down his hairless chin. He used his dirty sleeve to wipe them off, succeeding only in smearing more dirt onto his face.

Lukas got up and staggered out of the gathering chamber into a well-lit hallway. The soft glow of Animus-powered light on the ceiling dazzled his eyes for a moment. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for them to adjust. A few moments later, he continued down the hall into another chamber that was full of people like him, lined up behind a counter where a couple of comely women processed their fees.

Lukas stood at the back of line behind a tired elderly man who glanced back at him warily. Lukas tipped his hat, a brown flat cap that kept his untidy curls out of sight and gave a small smile in response. The man’s hostility was replaced by indifference as he turned his attention to the front of the line.

Each man or woman was processed quickly, half a minute at most, and in less than five minutes, Lukas found himself at the counter. He handed over the jade cartridge, while the surveyor gave him a cursory glance and a professional smile that twitched when she caught a whiff of his stale sweat. Lukas smiled apologetically and shrugged.

The woman, Mari Crowley, took the jade cartridge and slotted it into a cube beside her. It beeped after a few seconds, coming up with a number.

Ten. Lukas sighed. He’d hoped for more, but it turned out that his judgement had been spot on. Mari, just like she had done for the past hours, placed a small pile of copper pennies on the counter, which Lukas swiped off quickly.

He clutched the coins in one hand while the other fished out a small leather pouch hanging off a string around his neck. He split in the coins, knotted the drawstrings firmly and tucked it away under his shirt.

“Thank you,” he said.

Mari nodded. “Next!” she called out to the one behind Lukas.

He reluctantly left the line. He had lined up behind Mari’s counter for the past weeks and she always processed the payments quickly and efficiently. Completely fair too, and Lukas needed all the coins he could get.

He headed out of the chamber, eying the remaining lines furtively. Most of the people here were desperately poor; selling their Animus for coins meant they couldn’t use it for anything else. But Lukas had little choice. The ten copper pennies he received would buy him a loaf of bread enough to feed him for the day.

It wouldn’t feed his little sister though.

There were precious few kids his age in the chamber. Most of those who had gone through the Atavism Ritual and received a passable Heritage would have been sponsored into the Academies. Unfortunately for Lukas, the Heritage his deceased father had left him was as common as grass. Trading away his Animus in Rumiga City’s Cartridge Power Hub was one of the few ways he could earn easily. He only had to bear with the lethargy and weakness for a few hours while his Animus reserves recovered.

He left through the side entrance, emerging at a relatively clean alley. The storefront at the major road, the 31st Avenue, Lower Ring, Rumiga City, was reserved for paying customers although Lukas thought that the majority of the collected Animus was sold to the City’s power grid.

Lukas followed the alley into the main street. The Lower Ring was the biggest district, but also the most crowded. People he passed gave him the side-eye. Lukas was dressed mostly in overlarge, threadbare clothes with tattered hems. He supposed he also reeked of sweat but the distance to the river outside the city was too far for a casual walk. He made do with walking down to the shack he and Kiruna called home.

The sidewalks were crowded with pedestrians while the centre was mostly clear for the Circuit Trams and personal landcraft to pass through. Lukas followed the flow, turning right on the corner and keeping within arms reach of the people around him. His eyes darted about constantly while he kept his head low. Every so often he glanced up, trying, and failing, to ignore the cliffside to the east.

The Upper Ring was situated at the top of the cliffside, some hundred paces or so high. Tall buildings made of glimmering stone reflected the afternoon sun from above. Most of the city’s administrators lived either on the Upper Ring or the Mids. The Lower Ring was for the common folk, the destitute, and the foreigners.

Industry was heavy down here, too. One of the ways Lukas earned extra coin was to run messages from one shop to another or even deliver their parcels. Nobody in the Lower Ring could afford to splurge on messenger cranes, giving urchins like him the opportunity to earn a few coins. The few shops that he frequently served knew him to be a steadfast boy. He’d never lost a parcel or misdelivered a message. Still, runners were plentiful and the competition was stiff.

He still had time to head over to Madame Francene’s Threads to see if she had a parcel for him to deliver. Afterwards, he would head over to the General Bakery and pick up a loaf. If he timed it right, he could get a couple of loaves about to go stale for half price.

The 31st Avenue was bordered by two- and three-storey buildings, mostly storefronts. Each one was built with hewn stone, shaped smooth by Earthmelders. A few had decorative etchings around the wooden doors. The decoration cleverly hid the protective runescript but Lukas noticed a few lines that sometimes glimmered with Animus.

The crowd was moving too slowly for Lukas’ taste so he slipped into another alley as soon as he could. The alley next to the cartridge shop led to a dead-end otherwise, he wouldn’t have braved the crowds at all.

He entered an alleyway beside a modest jewellery shop. Fewer people dared to traverse the labyrinthine paths of the city’s alleys and backroads. Most were no wider than a couple of paces and often littered with debris from the surrounding residences and businesses. Though there were laws that punished such offences, it was rarely enforced.

The shadows of the buildings provided welcome release from the Season of Fire’s sunlight. In the few minutes that Lukas had been outside, he found himself already soaked in sweat. A few people followed him into the alleys though only those who were familiar with the maze or those with a lot of time to spare did so.

Lukas stepped over a puddle as he zipped across several alleys, dodging stray dogs and cats who hissed. He thought he saw a rat hiding in the shadow, its beady black eyes warily darting about. He would have been lucky if he killed one as that would have netted him a copper mark from the bounty on vermin.

He emerged out of the shadows ten minutes later and followed the road, the 27th, for a while before he arrived at Madame Francene’s. The side entrance to the shop was unlatched. He knocked on the wooden door sill before he turned the knob and entered.

“Good afternoon, madame. Do you have any parcels for me to deliver?” Lukas asked politely as he peeked inside.

The matronly woman, the proprietress Francene Lucerne, started when he spoke. “Ancestors, lad. You should wait for an answer before you come in,” she scolded.

The shop was empty this late in the day. There were spools of different coloured yarn on the countertop with the yarn leading into her knitting needles.

“Pardon me,” Lukas bowed.

“Ohoho, never you mind. Unfortunately, it’s been a slow day.”

“I see,” Lukas sighed dejectedly.

“Well, hmm. Have a biscuit. It wouldn’t do to have my best runner starve.” Madame Francene picked up a tin, opened it and handed a butter biscuit to Lukas.

His eyes couldn’t help but widen and his mouth started salivating. The palm-sized confection was dusted with white sugar! How much would the matron have spent on that tin? There were dozens of those in there.

“Now, shoo. Come back again tomorrow,” Francene smiled indulgently.

“Thank you, madame,” Lukas gulped. He carefully wrapped the biscuit in his relatively clean handkerchief and tucked it into his pocket. He let himself out the same way and headed to another shop.

The elderly woman had always had a soft spot for Lukas and his sister. It had to do with his mother who used to work for her. Alas, his mother died not long after his father did, and the madame didn’t have enough business to have more apprentices.

The next couple of shops didn’t have any work for him either but he lucked out on the fourth.

The cobbler needed a message sent to a house on the far end of the Lower Ring. He was to deliver it and await a reply. He pocketed the copper penny that was half his fee and carefully held the message paper in its envelope. It weighed precisely three HiJin, a light enough burden that he wouldn’t even notice it if he ran

A glance at the sun told him he had a couple of hours left before he needed to be at the bakery.

He walked briskly past the crowd, into an alley, and started jogging. He pushed past the exhaustion brought about by depleting his Animus, though he knew he’d pay for it later. He crossed several main thoroughfares and cut through blocks using the alleyways before he arrived at the address indicated on the missive.

It was a tenement building, about four storeys high with a dozen apartments per floor. He tipped his cap at the shirtless stoner snorting nightlily dust. The red-eyed youth gave him a huge grin but from the distant look on his face, Lukas was sure the man hadn’t even seen him.

On the second floor, apartment eight, he knocked on the door and handed the missive over when it opened. The middle-aged woman with dark bags under her eyes and a tightfisted grip on a kitchen knife, snatched the paper from him and stared at the letters wordlessly before asking, “What in Chaos is this?”

“Cobbler Evans sends that your boots are ready for fitting. You can see him on the third morning hour tomorrow.”

“Fine.” She handed the piece of paper back, scratching the bottom with her nails to make a mark. “Tell him I’ll be there and they better fit right this time!” She slammed the door close before he could say anything else.

“Miser.” He clicked his tongue.

He made his way back to the cobbler, delivering the verbal reply and receiving another copper penny for his trouble.

He hurried to the General Bakery and, as luck would have it, there was half of a nearly stale loaf that the baker’s assistant pressed into Lukas’ hands along with a fresh loaf. It only cost him the twelve copper pennies he made today.

He tore off a piece and ate it ravenously. It was tough and dry, but it did fill his tummy.

He hurried on his way home, using the back roads mostly. None of the main thoroughfares actually led to the shantytown that was a stone’s throw away from Rumiga City’s guard wall.

The sun had long set into the Zarek Mountains in the west by the time he pushed aside the ratty curtain that served as the door to their small shack.

His sister, Kiruna, looked up from her task and gave him a bright smile. She’d lost weight again, Lukas thought. About six HiJin more than usual. The ten-year-old girl had the same blue hair he did though it had darkened to black from the dust. She was stitching together scraps of fabric into circular rags. A bunch of them would sell for a copper penny or two.

“Big brother!” She pounced on him as soon as he came within reach.

“Watch the bread!” he yelped.

“Ehehe.” Kiruna grabbed the smaller loaf. Before she could bite on it though, Lukas snatched it out of her hands and handed over the fresh one.

Shrugging to herself, she broke the loaf in half and offered it back.

“For tomorrow morning,” Lukas said firmly while he ate the stale loaf.

Their shanty barely had enough space for both of them to lie down in but there was at least a separate enclosed area for the chamber pot.

The only other fixture in the house was a rain barrel that stored their drinking water. In the mornings, Lukas purified it using his recovered Animus. This season, he’d need to gather water from the communal well rather than from rainfall. He’d spend more Animus to purify the water from there, which meant less for him to sell in the afternoon.

“I have a surprise,” he said teasingly.

“Ooh, what is it?” Kiruna bounced on her heels. “What, what? Did Mari finally notice you? Did you pick up a silver penny? Did you…”

“Hold on, hahaha,” Lukas smirked, willfully ignoring the first part. “Here.” He handed his folded up kerchief to her.

“Ooh!” Kiruna carefully peeled the package and started squealing. “Eeeeeii! Brother, is this?”

“Butter biscuits with sugar. Madame Francene gave us some,” Lukas beamed.

“Oooh, here here!” She made to break it in half.

“I already had one,” he interrupted.

“Alright.” She nodded and nibbled a corner of the biscuit, face glowing in pleasure. “So tasty!”

Lukas smiled while he washed down the bread with some water. It would be three more years before she could attend an Atavism Ritual. He would need to start gathering the funds for it soon.

“Lukas Nadir.” A deep voice came through their curtain door. The stern-looking man peeked inside. “A word, if you please.”

“Of course, Mazer.” Lukas sighed. The other man was a usurer, lending coins for exorbitant rates.

Lukas wondered what the other man wanted him to do now. Nothing too exciting, hopefully. He had debts to repay though, and little recourse in how to do it.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep