The Girl Who Fell from the Polar Star - Chapter 15

November 20, 2022

“This neighborhood is truly hopeless,” said Stella. “No, actually, this whole town.”

“I’m sorry,” said Beck. “If only I looked scarier, nobody would’ve bothered you . . .”

Ten of you might have looked scary enough, though Stella, but that’s not something I could endure. “Is everywhere in this town this dangerous?”

“Not everywhere, no. There’s the North District, where the rich people live, but the gate leading there is kept tightly shut. And well, there’s the Company’s territory. It’s safe enough for us.”

The gangs milked every establishment and individual in their territories out of their hard-earned money in exchange for protection, and those who didn’t pay had to fend for themselves. They hadn’t come up with the system; it was the mayor’s political model. The weak and vulnerable of this town would find no protection in the law.

“So here it doesn’t matter that we’re citizens,” said Stella. “Nonpaying citizens are as good as outsiders.”

“That’s how it works. And a good thing too, or else we’d be out of business.”

“That’s all well and good, but I wish they wouldn’t see me as such an easy target.”

She had been stopped three times on her way to the slave market, by a young man, a middle-aged man, and finally an old man in beggarly rags. Looking at her, they must have seen nothing more than a gullible child.

Unlike last time she’d been here, Stella was well and richly dressed. At a glance, anyone might mistake her for some girl of noble birth, driven out of her mansion by a naive curiosity to see the world. In other words, the perfect target for thieves. They were further encouraged by Beck being the only escort in evidence. Should their threats be unsuccessful, they could simply kidnap her and demand a ransom from her “guardian.”

‘But yer still alive and kickin’, eh, all thanks to me!’

“Yes, you did save me some unnecessary effort. Well done.” Clever had descended upon her attackers from above, pecking at their heads until they would give up.

Stella could have used her Magic Crystal, but the prospect of doing that every time someone looked at her wrong was far too vexing. As of now, her only means of combat was to paralyze her enemies—following up with a lethal blow—or to drain their life force. The more destructive spells were, unfortunately, not safe to cast for her yet. Her Magic Crystal was controlled by her soul, and it served as her source of mana, but she needed to tap into her own strength and mana to use it. This body was severely lacking in both respects. It would break under the strain, the same way a shallow, narrow waterway would overflow during heavy rains.

‘So long as you ’ave me, Master, you’ve nothing to fear!’

“Then I hope you’ll stick around for the next fifty years.”

‘Of course, eh! I’ll even dig yer grave and arrange yer funeral!’

“I don’t care what happens after I die,” she said, “but I appreciate the sentiment.”

Clever flew around and around, happily.

He and Stella went way back; out of the many Sacred Beasts, Clever had been the only one she’d gotten along with. Without him, Stella could not have endured the fetters of eternal stagnation which had shackled her and the others in that place—that place where death, and its sweet release, were unattainable. As her ashen memories came back to life, a queasy feeling settled in her stomach.

Tedium is the death of the soul. It was the same for Sacred Beasts, and one by one they had abandoned that place. But not Clever. He had stayed for her sake. The only ones left now would be two very stubborn creatures: a woman and a beast. Are they going to stay there until the end? Or will they change their minds one day? There was no knowing the answer.

A fragment of her memories emerged from the depths of her mind.

—There’s nothing left. I can tell. I know you won’t change your mind, no matter what I say . . . but we should put an end to this.

—No. Our purpose is to maintain and protect this place until the time of awakening. There is nothing else to do.

—Maintain? Maintain what? You know it’s pointless. Go on, open it, see for yourself. Why do you refuse to look inside?

—We are not allowed to break the seal without orders. That goes against our purpose. Anyone who attempts to do so, without exception, will be punished.

—Hey. Do you know what happens when you give a plant too much water? No? If you insist on being so dense, I’ll show you.

They’d refused to acknowledge it, the truth that she’d told them hundreds, thousands, millions of times: there was nothing there. She was a support unit, and she knew everything. The Slumbering Tower was a lofty structure, built for a lofty goal; yet in the end it was but a mass grave, its occupants never again to waken. It was fate’s retribution. They had gone into slumber to escape a disaster of their own doing, a disaster whose magnitude they’d underestimated in their pride. Ironically, however, the tower had been responsible for the purification of the greater part of the world—which was nothing if not amusing.

Clever was looking at her. The next moment, a powerful wave of static interrupted her thoughts. I’m a human now, a frail little human, she thought. These memories are meaningless. I should forget them.

“Uh, aren’t we going in, ma’am?”

“I just got distracted thinking. Let’s go.”

Stella walked around the market square, taking in the sights. The slaves all looked like corpses, same as last time she’d been here. Like cattle waiting for slaughter. Granted, it was the slavers’ job to do this to them—but she didn’t have to like it.

After a while, Stella espied the slaver from whom she’d purchased Rye and Marie. She approached him.

“Welcome! A first-time customer? Would you care for a tour of the merchandise?”

“No need. We’ve done business before. Don’t you remember me?” Stella pushed up the brim of her hat, revealing her face. This hat was new, and so was her sorcerer’s outfit (technically a costume for children). Last time, she’d been much more poorly dressed. No wonder he hadn’t recognized her.

“Oh, of course! You look a different person, miss. First a beggar, now a sorcerer. So you like dressing up, huh? It’s a wonderful hobby!”

“Thank you. I’m glad you think so.” She couldn’t bother explaining it.

“Have you come looking for more slaves?”

“Yes. This time I’m looking for able fighters. To be more specific, I want someone who can fight like ten Becks.” She pointed at Beck.

The slaver glanced at him, then gave a wry smile. “Strong lads like him, they sell as soon as I acquire them. They’re perfect as laborers and pit fighters, and my special customers get first pick. As you can see, the only men left are the pretty ones and the kids, young and exploitable. You won’t find what you want easily, I’m afraid.”

“Not easily—but there is a way, right?”

“Indeed, there is. For one, you could participate in one of the Rest Day auctions—but it’s mostly women that I sell there, former members of the nobility. The elite seem fond of humiliating them and stepping all over their pride. Well, who am I to judge? It’s great business.”

“I suppose I’ve wasted a trip, then. Unfortunately.” Those women would hardly be worth their price, which wouldn’t be cheap to start with. I’d get a few tales of former glory, and how they came to lose it, but that’s about it.

Well, this was a waste of time. Her profits for this trip stood at a meager three sub-Beck encounters. Speaking of which, all three of them had been left gravely wounded and would be unable to move for a good while, so unless they were members of a gang, they’d lose their status of exploiters to become the exploited. Even here, the basic laws of nature had their place. How grand.

The slaver put his hand to his chin. “Hmm . . . You could also scout someone out at the arena. If truth be told, I’d rather you buy from me—but I trust you’ll remember me next time you want slaves, yes? Send my regards to your old man.”

He rubbed his hands together and gave Stella a neighborly smile which made her skin crawl. At least he’s harmless, she thought, nodding back. He cared not so much for Stella as for the money—and perhaps influence—of some figure that he could glimpse behind her. He’d taken her for some rich family’s daughter.

“I will,” she said. “Thanks for telling me all this. See you next time, then.”

“I hope to see you again soon. I’ll tell you all about how to raise the perfect slave for you from a very young age. It’s a new trend, you see.”

“Hmm.”

“Thank you, and come back again!”

The way he moved his hands and smiled made her feel sick. He’s passionate about his work, at least. That’s a good thing.

Stella left the market square, the murmur of the crowd dying away behind her. This place was fascinating; all those people were out and about looking to buy human beings.

“That was a lot of shameless self-promotion,” said Stella. “Does that mean the slavers are not all under the same gang?”

“They’re not,” said Beck. “The top gangs of each district, North, South, East, and West, they send their own people to trade here. For the West District, that’s the Palpud Union. Mr. Mace has it in his head to cast them down and claim that right one day, but apparently it’s not that simple. This is all I know, though. Sorry, ma’am.”

“Maybe I should ask Mace himself later for the details. Sounds like an educational topic—not to mention interesting.”

“I can learn stuff too, ma’am! I’ll work hard!”

“Try not to work too hard. You don’t want to trip on your own feet,” she said without changing her expression. I can abide you being useless, but not less than useless.

As a matter of fact, Stella had enough basic background knowledge of her own. What she really wanted to learn was how things worked below the surface, away from the public eye—and in so learning, she knew she’d grow as a person. She was here now, to pry to her heart’s content, and that’s what she would do. It was her goal, after all.

Speaking of basic background knowledge, perhaps the most well-known fact was the mayor’s name: Greggs Georgia. More than a mayor, however, he was this town’s king and emperor—at least for the time being. There was no going against his word; when the Georgia Family marked you as an enemy, you were as good as dead. The bulk of Peasbury’s income was his: the wealthy denizens of the North District, the downtown area in the Central District, the arena, the slave market, even the drug trade, to some extent, though he couldn’t boast of that openly. His power extended over the military, and he had a say in both internal and external affairs. Rather than raise his own army, he took great pains to stay perpetually on the fence by paying all the right people. He always had one hand over the table and one under it, the one offering the Church generous donations to preserve his image as their faithful ally, the other bribing the Empire to stay well away from his town. To fund all his bribing, he collected money from the gangs through taxation, which the gangs in turn collected from the weak through exploitation, thus funneling most of the wealth generated at the bottom of society to the top.

But even Greggs was just another node in the pipeline. The seat at the very top of the chain, and the right to claim it as supreme ruler—that was what this war between the Church and the Empire was all about. Meanwhile, lives were lost, resources were drained into the war effort, and the people at the bottom suffered.

Throughout the ages, the names of the people in power may change, but their actions remained the same. And amidst their plots and schemes people lived intense, short lives, like flames burning bright before dwindling and fading. This world was dynamic and ever-changing, nothing like that dull, stagnated place where her soul had not been allowed to breathe. The difference was striking. Human nature truly is something else.

“This world is so captivating, isn’t it?”

‘Oh, yer doing the scary face again!’

“I thought I already knew that, but seeing it with my own eyes, hearing it with my own ears, it makes all the difference. Humans . . . they’re simply wonderful.”

‘Hmm, I dunno, eh. But so long as Master’s ’aving fun, I’m ’appy!’

“You’re wonderful too, Clever. Except the way you speak.”

‘What can I do, eh? I picked it up somewhere, eh, it’s not my fault!’

Stella giggled. “So, let’s get going. I hope we can meet someone interesting.”

She sauntered toward the arena.