Broken Tower Saga: The First Swordsman

            The sky was cloudless, and the sun was comforting in the wintery morning, though the fog left it almost unenjoyable. The slow, chilly wind blew from the west as the vehicle went against it and left the great wall.

        It was the morning, Wrik promised Ryat to move with him to see something though he was not sure what that shady salesman had him to see. On another note, he was not alone with Ryat. Anton joined at the last moment, worrying about his safety. Well, his worry was valid. The last time he left the great wall, a group of vigilantes attacked him in a masterful way though they failed to get what they needed. 

        Anton was far more trusting of people than him, yet he still joined him even though he seemed to trust the bald man a little. In the few interesting with Ryat, Wrik's trust towards the man rose by quite a margin. Though the merchant was shady, and hid many things, he had not tried to pull a fast one on him. And more importantly, the bald man needed him and Anton for some work.

        Wrik looked from the glass window of the vehicle and saw this side was a little different from the other side that he travelled twice. First, there were no raw materials bunked in rows, but there were still many garrisons appointed. Soldiers stood wearing their dark green uniforms holding the long spear and shotgun.

        He had already collected some information about these weapons that run in mana current after the assault and found out these sorts were invented by Zandra first, but now it was mass-produced everywhere with the convenient excuses of safety measure and protection. 

        He wondered and found the answer after a few minutes as the vehicle travelled alongside of Tej'Shaher.

        There are far more industrial factories on this side than the others. And most of them appeared to be mining sites, all surrounding the rivers. He picked up a few names and recalled he knew most of them. Most of these sites were owned by the nobles, though they had to give a hefty sum of forty percent to the council for it. No one was exempt from this tax, though the council give some exemption now and then if their behaviour were all in check.

        And with that large sum, they got the security that they needed and could even have a say in the council if their contribution was high enough. His stomach swirled, thinking about politics.

        "I wonder what we will get to see here," Anton said from the sides. He thought out loud for Ryat to listen to it and answer why he took them here.

        "We will arrive in a few minutes," said the bald salesman. "You will see what you need then."

        Wrik did not question and waited for the vehicle to stop. He could guess why Ryat took him here. It was probably to get his consonant on the thievery that the shady merchant was planning. Yet, he still came and waited for the merchant to blow his mind through his pitch. 

        Another thing that confused him was that Ryat had not asked about the key he had. If it was normal to ask if it was real or not, but he did not even utter a single word about it for the few hours the car was travelling.

        "We have arrived," Ryat said, and the vehicle stopped. He got off first and made way for the duo to get off.

        Thick fog greeted them as they got off. The air in this region was far worse even compared to the slum while the surrounding was cloudy with fog. It was just before nine, the fog should have cleared out by now, but it was still present with the murky strangling feeling. Something wrong with this place. Something was wrong with the entire Gala. 

        "The toxic smoke and fog combined together to create this situation," the short bald man said and walked, gesturing for both of them to come.

        "How long does it stay like this?" Anton asked.

        "It depends," Ryat answered and went to the bridge. He brought them towards the steel railings. "Mostly it stayed all day, though the degree of it decreased a little during the day. It has been like this since the time I remember."

        "That's why people do not live here," Anton added and looked at the water of Tej'shaher. It appeared a little greenish-black, flowing slowly along the course. Here the river was far broader than the narrowed one they had seen in the dome, though far more polluted.

        "There are still people living here. People who have nowhere to go or are not allowed to go."

        "Are they mining in the river?" Wrik asked abruptly as his eyes went further towards chimneys. "I read, the Tej'Shaher was supposed to have a swirling current, not like this now. Industrialism should be the reason for it."

        "You are quite right," the merchant said. "As the upheaval was approaching, they started mining without rest. This river is the main source of heavy silver, which is used as a semiconductor in most weapons. All the mana conducting materials were mined from here and from another place which was far worse."

        Wrik nodded. he knew heavy silver was by far one of the best conductors of maha mana, only losing out to Almaner and a couple of other metals. "So, why have you brought us here?" he asked.

        "I brought you to observe something with your own eyes," the salesman said and walked across the bridge. "Come with me."

        Wrik and Anton followed. There was no sign of humans in the path nor any vendor or stalls, but Ryat said people still lived here. After moving for a while, they got to see the residents of here.

        There were a few people who slept on the path like they were dead. Few was awakened up and still sitting against the wall. Suddenly, Wrik halted, and so did Anton.

        "Slaves?" Anton asked with a dark expression.

        They saw a group of half a dozen men pulling a cart. They had clothes as thick as a sack on them, disheveled hair and brown copperish skin. But the other thing other than the peculiar skin colour that caught the duo's eyes was the slave brand on their bodies. Some even had it on their forehead. Some had more than one, and some had in several places. They were carrying the stones in a ductile manner, not even giving a side look at them. It was as if they were machines.

        "Or how do you think they would manage cheap labour?" Ryat said with a rigid face. "Do you see their shining copperish skin? It's a cancerous disease they got from the radiation. It was what they got for their labour other than the dull meals. All of them were dying and most had stopped living long ago. They only alive though the physical sense only."

        "The council allows slavery?" Anton asked, though Wrik had the same question in mind.

        "They usually don't have pen and paper," Ryat continued, walking. In the slow frigid wind, their long robe swayed as a thick layer of dust and ashes formed in it. "But with some noble reason or punishing cause, they allowed it to the prisoner of some heinous crime.

        "And the irony was that not even a tenth of the slaves were convicted of a punishable crime. Some of them might have rebelled against the system, but most were definitely not. Some might have caused some upheaval, but most did not even have the courage to hit another person. They might have stolen something to fill the belly of their family, yet got themselves here.

        "All of that was for the convenience of the nobles because nobody in their right mind would like to work here considering the radiation will kill them today or tomorrow."

        Anton clasped his palms into fist, and breathed heavily to calm down.

        "Are you born noble, Ryat?" Wrik asked, arching his eyebrows at the short man.

        The short, bald man looked at him peculiarly and smiled. "Does my stature in any way look that of a noble?" he asked.

        What he said was quite true. Though all nobles are not handsome and fair skinned like porcelain, they mostly were and comparing them with Ryat—there was a stark distinction between them. But his question was not invalid as well.

        "Well, through your manner and the tone you speak sometimes showed is not of peasant though," Wrik added, and they arrived before a three-storeyed building which appeared to have a restaurant on the bottom floor.

        "I am no noble," Ryat said and sighed. "But I was adopted by the noblest person I have ever seen. All this type of tones and ways, I learned, were from him and his companions. If anyone in the axis universe qualifies to be nobles, then it was them."

        Wrik did not know what to say. 

        "But that is a story for another time. Let's get in."