Dark Crow Rising

"You can't be serious, Nin, you have no interest in going up a level?" Tamudum asks as we carefully hammer and chisel the mildly valuable walls. Admittedly, I had lied to him with my answer just now. But, I mostly want to keep myself occupied with the now and not the future. Rummaging through my supplies, I apply a mixture of preserving oils and lotions onto the bronze panelling.

We've been at this for so long that I want it to be done and dusted. It's all I need. I do not want to come back to this the next day on my next shift. Yet, in working so hard, I notice that he isn't. So I jab my elbow at him.

"Ow, hey!" he harshly whispers against my face. Focusing on my work to make it clear I do not care, he backs away and nurses his side. Mutters disturb the air and I turn to stare at him. Air leaves my nose forcefully and my gaze narrows.

Making sure law enforcement doesn't hold us up is a thankless job...

This muttering, though... "How about instead of complaining, you get back to work? Do not forget what we are. People like to go home on time. They like to clock out on time. -I- like to clock out on time. Focus on your work and shut up!"

Then, because I do not think he quite gets it, I snatch him up by the collar of his overalls. I take an oil I was just using, and I put the open cap near his eyes. When he finally gives me that reluctant nod that I am very eager to see, I let him go. Putting the oil back into my bucket, I stand up and reach for my belt.

Taking my canteen off of it, I have a quick sip of water and smack my wet lips. I wash them as best as I can with a quick pour of what is left. Stubbornly rubbing my thumb on my palm, I try to work it in and clean the lines. Huffing my annoyance at the resistant chemicals, I pat my hands on the cleanest part of my overalls.

Inspecting what I have done thus far today, I take my filthy cloth out and put the empty canteen back. Polishing the spots that look off, I nod at their subsequent shine. I want this metal to shine like a light bulb. So, I keep polishing until the metal starts to catch the light cleanly.

Seeing that little golden orb that refuses to stay still, I turn towards the nearest window. Looking back at my toolbox, I feel excited and desperate, and I lean out as far as I can. Surely, surely, it is nearly time to clock out, or it is that time! The grand clock all the way up high seems to imply the desired time, but I can't be sure with this angle.

Leaning away, I look back at my toolbox. Maybe I am missing something... Yes. I am, yeah.

"I need to change my tools." I huff out with a smirk and I gather up my stuff clumsily. Closing the lid, I grab the handle and rattle the toolbox. I smile and walk away with a tune maybe building up inside my mouth. The clock is so close to the good spot, but just far enough away to warrant a moan if I get caught idle.

All I need to do is get to a quartermaster, any will do, any at all. I need to pester him for the time being and maybe, just maybe, we'll share a knowing smile when the sound-off alarms ring. Though, if I am slower, the alarm will just ring as I walk and I can simply dump my toolbox... I'll be free for another brief evening!

But, with Tamudum's stupidity still on my mind, an issue lingers quite clearly up in my head. If I run into someone from one of the higher floors, for whatever reason, I'll be in trouble. Thankfully, there isn't much precedent for anything but a rusty band to enter my lowered sights. All the same, however, I keep my eyes facing down and my ears open.

The rattles of multiple wrist and ankle bracelets will give them away...

"Just got t-"

I back away, clutching my head. There's no way I just hit a wall. And, hearing the rattling of bracelets and the ping of metal heels, my eyes widen. Black, high-heeled boots with a golden base and gold bits throughout...

Talk about bad luck.

"Sorry, sorry." I go, making sure to keep my head down subserviently. I hope whoever she is that she is the forgiving type. She better be the kind that understands easily that it was an accident. But, with that much gold on her, I might actually be doomed.

"Don't mind me. It was my fault for not being careful. Go ahead and pass by if you want," a sweet, feminine voice says, and I fail to react. I can't stop looking at the sight of gold on her shoes. I am in for it, I am done for!

She giggles and moves closer. A white, gold-edged glove moves past my eyes and towards my chin. Her hand lingers there, and it confuses me. I can't figure out why she is doing this. I've seen the gold on her shoes. I don't need to see more signs that she is my superior!

Grasping my chin, she moves my head up, and I shut my eyes tight. I try to force my way out of her grip, but it's impossibly strong. I feel like I am stuck in a tightened vice clamp. Whatever her reasons are for doing this, I am not giving her a chance to screw me over should security come.

"Now, now, you have nothing to fear. I am not going to hurt you and I will not cause you issues. Just relax." she tells me in a kind, soft tone. However, with the contrast this inhuman grip on my jawbone gives...

I try to get my head out of her grasp again and I feel it loosen. She laughs as if she just realised she did something by accident and she lets go. Stumbling back to the wall behind me, I bang the back of my head and drop my toolbox. Hissing, I rub my head to make sure it isn't bleeding and I flex my freed mouth.

Keeping my gaze on the floor, the amusement vanishes from her mannerisms. Something flushes through my veins and I pick up on her disappointment. I don't know why she is, but I am following the law. Keeping my gaze down is a part of the legal, official protocol. I am doing what is required of me!

This has to just be a facade... There's no way this can be anything different.

"I guess I'll go about this differently..." she lets out somewhat quietly as her arms cross over each other, "You'll be coming with me now." she firmly orders.

I feel myself die on the inside.

I have been following the law; I apologised regardless of whose fault it was. I am going about this with my gaze down. I am not speaking unless allowed. I am doing everything! Yet, it's not enough, she's going to just...

My heart pumps maddeningly, and I clench my fists as my neck stiffens. When she turns and leaves, I follow her with legs that do not share the same rigidity. My gaze goes no higher than her golden heels and outsoles. My legs just keep on going and the contrast of light and stains on the floor changes with each step.

Suddenly, she stops and I barely miss walking into her again. I hear a whirring machine locked away behind metal and concrete. The abrupt bing and moving doors clarify that we are at a lift. Seeing her feet move again, I step in after her.

She presses what seems to be the highest button, and she presents proof of who she is. The doors close, just in time to block out the sound-off alarm as it rings. Moving slightly, I feel my insides go down as we go up. The woman taps her foot again and again and I tuck my thumbs away into my fists, squeezing them gently.

I move upwards slightly and the doors open once again. Failing to move, she taps my shaven head and I gulp. My filthy black steel caps step out onto the clean, fancy carpets of the higher floors. Random spots of unreal pain appear all around me. They move about with each step I take and each step everyone else takes.

So many polished, patterned shoes with hardened, gold-plated heels. Boots similar to mine appear with the rattle of dangerous equipment just out of my eyesight. Exposed, painted nails placed in heels of all kinds click out of the way. Slippers flip about with each step.

I am doomed...

I feel like a pet being dragged after its owner. It frustrates me, but I can't express it. If I do, I'll only make my situation worse. I guess I should be thankful that I am able to walk myself, that I am just following her... But, realising my doom properly, I look up.

I am on the highest floors of Tobaballe, at the behest of an insulted superior. I am doomed regardless of what I do. There's just no reason to show restraint anymore. These pumped-up, bejewelled top-floorers sneer at me and I sneer back.

My confidence increases with every step, and I look around as if I belong. I might as well try to enjoy all the sights up here, at the very least. Compared to the near-bottom of the city, it's nice, quite nice. I am hard-pressed to find anything I could say is actually worse than what I am used to seeing.

Bright, rich colours cover the wallpaper, metal and stone all over this grand hallway. Paintings and carved artistry decorate everything on top of it. The people up here are certainly easier on the eyes as well. Not just because of their fancy dresses, corsets or what have you either. I can't see an ugly person anywhere.

No one has aged like forgotten milk and most are youthful and energetic. It's baffling, really. They all managed to work their way up to this floor from the ground in so little time. The women are beautiful, absolutely stunning and their clothes just make them gorgeous. Refined, sharply dressed men without a crease anywhere on their suits. All of it has clearly been through a treasury rather than to a tailor.

The woman in front of me, however, I can't seem to keep my confidence with her. So, keeping my eyes on everyone else as they are fair game, I let the wealth sparkle in my brown eyes. Everything, just everything... Wealth.

Everyone's needs are clearly attended to and there are all kinds of fancy contraptions up here. The same applies to the security of this place. They have guns, but not ones I have ever seen before. If I have seen them before, then they are just too gilded and studded to be recognisable.

Our gazes meet a lot, especially when one of these top-floorers whispers their disgust to them...

Coming up on a fountain with crystal-clear water, it snatches up my attention. Fancy is one way to put it. Decadence covers this thing everywhere. But, the statue at its centre has an odd simplicity to it. Paying closer attention, however, I spot the pipes built into the solid stone carving.

We go up the floors based on our skill as workers, administrators or whatever we are. But this, this is just... Wow. I can't even begin to figure out how they have done this. I see no signs of sealed mould lines or hinges and locks!

"Something has caught your eye," that woman comments with a bemused tone. I flinch and keep my gaze on the statue.

"Just trying to figure out how this is built..." I quietly manage to mutter. Somehow.

"Well, guess I've found out how to make you talk. Come, I'll supply you with a smaller, similar statue when we get to the Crown. You can then coddle that all you want," she explains, but I stop listening when she clarifies our destination.

The Crown?

She's a Spire-Lord, she is one of Tobaballe's leaders and she is taking me directly up to the highest floor!?

She seems to find my expression amusing, and she makes a noise because of it and walks off. Turning to follow her, I slowly approach an overly elaborate set of stairs made out of some kind of pearl-like stone. Up its middle is a fluffy, richly coloured, red carpet that covers most of the steps. Whatever the material is, it changes shades depending on the angle I look at it from.

Having taken in the impressive staircase, I step up onto the first step. Each step echoes louder and louder and all other noise seems to vanish. Leaving them behind, I walk out into a vast, empty space that is somehow gaudier than the floor I was just on. Gold, silver, marble, fine granite, gemstones and silks. This place has it all.

Coming to a stop, I spot those who guard the Crown.

"Goldhands..." I breathe quietly as I stare at the near-motionless, black and gold-armoured men. Peculiarly, their hands do not match the name. There's gold on their uniforms, but nowhere on their black-painted steel gauntlets. More confusingly, though, they lack weapons completely.

Just one staircase away, I can find guards armed to the teeth. But, here, in the Crown... The capital district of Tobaballe, they have nothing. It's surreal.

I finally get moving towards the extravagant, perfume-smelling home.

"Welcome to my home. Take a seat if you will, I'll be back shortly," the woman says to me as I approach. Stepping through the front door, she disappears behind another and I stop. I do not take another step forward. Everything up here is so nice and clean and, strangely, even though it is not my stuff, I prefer it to stay clean.

Despite what is going to happen to me...

Though, as I am refusing to move, I look around her house to pass the time. Dark wood panelling covers several parts of the floor on the far side of the room. The walls depict a luscious forest, and I have to admit, it is already my favourite part. It's been so long since I have seen anything apart from the odd potted plant down on the ground floor.

I nearly sniff in amusement at how I prefer a painting of trees over anything prior to now. But, looking around some more, I start to see how everything else is contributing to something grander. Whatever it is, though, I cannot see it and my appreciation is skin-deep. There's a lot of money here but not one Workman's Press of it can be used to buy a meal.

"Seriously, it's fine, you can walk into my home properly," the woman aggrievedly exclaims as she comes back in with the promised statue. Putting my gaze down to the ground, I walk over to her and move to take the statue. She starts to giggle and I stop. There's a jokester's warning here, but, with how my life is already damned, I might as well see if it makes me laugh.

Taking the statue into my hands, she releases her grip.

"B-By Sraac-" I let out as the overwhelming weight of the statue passes to me. My back nearly gives out, and I crash to my right knee with a painful thud. She gently grips the statue's head and saves my fingers from being crushed by the statue. Thankfully, she helps me guide it to the ground and I retract my hands and flick them in the air.

How strong is she? Why did I have to rely on her to put down a small statue? I'm the physical labourer here! She's just some...

"I suppose you'll want to know why it is so heavy?" she asks as I briefly meet her almost-golden eyes.

With it all so fresh in my mind and with fingers ache-filled as they are, I nod. Following her as she walks to the sofas in the middle of the room, I wait at the edge of one. She sits down and unlocks a small cabinet. Sliding it open, she pulls out a drinking glass and a vial. She pours herself a drink, and she locks it all back up, curiously enough.

"The answer," she says as she swirls a gold, opaque liquid, "is in here." she answers, sipping on the drink.

"What?" I go, as that just makes no sense at all. That's just liquor. How can it make someone so strong? How does that statue relate to this at all? Surely she is just messing with me, and it has an iron core on the inside. A crude granite form with a plaster coating?

"Not convinced?" she asks as she gets up with her drink. Drinking it quickly, she approaches her grand fireplace. She stares intensely into the fire from up close and I start to get nervous. Looking back at the opened door, I spot a goldhand.

"D-Do I need to call in the goldhand?" I ask as she moves closer to the fire without a care at all. My skin is acting up just watching her move closer.

"No, it is fine. See, there are forces out there that can do much to change the physical properties of materials." she explains as she rolls the empty glass in her gloved hand.

"R-Right..."

Taking one of her gloves off, she leaves it on the fireplace counter and crushes the glass in her bare hand. Jumping at the sight, grim curiosity overcomes me as I see what has failed to happen. No blood is dripping from her hands... She plunges her hand into the fire and releases the glass onto the burning, scented wood.

She's just put her hand into a roaring fire!

My mouth opens up and I stare. It's all I really can do. Presenting it, she shows off how perfectly fine it is and my body moves. I march up to and I snatch up her warm hand. I feel it carefully with my calloused hands, but, nothing. Her hand is just soft.

There's nothing else to it.

Blinking once, I step away with a shake of my head, "Why am I here?"