NOVEL WEB Chapter 1: The Bootmaker
Waxday, Week 33, Month Quatrus, Year of God 487
As the sun, always veiled in clouds, rose to its peak in the sky, pouring, torrential rain descended, as it always did, day in and day out, onto the city of Urbs Sacer. The pattering and rushing sounds were familiar to Lutheril Bootmaker, running along the street as he tried not to slip in a puddle.
“All commoners are to gather in the Holy Square to witness the nobility perform a special rite! Any who disobey will experience demotion to Sun Caste. I repeat, this gathering is mandatory!” bellowed a guard, hovering around ten feet above the area of road Lutheril trod. The magical power that only the nobility could use known as Lux emanated from his skin and glowing eyes, which darted about with inhuman speed. He repeated the message as Lutheril walked on.
Lutheril, known as Lou to his friends and “Boy” to his employer Thyrian, was of the Earth caste. He was among the highest-ranked commoners in the Holy Kingdom of God, but he was still a commoner. That bit deep into his ego, knowing that he was only a few social steps away from being allowed to skip this sundamn meeting. But you didn’t disobey the will of the oh-so-high and mighty Rain Caste - and by extent, the direct mandates of the God of Rain - if you wanted to live long. If you were of the Wind or Rain Castes and violated the law, they would execute you. But lower-ranked men had a special treat - being branded Sun Caste. It was pretty much a death sentence for even the hardest, bravest people, as you were sent beyond the borders as cannon fodder to fight the heathens who lived outside the Holy Kingdom.
Lou shivered - not just because of the biting cold that seeped through his hood and jacket. His neighbor Acturian had been caught stealing food from the Wind Caste barracks just a few months ago. He had been paraded through the streets, being branded as he was hauled. He was never seen again.
Meetings like this usually mean one of three things - they found a commoner who can use Lux, a noble who can’t, or they’re showing one of the Blood Caste being sacrificed, just to get the pious among us riled up, Lou thought. Abruptly, something bumped into his shoulder. He gasped in surprise and turned around. His good friend Arbevan Cook stood in the rain, a splitting grin plastered to his face and a medium package in his gloved hand. He had unruly brown hair and a shaved face. He had been Lou’s boyfriend for a time, before the latter had realized that he wasn’t attracted to men or women.
“Hey, Lou!” he said.
“Hey, Van,” Lou responded. “You gave me a start!”
“I always do,” Van retorted. “You’re more oblivious than a clam!” He paused. “Speaking of clam, I picked up some breaded clams for us to eat. I know that’s your favorite!”
“With red sauce?”
“Does the Voice of God like rain? Of course!”
“We’re not supposed to eat during the gathering,” Lou said.
“C’mon,” Van complained. “The guards will be looking for slackers, not eaters.”
“Very well,” Lou said exasperatedly. “I’m starving anyway. Had a bite of mossbread for breakfast, but my belly’s empty as a Rain Casteman’s heart otherwise.”
“Don’t say things like that!” said Van, his normal carefree manner of speaking going away. “We’ll be punished if they catch us saying things like that.”
“Sorry,” Lou said. The pair was silent for a time, walking along the street. Eventually they turned a corner and entered a different street. This part of town was unfamiliar to Lou, but Van knew the way. The guards would corral them if they didn’t move there fast enough.
As if to drive the point home, two guards landed just in front of Lou and Van. On their foreheads, they had tattoos introducing themselves as Wind Caste - three wavy lines. Earth caste’s tattoo was just a square. Lux emanated from their bodies and bulky raincoats, which presumably hid armor underneath.
God, but Lux unnerves me, Lou thought. Luxbearers can vaporise you just by blinking their eyes, and you won’t even know it.
“Greetings, citizens,” the guard on the left said. “I trust that you are finding your way to the ritual?” He spoke with a harsh, condescending voice.
“Yes, your lightnesses,” Van said, averting his eyes from the glowing men. “We are proceeding with haste.”
“Say, is that food you have there? I’m starving,” the other guard said, gesturing to Van’s breaded clams. He patted his belly with the other hand.
Lou groaned inside. He or Van weren’t in a position to refuse giving their meal to the higher-ranked soldiers.
“Here, your lightness,” Van grunted through gritted teeth. He handed the guard his clams. The guard immediately tore open the paper sack, shoveling chunks of food into his mouth.
“Thish ish great!” the guard said with a full mouth. “Where did you get theshe?”
“Calvamarnie Streetsweeper makes ‘em. She lives on Green Rat street, a few doors down from me,” Van groaned.
Abruptly the guard stopped eating. He handed the bag back to Van, who peered inside. A look of disappointment sprung onto his face.
“They ate all but one clam,” Van growled under his breath, punctuating each word. “Least he didn’t eat the sauce.”
At this point, the guards turned away. “We should patrol Green Rat street next,” the food-liking guard was saying.
“Yeah, right. You just want more clams, you ratbelly,” the harsh guard retorted. Their further conversation dwindled as the moved farther away from Lou and Van.
“Let’s move on,” Lou said in a shaky voice.
Van didn’t speak, instead affirming by following Lou. Hatred still burned in his eyes as the two continued their trek to the center of town.
Ten minutes of walking later, the two arrived in the Holy Square. The flat area was around 3,000 feet long to a side, and was covered with cobblestone except for a raised dais in the center. Off to the side, the square was connected to two slightly smaller squares - the Blessed and the Victorious Squares. Combined, they could hold Urbs Sacer’s 350,000 common inhabitants - but just barely. The square was almost completely filled with raincoat-clad people, their hoods up as they jostled for space. Lou and Van attempted to move closer to the dais, which was raised as to be visible anywhere in the three squares, but people behind them squeezed them forward like fish in a can. The rain beat down, flowing around people’s feet and into gutters. One elderly woman in front of the two removed her hood and tilted her head towards the sky, drinking rainwater. The sounds of nervous and excited chatter filled the air. One little boy to the right of Lou covered his ears and cowered, clearly disturbed by the intense noise.
“Quiet down!” a booming male voice shouted. It was too loud and strong to be normal - clearly a trick of Lux. It echoed around the three squares, and people began to cut off their conversations. When the area was completely silent, the voice started to speak again, turning everyone’s attention to the dais.
“Commoners of Urbs Sacer, we have gathered you here today to witness the family of Equus fall from grace. Their only surviving son has been born without the ability to use Lux. For this heinous crime against God, who mandates that those with the power of Lux be in charge, he shall be demoted to Sun caste. The parents, Marquess Thone and Rainlady Reen Equus, shall look upon their fallen house and despair, for God wills them to fall and other, more worthy Rain nobles to succeed in their place.”
The voice stopped. All of a sudden, Lux-created illusions appeared in the air, projecting what was happening on the dais directly to the entire crowd. Lou was close enough to see the actual event, however. Two guards on the dais brought forth a young man in chains. He was nude save for a loincloth, and the raindrop tattoo on his brow unmistakably proved him to be Rain Caste. He had a muscular body, a long beard, and messy light brown hair. His face bore an expression of terror. Low chatter began again. House Equus ruled part of the area around Urbs Sacer, and had the largest moss and waterweed farms in the capital territory. Who would oversee the farming once they faded to oblivion?
Once everyone had gotten a good look at the man, the voice announced, “This is Kane Equus. For his crime of not being able to use Lux, he is hereby branded of the Sun Caste, to never know the true pleasure of rain. He shall be sent to the border, and if he kills enough heathens, he will become a farmer. You commoners, you who are born without Lux, are lucky. God has created you to be inferior to us, thus you cannot access our power. If you did, you would be of the Blood Caste, sacrificed to Him for all to see. Kane cannot be sacrificed, and thus will be punished.”
One of the guards reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small metal rod with a part on the end - a branding iron. Then, a bolt of pure light shot from the guard’s eyes and onto the brand part, causing it to sizzle. The now-hot iron began to move towards Kane’s forehead. He began to scream, “No, please!” as the iron came closer and closer to his caste tattoo. When it connected, he screamed as iron sizzled against flesh. When it was withdrawn, his forehead bore the large, deep circle of the Sun Caste.
“The ritual is completed. Commoners are now dismissed,” the voice boomed. “May the God of Rain watch over us forever, bathing us in His divine rain and washing the evils of the world away.”
The group dismissed, people spilling in all directions like a burst dam. Chatter of all varieties began. Lou and Van began to walk towards Rat Boot Street, where Lou lived. Van lived on Green Rat Street a couple streets away from Lou.
The city of Urbs Sacer was shaped like a grid inside a circle. At its center was the Temple of Rain, a massive, intricately carved cathedral-fort where the seat of the Rainchurch lay. Priests, Archpriests and the Voice of God himself made decisions from within the mighty structure. It was visible from anywhere in the city. Surrounding the Temple was a ring of large mansions. The city’s Urblord - who ruled the city proper - and Districtlord - who ruled the area of land around the city - resided here, as well as the Marquesses who each ruled a village in city territory. All were of the Rain Caste save for the largest building. It was a tiered pyramid reaching almost to the height of the Temple of Rain. The Wind Caste used this as their barracks, and they could be seen practicing using their Lux to fly by jumping off the highest layer.
Extending outward from the ring of the nobility castes was a large circular grid of streets and buildings. There weren’t any true districts - warehouses, shops and homes could often be found next to each other, and you rarely had to leave your own block regularly, as your home, workplace and markets were usually right next to each other. Lou rarely left his street except to visit Van at his apartment on Green Rat Street every couple weeks. Eventually, the city just stopped and rapidly blended into the farms and villages surrounding the largest bastion of civilization in the known world.
The pair eventually reached Red Moss Street, where Green Rat and Rat Boot Streets branched off from.
“See you later, Lou!” Van said.
“How ‘bout we meet at your place next Waneday? Two days from now?” Lou asked. There were four days in a week - Stormday, when it thundered; Waneday, when it rained but did not storm; Moonday, when it drizzled; and Waxday, which was similar to Waneday in terms of how it rained.
“Sounds like a plan,” Van responded. The two embraced, then said, “Bye” at around the same time. Van began to walk to his home. He worked in his mother’s noodle shop. Green Rat Street had some of the most famous food in the city, and nobles and commoners alike came to taste Marlindah Cook’s famous noodle soup, Calvamarnie Streetsweeper’s breaded clams, Jacien Rainwater’s pie, and many more. Rat Boot Street lived up to its name - it made primarily boots, with a few other shops. Lou worked with his employer Thyrian Bootmaker, and a few doors down from his parents.
As he walked down his street, familiar senses greeted him. Georgimanil’s soup, kids playing in the rain puddles, said kids’ parents calling for them to put raincoats on lest they catch cold, Rorican playing his drum in an alleyway to a small audience. People had gotten back from the meeting faster than Lou had, apparently. A single guard, Robin, hovered above the center of the street. He was friendly to the commoners on Rat Boot Street and didn’t report minor infractions of law, so long as they weren’t obvious ones.
“Ho there, Lutheril!” Robin called. “What took you so long to arrive home?”
“I dunno, I was just walking with m’friend,” Lou responded.
“I see. Ahh, to be young again… No matter. Your employer Thyrian desires help.”
Lou groaned. It wasn’t like he minded spending his time making boots. He was paid, after all. He just wanted to rest. A morning of making boots, a meeting on the other side of town in the afternoon, and more boots made for a long day.
He entered his boot shop, the familiar scents of leather and unwashed feet washing over him. Some called those scents disgusting, but not Lou. To him, they were home.
“You’re back, boy,” said Thyrian. His tone was authoratitive but not condescending. He was supposedly only a decade or so older than Lou, but he spoke and acted like an elderly man.
“You said you needed help, Master Thyrian?” Lou asked.
“Indeed I do. Kylian Streetwater here desires a new pair of boots,” Thyrian answered, gesturing to a hunched, bearded man. Kylian lived on Blue Rat Street, between Lou and Van’s streets.
“My old pair started leaking, so I figured I’d haul this old bum of mine over here to get some new ones,” Kylian said.
“Very good work. We don’t want our customers getting foot moss. Boy, take his measurements. I’ll get to work.”
Lou got out a string with measuring notches, then had Kylian take off his old boots. Lou measured the dimensions of the older man’s foot, then shouted them to Thyrian. After it was done, Lou was called to help his employer.
First, they made the base of the boot, creating a sole of wood and gluing soft leather to the top. Then, they took waterproof leather and affixed it to the sole, sewing it to the soft leather as they molded it to fit Kylian’s foot. The boot was then sprayed with a waterproof coating. Afterwards, they repeated the process for the second boot. As the boots didn’t have any lacing, they were hard to put on. Laced boots were forbidden, according to the Book of Codes, one of the portions of the Text of Rain - the holy book of the religion. “Thou shalt not make shoes that are easy to get into, for they will discourage one from experiencing the rain on their feet.” The boots were then sprinkled with holy rain, to make them legal to wear. The entire process took around two hours, and the sky was darkening by the time they were done.
The boots were delivered to Kylian, who took out some coins from his pocket.
“That’ll be 85 bronze Chips,” Thyrian said.
“I only have 70. How about I give you a silver instead?” The three main denominations of Chip were silver worth 100 bronze, bronze worth 10 copper, and lowly copper itself. Gold coins were worth 100 silver, but rarely entered the hands of commoners. The coins were around the size of fingernails and had holes in the center, so you could put them on a string for ease of transport.
“I don’t have 15 bronze in change,” Thyrian retorted.
“Ahh, just take them. Your boy, Lutheril, was it? Needs more food. He’s scrawny as a tree, he is.”
“Yes, we do, in fact, work long hours. I suppose he can have a day off once in a while.” Kylian handed Thyrian the silver coin and departed, walking funnily to break in his new boots.
“Welp, boy, I suppose you can take a break for a few days. My next shipment of materials comes next week on Moonday. Also, you should go to church tomorrow on Stormday.”
“I’m tired,” Lou grumbled. “I don’t want to go to church.”
“You haven’t showed up for the past four weeks. Remember Marliman Candlemaker? He didn’t go to church for twenty weeks. On the twenty-first, he disappeared, never was seen again.” Marliman had been well-loved on Rat Boot Street, and spent his Stormdays entertaining the children who were too young to go to church. It had been a tragedy when he had died in a “Freak lightning strike”, but everyone knew that nobody had seen the body or any evidence of his death.
“Fine,” Lou groaned. “But I’ll only come every three weeks instead of every two.”
“Go out and get dinner. Here, your pay,” Thyrian said, giving Lou his daily 30 bronze Chips, which was in addition to the assorted tips he got during the day. Lou put them on his money-string, having coins whose combined worth was an impressive 7 silver, 83 bronze and 4 copper. He tucked the laden rope back into his pocket.
Nice. I’ll have some breaded clams on Van’s street, Lou thought to himself as he donned his raincoat and walked along the rainy street. The rain began to pick up as he walked, a harbinger of Stormday tomorrow.