The Tower of Emnu

Aaron paused on the roof above the brothel’s attic he had hidden in and scanned his surroundings with all of his senses. He could see just as well in the dark than in daylight and after scanning the roofs once with his sharp gaze he did a once over with his other senses. His sense of smell was almost overwhelmed from the perfumes and chemical smells, from sweat and other bodily fluids, including blood. He paused in his scan and scented the air for the smell of blood. There was a distinct coppery smell coming from one of the casinos and Aaron took the time to concentrate on it. He closed his eyes for a moment and his ears picked up the holler of a crowd, shouts and dull sounds of fists hitting flesh. An arena of some sort? Faintly he heard the voice of a man shouting over the crowd:

“...Right hook, what a punch by Martinez, Kasatru is reeling. Where is the level difference now? Like I always say, Murs, reach is not amplified by higher levels.”

“You are so right, Mike, but what is amplified is how much you can take. Kasatru is on the defensive, but the big man can take quite a punch. That is what guardians are good for after all. Defensive. Ohhh, head slip into a body shot. Martinez felt that for sure.”

Aaron could not help himself and smirked. Was that actually a boxing match? He idly wondered how he would do in that ring, but it was likely that with his two katas he would wipe the floor with everyone in the entire town and it probably would not even be a contest. Still part of him wanted to go down there and fight right now. He had the sudden irrational urge to join that ring. He even balled his fists, ready to fight. Aaron paused and then took a step back mentally. Where was this coming from? He felt into himself and tried to discern his own feelings. Something he was still very much unfamiliar with. But he figured it out relatively quickly. It was part of the fiend-god art, wanting to prove himself, wanting to show he was the strongest and the will to fight came also from his fist kata. A challenge, but also the need to train and improve himself. How much could he learn if he fought a few matches down there? He had so little experience with fighting with his hands. Aaron decided that those feelings were fine, just not at this moment and he pushed them aside. He excluded the bloody ring from his senses, or at least tried to and finished his sweep of the rooftops.

He paused as his mana senses picked something up on both sides of the red-light district. He froze on the roof, ducked lower until the wet scent of shingles tingled in his nose. He was not alone on these rooftops. He stretched his mana sense and felt them, faint echos. They were hidden behind a chimney and inside of an alcove he could not see. When he focused hard he could hear the two men breathing. Damn, he had almost missed this. All the noise and scents that were coming from below had masked them even to his senses. Carefully and slowly Aaron crawled over his roof and then jumped over an empty backyard away from the red-light district. He moved slowly, checked everything in the vicinity twice before he kept moving. Aaron did a large circle around the red-light district, jumping from one dark roof to the next until he could see the red-lights districts entrance. A big red vaguely Chinese looking red gate marked the entrance, a fact he had not been able to see from his vantage point on the other end of the cul-de-sac.

The intersection branched out into 3 other roads coming towards the district and the streets were bustling with activity. Men and women in armor or in plain clothes moved along an impromptu flea market. Trinkets, herbs, ingredients and clothes were sold. And above all else there were street food vendors. Aaron inhaled the scent of hot, freshly brewed tea, sugar and candied fruit, spicy fragrant aromas of sizzling meat and all kinds of dishes he barely had an inkling of. It all blended into an enticing aroma of deliciousness. Suddenly Aaron felt how hungry he was. The lingering stomach pain that was his perpetual hunger reared its ugly head and Aaron could feel himself salivating at the delicious smells. But he could not just go down there right? It was dangerous. He could be spotted...he…

There was a dark alleyway between two houses right in front of him, barely wider than his shoulders were wide and it was quiet in the alley. Only a solitary junkie squatted in the refuse at its end, groaning slightly. His irregular breath and the weird chemical odor made it likely the junkie was higher than a kite at the moment. Aaron could not help himself and was halfway down the building towards the dark alley before he could stop himself. What was he doing? His stomach growled. He controlled himself and stared out into the well lit street, where lamps of magical or common origin banished the encroaching darkness. It was a night market, a bustling place filled with people and delicious food. His whole being urged him to go there and feast. How long had it been since he had a decent meal, since he had some spices? Since he had sugar. He had not eaten anything the entire day and the hole in his stomach felt even deeper and more insatiable than usual. The proximity to the food made it so much harder to resist. Aaron swallowed. There were plenty of good reasons to stay hidden in the dark, but on the other hand, he could just explore while mixing into the crowd. He could listen and more importantly he could ask questions, right?

His passive approach had not yielded him quite as much as he had hoped and he needed to find someone who knew what he wanted to know and be easily abducted. He could find out some stuff from the customers and the vendors. He… He wanted to try those skewers that smelled simply heavenly. The spices wafted up to Aaron weakening his resolve. Damn it. Aaron let himself fall to the ground silently in the darkness. He checked on the junkie, but the man was totally out of it, as expected, before Aaron straightened and stepped out into the light.

There was barely a thought in his mind but this heavenly smelling meat. He went straight to the cart with the skewers that were cooking over an open wood fire giving it an enticing aroma of sandalwood and hickory. Aaron swallowed his saliva and looked at the elderly man preparing the skewers with practiced hands.

“How much for one?”

“3 are one shard.” the man said in a language that Aaron knew was not English, but still understood. With trembling fingers he fished out 3 shards from his money bag and handed them to the vendor. The old man grinned a gap toothed smile and handed him 9 piping hot skewers that were all drenched in some sort of fragrant spicy sauce.

When Aaron bit into the meat he groaned, the spices, the flavor exploded in his mouth, spicy, hot, smokey and delicious. The meat was a bit overcooked and the outside a tad too charred, but it still tasted incredible. Utterly ridiculously tasty. He devoured the first skewer in 3 big bites and was through his second skewer when he really started to appreciate the flavor. The meat was a bit too tough, but not too much for venison. It was just right for skewers and the fatty slightly beefy flavor was complimented by a whole array of spices that Aaron barely cared to discern he was so out of it while enjoying his meal. Aaron ate with big bites and with every bite came back to himself a bit more. He walked away from the cart, his uneaten skewers in one hand, while he devoured one skewer after another with the other. It was so good he felt like crying.

His enhanced sense of taste was torture and bliss at the same time. He could not think while he ate and he was done with all 9 skewers in the span of a few minutes. Only afterwards when his mouth was on fire from the spices and he felt like he had taken a bath in wood smoke he realized he was standing in the middle of the street, surrounded by people.

‘Fuck.’ Some People were staring at him, but most ignored him. Aaron quickly moved on, started walking in a random direction so he would not attract any attention, He really should go back into hiding, but he could not help himself and followed his nose to the next food cart. He bought some filled pastry at the vendor, which were filled with vegetables and sweet and sour sauce. The spice combinations were odd, but they all worked surprisingly well. Too well. With each dish he tried Aaron grew more hungry. After pastries he went back to meat, a mystery meat filled bun that reminded him of Chinese pork buns. It had a slightly garlicky flavor to it and it was piping hot and delicious, the outside crust flaky like a croissant. In short order he tried one dish after another as he walked down the street, his shards vanishing from his pocket as fast as he could walk. He did not care about anything but food in this moment. He stopped in front of a cart that made candied fruits, whose sweet smell had haunted him on his entire food fueled eating binge. The fruits looked suspiciously like apples and without hesitation he got himself one. Aaron bit into the crunchy, sugary outside and was rewarded with a gush of fruit juice that reminded him of a mix of an apple and a pineapple funnily enough. But the sweetness. It took over his whole being for a moment. Never in his life had something sweet tasted so good. It was beyond anything he had expected. His new palate was not used to sweet things. It was too good. Aaron almost cried again as he slowly ate the sugary treat and when he was done he felt emotionally drained. But his stomach was not even half full.

Still the sudden heady sugar rush brought some self control back to him. He stood at one end of the flea market, staring at the stick where the candied fruit had been and swallowed down his saliva. He shook his head forcefully and scanned the street. He had made a mistake by coming down here, but he had not been able to help himself. Immediately he spotted some enforcers with red armband standing nearby, keeping the peace in the night market. But they did not look at him, they stared instead at an approaching guard patrol in the distance, who took one look at the night market and then turned around. The armbanded enforcers sneered at the guards and there was some taunting, but the guards ignored it and soon vanished. The night market itself was filled with people of all ages. Families bringing their children here for a midnight treat, old men sitting on rickety stools sipping what smelled like beer and eating what looked like a noddle soup. Young couples on a date trying the variety of food offered. A group of young men moving through the crowd laughing and joking as they turned left into the real red-light district probably looking for a good time. Addicts and junkies slinking into the same direction, looking beat down or stressed out. But there was no pick pocketing or mugging here. The enforcers were everywhere, their affiliation clearly marked by the armbands and heavily muscled physique as they stood guard at strategic points for at least one street block in every direction.

Aaron spotted bars and restaurants that lined the streets along the intersection, even what looked a bit like a disco, just with the sound of live music coming from the cellar. It sounded vaguely like jazz actually and there was a small queue for that club. There was no electricity, no electronic music, no cars, not even horses or carts. It was all just cobblestone streets and depending on the wealth of the establishment or the visitor they used oil lamps or magical lamps that had strange spell impressions in them that glowed a multicolored light. The clothing of the people was also strangely multifaceted. He saw people in simple shirt and trousers, others in tuxedos and he spotted a whole group of women in Victorian ball gowns leaving a building that echoed of classical music. The dresses could look very old fashioned, but he also spotted a few people with ripped jeans, t-shirts and hoodies. It was like someone had mixed different cultures and time periods in one entertainment district that tried its best to offer something to anyone who visited.

Conscious of the stares he got, Aaron moved to the side, out of the traffic and tried to wrap his head around all the new and different sights he was seeing. His gaze wandered over his immediate surroundings and stopped at the brick wall next to a pub that smelled intensely like spilled beer and alcohol. His blood froze and he would have stumbled if he had not stopped in his tracks. There, at the unassuming wall, someone had hung up wanted posters more than a dozen of them and in the middle of them was a fresh one, whose color had not faded yet. It read:

‘Wanted for Murder:

The Cultivator.

Warning: Extremely dangerous, do not approach under level 10 and with a group of less than 10 people.

Wanted for Mass Murder.

Reward: Dead or Alive, 50 mid grade Mana stones.’

In the center of the wanted poster was a drawing of Aaron’s face, rough, but still impossible to mistake for anyone else. Suddenly he saw all the stares he had gotten in a new light. Had they recognized him from this wanted poster? Had someone already alerted the authorities? Aaron listened for metal on metal, listened for a group of vessels surrounding him. But he could sense nothing like that. Everything seemed to be just the same compared to a few minutes ago. Which meant he still had time. There was a possibility that nobody had spotted him of course, but it was better to err on the side of caution. The thugs ensuring security for the district at least did not seem interested in him in the least.

Aaron hesitated for one moment and then crossed the street towards the wanted posters, stared a moment at his own face and then, after ensuring nobody was looking, he ripped the poster off the wall and folded it before putting it into his belt pouch. He had never before had a wanted poster made about him. Well technically there had been dozens of wanted posters searching for information about some of his murders, but never about him specifically. Until he had been caught because of his own carelessness and the stupid decision for revenge he had never been on the radar of the police. He had been proud of that. But here his face was known, if not his name. His nature was his new nickname. Still better than ‘Reaper’, he had seriously considered back then to pay the journalist that had dubbed him so a visit. He never had of course, but he still remembered the man’s name, address and that he had worked in a small town newspaper that had gotten quoted many times because of the man’s sensationalist articles.

But that past mattered little now and so Aaron pushed those memories aside and tried to focus on his immediate problems. It looked like nobody was looking for him, or at least he had some time until someone noticed and went for the authorities, whoever that might be. The guard or maybe the guild, who knew? So until that happened he was free to peruse and look for someone who could have more information about this criminal organization as well as their leader. Which meant he was free to peruse the night market if he tried to be inconspicuous. Or at least he would probably not do any more damage than he had already done. Aaron let his gaze wander over the different stalls and made a quick plan. He could solve some of his problems right now, starting with his clothes.

He walked out of the small alleyway between buildings next to the bar and reentered the steady stream of people. He bought himself another treat in the form of a long stuffed pita bread, or something looking like it at least and then stopped in front of a vendor selling clothes, having devoured the treat in less than 10 steps. The rotund woman who strutted around like she owned the shop, which she probably did, gave Aaron a look and walked over to him.

“You sir need some better clothes. Apologies if I am too forward, but Climbers such as yourself need to be presentable. Come in, come in, we have all the styles you might want. From Earth casual to Asperian formal wear. Here you might find anything your fashion loving heart desires.”

Aaron was surprised by the woman’s sale pitch. He did not look much like customer materials in his rags of an outfit. Her stand had set up cloth changing booths and had even a few mannequins wearing tuxedos and dresses displaying their goods to the whole crowd. It was a fairly concealed location because of all of the cloth dividers put up around the big cart and the multitude of clothing racks. A talkative shop keeper was exactly what he needed right now especially if they could talk more or less in private.

“Well, I agree, I do need some new clothes. I didn’t have the opportunity to change after the last Climb.” Aaron said with a smile and stepped closer into the improvised shop and out of the bustling street. He felt better being hidden from view with all the wanted posters that must be out there.

“A handsome man like you has probably a date lined up for this beautiful evening no? Don’t you worry, we have what you need!”

“A business date, but yes, how very astute of you, madam.”

The woman smiled at him and did an improvised curtsy, before she showed him to probably the most expensive looking section in her little street side shop.

“A man of status like yourself needs to look his best, especially for business. These are suits of Asperian and Earth Cut or maybe you would prefer some very fancy dress robes, Tower style, that are all the rage in Ambition? Either way you will wow everyone wearing something like this, let me assure you.”

Aaron played along, felt the fabric and decided to gain some more information while he was at it. He was not interested in tuxedos or suits at all though. Too impractical.

“Quite the quality, how come a simple roadside shop like yours is able to offer such goods?” he asked.

The woman preened a bit and her eyes were glowing in enthusiasm.“My sister and I have a shop on Sekrat street, The Sister’s Threads, do come visit us sometimes. We only sell here on special occasions, yes sir. You are lucky to catch us selling here at all.”

Aaron had a hunch to why they were selling here and he gave her a smirk.“Trying to evade guild taxes?”

The woman actually blushed and looked around guiltily.

“Its perfectly legal to sell here and yes, the districts taxes are quite a bit lower than in the rest of the Town. Its simply good business, nothing more and it allows me to offer you some fabulous prices along with those fabulous clothes. Everyone wins.”

“You are quite the business woman. But...doesn’t it make you uncomfortable to sell here...I mean, the red-light district has a bit of a reputation no?” Aaron did not really know much about its reputation, but a woman like this would certainly know about it.

“The front of the district is perfectly normal and nothing… untoward happens here, I can assure you. And as for the back, well… its not polite conversation to talk about it, but as long as you have shards in your pocket they will welcome anyone. Although you might leave with a lot less shards than you would prefer.” she winked at him and Aaron smiled back.

“I don’t think I am going to buy a tuxedo today, sorry, I don’t want to stand out too much and make the meeting awkward. Its just in a bar after all.”

“Something more casual then, I understand. Although you would look quite good in this suit.” She led Aaron to another rack of clothing. The layout of the shop was reminiscent of any clothing shop he had visited in his last life, the clothes were hung up on wooden bars, were laundered and had price tags. Earth culture seemed to have influenced commerce quite a bit he guessed. The woman pointed him to some very fancy looking pants and a button-down shirt in a dark color.

“This you might appreciate, 80% spider-silk thread, water resistant, tough, almost like armor and fashionable as well. Perfect for the Climber with discerning taste. Its also stain resistant, which is always welcome in a bar with drunks walking around, no?” she gave him another wink and this time Aaron was actually considering it. It was for sure on the pricey side, but spider-silk? He did not know if it was a common material and so after a bit of hesitation he felt the fabric. It felt like silk, but it had a toughness to it when he squeezed the material that kept taught even with his superhuman grip.

“Spider-silk…” Aaron wondered and hoped the women would go on about it in more detail.

“Yes, one of the few privileges we get here in the Town, not only mage robes are made out of it, you know. Spider-silk is apparently an exceptional mana conductor and so much cheaper down here since its harvested on the fourth floor. But I am sure someone as powerful as you has long conquered the fourth floor.”

“Can’t say that I have, I am still quite new to all of this, we barely even made it to the third floor.”

“Ah, apologies, you just have the look of a seasoned Climber and don’t worry, we have warrior physique sizes. Let me assure you I have made even the bulkiest man look smart in my clothes. If you want I can also make custom-tailored pieces if you really want to look your best.”

The fourth floor. How interesting. Giant Spiders were par for the course after giant scorpions and snakes on the second floor, but still it gave him an involuntary shiver down his back. He should probably steer the conversation back to what he really wanted to know, although this was quite interesting.

“This might still be a bit expensive for me.” Aaron said as he peered at the price tag. “And I am not really looking for custom-tailored clothes right now. Although I will keep your establishment in mind. I assume you are a vessel then with a Tailor Class or something like that?”

“Me? Oh goodness no, my sister is the Artisan. A miracle worker with her needle. She is close to journeyman you know. Only the highest quality of goods for our shop. But I understand if you don’t want to splurge on an impulse buy. How about this, 30% spider-silk, fashionable and affordable.” she pointed out some jeans and shirts. She looked Aaron over and then picked a few of the clothes and handed them to him, different sizes and color tones, he quickly understood.

“Go on, try them on, feel the fabric, I am sure we have your size.” she pushed Aaron gently towards a changing booth and Aaron complied after a moment of hesitation. Once the cloth curtain was closed he did try the different pants and shirt for size, but he kept talking.

“So, tell me what gave me away as an Earther? You kept steering me to the Earth style cuts, like these jeans.”

There was a pause while Aaron tried on a jeans that was a bit too tight around the hip. But as he tried the next jeans he heard the woman answer.

“Apologies but it is fairly simple to tell you apart, most Summoned from Earth are very nice people, especially towards normal people like myself. You are also used to these booths and price tags. Also you do have an accent to me. The Blessing of Language translates your speech in an earth dialect that I have grown accustomed to.”

“Three strikes eh? Well, I hope I don’t give my fellow Earthers a bad name. I have never been to this district, always too busy with climbing or training. Do they treat Summoned people differently here?”

“Oh no, people from Earth are well liked in the whole Tower, your technology is quite incredible especially without magic. People do look down on your mages though. Its inevitable without growing up with magic. The red-light district is very…. Tolerant to all kinds of people.”

“I bet, but why do the guilds even allow this? Drugs gambling and so on are all illegal anywhere else.”

“Well, I don’t mean to gossip, but its said the Boss of the red-light district has deep guild contacts.” the woman said in a conspiratorial tone. “A guild elders spouse some say, but of course those are only rumors. This little district is tolerated as a necessity. Better to keep the dark side of society in its own corner and let it govern itself. I agree absolutely, although I find the brothels distasteful, its better like this for everyone.”

Aaron had found one pair of jeans that fit well, very well and a shirt to go along with it. Both in dark colors of dark blue and a blackish brown. It was suitable for him and when he stepped out of the changing booth the shopkeeper clapped her hand together.

“Amazing. Now you look just like the gentleman you are, sir.”

He was fairly sure she would have said no matter what but in the end he still decided to buy them, which set him back 5 low grade manastones. Which was still quite expensive in his eyes. Aaron also did not think he would get anything else out of the woman, who was clearly not in the know. The rumor about deep guild contacts were interesting, but not necessarily true. He needed to know more and he was increasingly sure only one of the red armbanded thugs would do the trick in the end. But they all stood or moved around in small groups, so it did not look like a good target for now. But Aaron had time, he could just have a better look at the night market while he looked for an opportunity.

He said goodbye to the shopkeeper and promised her to visit her shop another time, before he walked back out into the night market. She had given him a small bag for his old clothes and he had already armed himself again. His belt with potions, his shard pouch and daggers all prominently visible to anyone. The difference in clothes was palpable. He got far less stares with his proper clothes. Which was interesting, but not that surprising. He looked more like a young man out for a stroll than a haggard survivalist. This was the right setting for this.

The spider silk felt nice and cool on his skin, the inside smooth, the outside slightly rough and the rough surface it shone dimly in the light of the magical lamps. Aaron was close to sighing in contentment just from the change in clothes. His least important sense, sensation was giving him shivers down his back and in an effort to distract himself, Aaron started to saunter towards the intersection, stopping at every food vendor he passed. Every dish was absolutely delicious, not perfectly cooked, his delicate senses picking up bad textures and mostly overcooked meat. But it was still better than unseasoned meat, even when grilled to absolute perfection. During his stroll Aaron kept an eye on the armbanded thugs and tried find someone who would go to relieve himself. But so far he did not have any luck.

He had just passed the intersection, his nose scenting the air like a hunting dog, taking in a whiff of delicious smells from food he had not tried yet, when he heard quick footsteps coming from behind him. A small man, pot bellied and sweating ran like the devil was behind him, his quick panicked breath loud in Aaron’s ears. A second set of footsteps followed the man, way heavier and Aaron turned slowly to see the running man vanish down the straight road out of the red-light district. Then a huge thug stomped after the man, heavily muscled, tall and with a broken nose. The man’s pig like eyes felt too small for his head and he wore a crimson armband and a small array of weapons and potions. Not necessarily an uncommon sight, but a chase definitively was. People stopped and stared, jumped out of the way as the tall brute ran after the pot-bellied man with huge steps that seemed to carry him further than Aaron had thought possible. The thug roared to his comrades.

“Stop him!” The guards at the end of the road fanned out, drawing steel and Aaron could hear the pot-bellied man gasp, turn and run into a sidestreet. The big man followed with a curse.

“Useless idiots.” he roared at the thugs at the end of the street and one of them, looking even more crestfallen than the others apologized.

“Sorry, Mahast.” But the big man did not even hear the apology as he followed the man into the narrow alleyway.

Aaron hesitated for a moment, giving the food in front of him one last longing look and then made his way to follow the chase. It looked like his opportunity had just delivered itself to him.