After refusing to simply accept Halina’s demands, the negotiation that followed was… strangely familiar.
It almost felt like negotiating with the scrapyard salesman back on Earth, except worse. Everything had a general maximum value, but below that there was a world of room. A used alternator might laste you a thousand miles or a hundred times that. Similar logic applied to what she ‘could’ve’ made on the open market if I hadn’t been trading for materials.
After all, she’d been selling off non-nature affinity materials, and those prices had spiked sharply with our purchases, so she’d made more.
In the end, I argued her down to thirty-one thousand. Hardly a victory, since the only thing I was buying was a bit of good will and the safety of her own grand niece and nephews. Hopefully the hunting of my personal sacrifices would make up for it.
Leaving Halina's office, I passed between her green goons and made my way down to the residential ring. While I was there I stopped in, the functionary informing Calbern was still out tracking down his old acquaintance. They also shared rumors of some woman making a commotion, having a swordfight out along the docking ring where several of the ships were berthed. While I had a bad feeling about the timing, I decided I’d wait until I had the details.
At least it wasn't the area Inertia was visiting.
Asking the functionary for guidance, they continued to discuss local gossip as they led me to Inertia and Tresla. It wasn’t too surprising to find the two of them hip-deep in a disassembled skimmer. One that looked similar to those I'd worked on during my time on the Dauntless.
“I’m going out on a limb and guessing you’re going to be busy for a while.” Inertia raised her head, glancing at me as I gestured at the mess. “Was gonna pop down into the Undercity, see if I can’t find Astralis’s tracker.”
Even if the tracker wouldn’t have been useful, I didn’t want to turn up my nose at the Dragon-souled’s ‘generosity’. The whole point of me being in Central was to make nice with Terra Vista, afterall.
Inertia went into a rant about the poor quality of the construction materials used instead of answering, Tresla stepping forward. “You’ve guessed correctly. However, I’d be interested in visiting this ‘Undercity’ with you.”
“Sure. Let’s just grab the old man.” I tilted my head towards the exit, leaving Inertia to her mess.
With Tresla in tow, the functionary helped track down Calbern. He wasn't in the best of states when we bumped into each other. His uniform was technically intact, though there was new ventilation in his left sleeve and his collar was several fractions of an inch out of position.
“Problems?”
“Simply catching up with an old friend,” Calbern refuted, inclining his head slightly.
I didn’t call him on his deflection, catching him up instead. Then with Calbern and Tresla at my side, we descended into the Undercity. “We’re looking for a lizard-folk named Ventus. And this is where he spends most of his time.”
The Undercity turned out to be buried in the lowermost levels. It was even beneath the support enchantment halls, the protected buildings that channeled fresh air and mana throughout the rest of Central Command.
Simply reaching the Undercity required us to take a massive lift. Stepping on around large crates, I couldn’t help but feel it was designed for cargo, not people. Which was further reinforced by the fact that as we went down, crates were moved on and off regularly while people were not. By the time we reached the bottom, the only remaining cargo were five large crates stamped with the sigil of House Fores’thall.
While the upper levels and much of Terra Vista had looked like paradise, when we stepeed off the lift, for the first time since I'd arrived on Ro’an, I felt like I was in a slum.
The simple platform enchantments didn’t even pass the crates over when we hit the bottom, simply sliding the crates over to be caught by crews of people using nothing but raw muscle.
Each crew had over thirty people, all of them straining and swearing as they grabbed the crates and hauled them away from the lift.
One of the crates dropped, nearly crushing several of the workers, causing a sudden outcry. The corner busted open, fresh fruit and grain spilling out. A nearby man in ratty leathers yelled out, and the crate was soon righted. As they recovered, I noted that every single one of them, worker or supervisor, had either a club or knife at their waist.
In addition, most had a hammer and chisel marking on the back of their clothing or tattooed on exposed flesh. Of which there was a lot.
It wasn’t the only thing there was a lot of. The Undercity seemed to collect heat and stench as much as these folk collected primitive weapons.
The Undercity wasn’t the roughest conditions I'd seen on Ro’an. That was reserved for some of the villages we’d passed through. Still, it had a sort of grunge to it that reminded me of those places in town where things got worse with each generation, where no one had enough to get ahead. Considering the wealth just a few hundred meters above, the state of the shanty town we were passing through didn't say great things about the Risen Council’s local governance.
That this was where the tracker had decided to spend their time when they weren't on duty… well, I was wondering how useful they’d be.
Whatever the tracker’s reasons, the functionary who’d been guiding us refused to go any further. They pinched their nose while remaining next to the lift until they finished casting a spell to push the smell away. Then they informed us in a high-pitched voice that another functionary would be waiting for us each time the lift descended. Tugging at their robes as if worried they might track the filth with them, they climbed back aboard the lift, disappearing into the light.
With the light from the lift blocked, the paler illumination of weak enchantments was all that was left. A lot of which were in such rough shape, they flickered with alarming regularity.
Even as the functionary was leaving, I cast shields for myself, Tresla and Calbern, giving us all a break from the heat and stench.
“This is a rather poignant area, is it not, Master Percival?” Calbern asked, carefully shuffling around some of the garbage that’d fallen into our path. For the moment we were simply following the convoy of people. The broken crate had been lowered, and was being split up before being hauled further in. Figured there might be a market or something where we could ask after Astralis’s hunter.
“Not everything is as well kept as the High Council would like to have people believe, it seems,” Tresla noted from beneath her hood.
Before I had a chance to respond we were accosted by a group. At first I wasn’t sure what sort of group they were. Then I noted the markings from earlier, along with the weapons. Only then did it click. They were a gang.
I hadn't had to deal with gangs before. The town I grew up in was too small while Perth’s family had been the closest to a gang he’d known.
Their leader was an elf with the top of his ears torn off. In fact every elf in the gang seemed to have had their ears torn or sawed off along the top, making them round. Not the most pleasant gang marking.
“Your sort don't belong down here,” the elven lead said, making a motion back towards the lift.
“We're looking for someone,” I replied, gesturing inwards through the rough buildings, “a tracker by the name of Ventus.”
“Don't know no tracker named Ventus.”
“I think he means old scale head there, boss,” one of the other gang members said.
"I know what he means, Poppers, you idiot,” the elf in the lead, turned back to me, his eyes narrowed. That was when I realized he was probably trying to hit me up for a bribe of some sort. I’d never done bribes before. Thought that was the sort of thing that only happened in movies. How did you even bribe someone?
Thankfully Calbern stepped forward while I was still trying to guess the appropriate etiquette for bribing. Some Waves changed hands as Calbern took over the conversation.
“Right then, Poppers, you wanna run your mouth, you can lead ‘em,” their gang boss said once an agreement had been reached.
“Right’o, boss man.” Just like that, we were following Poppers deeper into the slums, away from the flow of traffic.
I couldn't help but note how many people were being left to rot. There were people sitting on the top of buildings, half-clothed, eyes lazily watching us as we passed.
In addition to the foul air, the water I saw one kid drinking was so brown I thought it was juice at first. The only thing they seemed to have were those food delliveries.
A couple of enchantments, and the entire place would be so much better. Wouldn't do much to help them get more sun though. Judging by the paleness of the people watching us pass, it’d been a while since any of them had seen it.
It didn't take long to find the tracker with Poppers leading the way. In the shade of one of the hollowed out food crates, Ventus was tending to a young elven boy's wounds. They were wrapping them with bandages, of all things. It was… archaic. The bandages weren’t even enchanted.
The tracker was a lizardfolk similar to Tarnibus. The scales didn't have the same iridescent luster. Wasn't sure if that was just a Tarnibus thing or if Ventus was a different type of lizardfolk altogether. He looked up as we approached, his close-set eyes immediately switching from Poppers to Tresla, Calbern and finally settling on me. “What are ya sorts doing in the undercity?”
“Astralis said that we could find his tracker here. Told me to make use of you. Wanted you to lead us on a hunt.” I explained, even as my eyes tracked over the community, the many faces staring blankly at us.
The scales over his eyes tightened and he looked away as he returned to the bandaging. “Can’t. Got more important work to do. I’ll come get ya tomorrow.”
“Would you maybe want help with that?” I asked, stepping forward. I’d been itching for an excuse to help. Ventus insisting he wanted to take care of the kid first… well, it made it easier to offer.
Ventus looked at me, the scales over his eyes raising once more as he tilted his head slightly towards the elven boy. "Ya some sort of doctor? Maybe got a heal that'll ease the pain?"
“Yeah you could say that,” I replied as I kneeled down next to him. The child looked between us. The waryness hurt. It didn’t help that I couldn't simply fix a lot of injuries. Not on a kid, not if I didn't want to mess with the boy's growth. Still, as long as we were just dealing with a scuffed knee, there was stuff I could do.
The simplest and safest was using my old spell, Minor Heal. While most of the rest of my magical healing wasn’t safe on kids, Minor Heal was meant to ease pain and minor injuries. Not make big changes.
Neither the tracker nor the kid seemed prepared for me to break out magic that immediately fixed the wound. The elven kid reached up, not down to the knee. His hand stroked the side of his head, running over ears that’d been covered by his dark hair. Ears that showed scar tissue, but had clearly been affected by the spell.
Minor Heal wasn't enough to completely restore the scarring. It was surprising it’d affected it at all. Despite the fact I’d applied it locally, it seemed I hadn't accounted for the extra oomph being Hydra-souled would add to the cast. Hopefully it wouldn’t leave the kid with side effects.
"You're a real healer then," Ventus said, pushing to his feet. "More than what I can offer these folks. Ya want to help me out? We can be out of here early, if’n you’re willing to do the work."
I looked around at the slowly gathering crowd and realized I was in for a bit of mana expenditure. The blank look had transformed into expressions I’d seen far too often on the faces of the refugees.
They were crowding in, murmurring running throughout. One of them split off, running to spread the word. Seemed our hunt was going to be delayed. I was almost grateful. Their leaders had neglected them. Wasn't like I was going to turn a blind eye. Not when a night of my time could make a difference.
I wiped my hands, already searching the crowd. “Who’s next?”