It was a tiring day at work today. He didn't know how many faces he had seen now, from the ones he had rejected and the ones he let in. He was a guard at the entrance of the Rings. He was the one responsible for letting people from the Rings back inside.
Of course, he also let some outskirt rats inside, even if it killed his heart every time he did. No one liked them, especially guards like him who had to deal with them. It was irritating when they started to beg to be let inside. Or when they tried to bribe him with money, like he didn't make twice what they offered in a day.
Really, it would have been better if the outskirts hadn't existed in the first place. But some rats were known enough to be considered deserving to enter. Of course, this wasn't the only way to enter.
Sponsors, while it wasn't very common to see someone from the outskirts enter this way, it was the fastest. It was a simple process; if someone from the Rings paid for a rat to enter, and that payment was enough for the number of days they were going to be inside, all the outsider had to do was say their name, and if they were on the list, they could enter.
Some sponsors didn't have to pay; most of the time, they were well-known nobles from the Second Ring. A guard like him could never go against their word.
Merchant's Permit was another way for them to enter. But it wasn't the best one for the rats, since the Permits were quite expensive for them. From its name, it allowed merchants to come and sell inside the First Ring, but only for a week; after that, they had to renew it.
There was also the Service Conscription, the third way for people from the outskirts to get inside the Rings, but it's the most dangerous. The people who enter this way are used in dangerous missions, experiments, and others, but are allowed to live without paying.
The last way, and the most common, is just saying the entry and the daily tax. While the entry isn't as expensive as the permit, combined with the tax, it becomes a lot more expensive. And you can't get a merchant permit and not be a merchant, since at the end of the week, you have to give back some of your profit.
These were all the ways people from the Outskirts entered the Rings. He has seen all these methods in person, and he didn't enjoy it one bit.
...
It was close to the end of his shift, just after he had rejected a rat, when he saw a cloaked person approach him. It covered most of his body and casted a deep shadow over his face. But he could see a half mask on his face; it clung to his face like it was part of him, or had become part of him. It looked terrifying; its design looked like the clowns she feared as a kid.
He swallowed as he started to sweat, intimidated.
But when he saw that the figure didn't have a badge, his fear disappeared. Returning people from the Rings were gifted a badge to be easier to recognize. If he saw someone with a badge, all that had to be done was verification, so a rat didn't get through by stealing one.
He was from the outskirts.
But before he could talk, it spoke first.
"I wish to get inside."
He laughed, amused. How many times had he heard this? It never led to anything good. Did these rats never learn?
"Well, it isn't that easy, you know? You have to pay."
The figure didn't respond; it watched, giving him an unsettling feeling.
"I am sponsored."
The guards' brows raised in surprise. Who would sponsor this bastard? But still, even if he didn't believe him one bit, he still had to do his job.
He rolled his eyes, grabbing a list from his pocket.
"Name?"
...
"Aether, Aether Moirai."
He glanced up at the figure. His name, had he heard it somewhere? It seemed familiar, but at the same time, he didn't know where. Could he be a well-known outsider? No, if that were the case, he wouldn't have gotten in by sponsorship. So then, where did he know that name? Either way, it was time to check the list for his name.
His eyes rolled around the paper, paying close attention to each name so he didn't make a mistake; it would be humiliating if he did.
'Aether, Aether, Aether... aha!'
He looked surprised to see that the figure's name was actually on the list. Most lied when it came to sponsorships, so it was quite surprising that the most mysterious person he had met in a long time hadn't lied.
But before he let the figure inside, he looked to see who was its sponsor.
As he read the name, his hands trembled, and he glanced at the figure one last time, completely frightened.
"P-Please come inside."
It nodded, passing by him, entering the First Ring.
He felt relieved, like a massive boulder had been taken off his heart. He looked at the name again, not able to believe his eyes.
"Why would The Jack sponsor that guy?"
The Jack, better known as the third strongest of the Knights, had always been weird; no one was able to anticipate his next step, but this felt outrageous. It was the first time a knight had sponsored an outskirts rat. So, what reason was there for it?
Who was Aether Moirai?
...
...
After getting passed security, Aether took off his hood, finally being able to breathe. He was very nervous; a lot of things could have gone wrong, but luckily everything was all right.
'Never thought I would get into the First Ring this way.'
And never had he thought that J. would help him. He still didn't know much about him, or why he helped him, and still does. Isn't he meant to be under her control?
It was colder than he expected. Not the kind of clod that bit your skin, the kind from the outskirts that crept into your bones ike a parasite, that was heavy enough to make air itself feel like a burden.
The streets ahead were a tangle of blackened stone and iron, hemmed in by walls that leaned just a little too close together. Every building looked like it had been from the same choking furnace, soot-stained bricks, barred in brass windows, the roofs looked to be stuck with pipes that hissed white steam into the air.
He couldn't help but laugh at the thought of being woken up by that sound every day; it had to be irritating.
The road beneath his boots was uneven, made out of cobblestone, and slick with rainwater that caught the dim glow of the lamps overhead. They were metal cages fixed to walls; they flickered every time the pipes shuddered.
He had never seen something like this, not in his childhood or the Withered. Maybe in the Blue Rose, but he had never been there.
A cart rattled past him, which made him turn his head to look at it. Its wheels rimmed in metal, pulled by a horse wearing a mask of polished iron.
His eyes sparkled.
'A horse!'
It had been a long time since he had seen one. He loved them; he even had one to himself when he was a child. His father got it for him for one of his birthdays.
The driver didn't spare him a glance back. No one did, but that didn't make it feel safer. He was considered a rat in this place, the lowest of the lowest; if he died, nothing would happen. And many would be happy to kill him.
To his left, an alley exhaled steam from a vent set into the wall. The hiss was so loud, it drowned out the muffled clang of hammers somewhere, deeper in the district. And made him cover his ears.
The smell of burnt oil clung to the air, mixing with the odor of wet iron.
He looked above, where he saw a network of narrow catwalks crossed between buildings, high enough for guards to patrol without setting foot on the streets.
He scoffed; these fools really didn't want to be on the same level as an outsider like him.
As he moved deeper, the city unfolded in layers: outer streets clogged with merchants selling copper trinkets and roasted nuts from carts bolted with rivets. Inner roads filled with shadows, leading towards the second Ring.
It reminded him a little of the Withered, with people trying to earn their survival, but it was very different. It looked better, that was for sure.
"How do you like it here? Quite nice, huh? The Second Ring is even better."
Aether recognizes that voice, slowly turning his head.
It was none other than The Jack.
He clenched his fists, nervous to see him again.