Collecting Loose Ends

[Sebastian Stalinsa]

Season fall, Day 31, Year 512 The house was of three hearty stories, made of red brick and rich dark wood. It had tall thick windows rounded at the top, some open to the autumn breeze others closed by thick shutters. The roof was tapered to a sharp point like the prow of a ship with a squat rounded tower protruding from the front and an open balcony above. It looked to Sebastian like an old warrior falling into himself from age still griped with past memories of valor that lent a little stiffness to his failing spine. A low wall extended from the house’s right containing a small expanse of wilted flowers, pebbled pathways, and a gray stone bench beneath the branches of a gnarled apple tree heavy with ripe fruit. The land around Zeltiva was unsuitable for agriculture and only the hardest of plants made their home upon its steep mountains and barren hills. The city itself relied entirely on whatever the sea provided and the rare caravan or shipment of trade goods. An apple tree then was something to see indeed and Sebastian’s mouth as he imaged the crisp sweet taste. It was on Madam Zana’s request he was here in West Street today. Having traversed though most of Zeltiva during his first few days within the city, Sebastian remembered West Street as a clean tidy expanse of large neatly stacked buildings belonging to respectable businesses and well-to-do residences. He’d heard the name West Street had nothing to do with its placement of direction but, was giving to firmly separate itself from the unwholesome rabble of its eastern counterpart. West was for the rich and important, or those with more money than sense, and the shops certainly promoted such thoughts with prices that would give thriftier a heart attack. It was, Sebastian remember, nearly the opposite of East Street in every way and why he hadn’t taken root in such a place Sebastian wasn’t sure. There was a lot of Syliras here, order, prosperity, cleanliness, respectability. It didn’t have the proud militaristic feel of the knights but, the remains of ancient structures from times forgotten gave the quarter a sense of lineage the Sylirans only claimed to possess. With this in mind Sebastian had rinsed the grim from his clothes the day before and risen early to bath, shave, and do the best he could to make himself respectable with the little he had. There’d been a time when he’d worn silk and lived in castles and maybe he’d do the same again, but for now it was East Street for him and all the grimy rats both metaphorical and literal that came with it.