Waneday, Week 75, Month Octus, Year of God 488

  Rain pattered down around him as Lou briskly walked down Rat Boot Street, pulling his coat around him. He stared happily down at the large string of coins in his hands. Kylian had come in again today, and had tipped Lou an additional 10 bronze Chips more than he usually did. Kylian was wearing through his boots quickly - maintaining the elaborate gutter and sewer system that prevented the buildings of Urbs Sacer from flooding apparently required quite a lot of walking. And standing in mud and garbage, as Kylian regularly ranted about during his fittings. His old boots were always covered with muddy stains that no amount of washing could seem to remove.

  Today’s work had gone on longer than usual, and Thyrian’s shop had received a whopping eight customers today. The duo had done a slightly rushed job on the third man’s boots, and he spent ten minutes cursing and complaining, despite having both paid and put the boots on. He had been escorted out of the shop by a benevolent passerby, but it still had been annoying. Kylian had been the day’s final customer, and, for some reason, he had been especially pleased with the quality of his new pair of boots. He had tipped a significantly larger sum than he usually did, and Lou was excited to spend it on the best clams in town, so to speak.

  The “Best Clams in Town” was the catchphrase of a popular bar and restaurant, The Walrus Man’s Treasure. Catering to lesser Rain Castemen, Wind Castemen and the highest echelons of Earth Castemen, the establishment used only the finest clams from the Yalen District and the choicest mosses from the Garoe District in producing its fine cuisine and beverages. It was located on Golden Emu Street, an upscale shopping neighborhood frequented by off-duty Wind Castemen. Lou had been wanting to go all year, and he finally had some disposable income to do so.

  Lou walked for half an hour from his own neighborhood to this new one, taking in the various shops and residences. Some were familiar, some not, but all felt part of the same city. As he moved closer to Golden Emu Street, the buildings became gradually more and more elaborate and high-quailty. He saw more people using Lux, not just the omnipresent guards that hovered everywhere in the city, but lesser nobles, priests and off-duty soldiers using it for light, heat, speed and other conveniences. Lou’s own inability to use the power of nobility stung him when he received some condescending glances from a passing couple wearing the robes of lesser marquesses. He was a clam on dry land, metaphorically speaking.

  Eventually, he arrived at his destination. The entire front of the building was painted gold, and a Wind Caste attendant was constantly using Lux to ensure that the rain didn’t tarnish the intricately designed exterior of the structure. Elaborately dressed people circulated in and out of the building, making Lou feel self-conscious about his drab grey coat, shirt and pants. Most of the patrons seemed absorbed in conversation or drink, and thus paid him little mind. Gathering up his courage, Lou stepped into the unfamiliar establishment.

  He was immediately bombarded with a wave of sound and light. Loud drumming music echoed around the space, and combined with the loud chatter and bustle of the patrons, the torrent of sound was too much for Lou. He squealed and cowered, covering his ears with his arm. In a second, he felt recovered, and his ears adapted to the sound. He then took in the sight of the restaurant.

  He was standing in an alcove facing a large room that extended to the left and right. Patrons moved around him, some complaining about the fact that he was standing in their way. He quickly got out of the way and entered the room, rain dripping off his coat. He took off his hood to better glimpse the area.

  The left side of the room was dominated by a large bar that ran parallel to the left wall. Patrons sat on gilded stools, slamming down shots of hard liquor or sipping on mugs of mossbeer. In front of the bar were many circular tables that could seat two or three people. Many were occupied, with patrons eating from baskets of food and sipping a variety of drinks, not all of which were alcoholic. Waiters clad in golden robes bustled around, delivering food and refilling drinks.

  The right side of the room could only be described as chaos and debauchery. The drumming from before came from a group of musicians standing against the far wall. While a few banged on humongous drums, one plucked at a string instrument and another puffed on a flute. Dozens of people writhed and danced to the music, most of whom were visibly drunk. They moved like a nest of snakes, dancing and moving with each other. Several people were off to the side of the chamber, engaging in more private actions. Lou’s cheeks reddened as he turned towards the left side of the room. He mustered his courage and walked towards the bar.

  Abruptly, he was stopped by a waiter whose hood was up. The waiter proffered a tray to Lou. “Want a free cigar?” he asked, gesturing to the dark cylinders on the tray.

  “No thanks,” Lou replied. “Don’t want to ruin my lungs.”

  The man chuckled. “I get you. Say, is your name Bart, by any chance?”

  “Bart?” Lou asked, incredulous. “I’m an Earth Casteman, my name is Lutheril.”

  “I’m a bartender,” the man said, throwing up his free hand. “It’s my duty to end the life of anyone named Bart. Get it?” he said. He chuckled. “Just kidding. This job gets stressful sometimes, and it’s nice to talk to a person who values his health more than debauchery, especially one of a lower Caste.”

  “Where’s the menu?” Lou asked, nonplussed by the man’s strangeness. “I assume you work here.”

  The man grunted. “Above the bar. Say, I know you.” He removed his hood, revealing a memorable face Lou hadn’t seen in over a year. He was an elderly man with a massive moustache and no Caste tattoo.

  “Nevos!?” Lou asked in surprise. “This is where you work?”

  “This is indeed where I work,” Nevos replied. “And before you ask why people don’t notice my lack of tattoo, I either keep my hood up or else everyone is too drunk to notice it.”

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  “I see,” Lou said. “Anyway, do you have any recommended food or drinks I should try?”

  Nevos put down his tray and clapped his hands together. “Excellent question, my boy. I’m partial to the glazed rat steak with a side of riced emeraldmoss and a basket of fried clams with red dipping sauce. To drink, I’d recommend a nice glass of Meringer’s Centurion mossbeer or some Dorneyon green wine.”

  “Thanks,” Lou said, heading towards the bar. He glanced above the bar, and indeed, there was a menu hanging from the ceiling. He decided that he would spend no more than one silver Chip on food. He looked at the menu and calculated the price of the meal that Nevos recommended. He shuddered as he realized how expensive the food was. The meal put him back five-and-a-half silver. He picked a different option - fried clams and red sauce, with some Dorneyon green to drink. This cost 97 bronze and 4 copper. He paid and placed his order with the bartender, then found an unoccupied table to sit at. He had been assigned a number, and when his food was done, it would be called and he would go pick it up.

  He sat at the table, taking in the sights and sounds of the Walrus Man’s Treasure. He watched a young Rain Caste couple enter the establishment, then start yelling at each other. They eventually split apart. The man remained behind, heading to the dance area, whereas the woman exited. Lou’s gaze swept over the chamber. He got tired of staring and looked down at the table. After a few more minutes, his order was called. He stood up and walked to the bar, where he picked up a plate of steaming clams. The savory scent wafting from them overpowered Lou, and he sighed in happiness from the always-delicious smell of breaded clams. The red sauce looked delicious, and the wine did so as well. Lou brought his meal back to the table, and he picked up a clam in his hands, dipped it in the sauce, and began to chew it.

  After a few minutes, Lou realized that he was just eating clams and sauce - a classic meal that one could get anywhere in the city. Sure, the ingredients used here were fresh and high-quality, but Lou could get this meal three-fourths as good for one-fourth of the price. He laughed to himself. Why did he come here? He didn’t like socializing with people he wasn’t familiar with. He should have brought Van, but he was celebrating his little sister’s birthday tonight. He sighed, shoving the last clam into his mouth. He downed his wine, then licked the bowl of dipping sauce clean. He was just standing up when a firm hand gripped him on the shoulder ahd shoved him back down.

  “Gah!” Lou shouted. “Let go!”

  “I have to talk to you,” said the voice of Nevos, who the hand presumably belonged to. He removed his hand from Lou’s shoulder and leaned down, coming into Lou’s vision.

  “What is it?” Lou asked.

  “It’s about religion,” Nevos replied nonchalantly. Lou tensed. Religion was not a subject one normally talked about outside of church.

  “What about it?” Lou asked. “Why would we need to discuss religion? The God of Rain blesses us all; we can take that fact for granted.”

  “There is no God of Rain,” Nevos whispered. The abruptness of that statement shocked Lou to the core. Nevos had blatantly admitted to being a heretic. Maybe he was a heathen spy, coming to the Theocracy to undermine it! That would explain his lack of tattoo.

  Before Lou could shout out, Nevos covered the young man’s mouth with his hand. “No need to shout, and probably nobody here would care anyway. Now, to elaborate.”

  Lou nodded vigorously. “Pmssh mmph,” he said around Nevos’s hand.

  Nevos elaborated. “There is a god of rain, but not the God of Rain. This god is an impostor.”

  Emotion coursed through Lou. He believed in the God, but this man’s words didn’t feel wholly wrong. They touched something inside of him.

  “That sounds kind of suspicious, I know,” Nevos continued. “But our kingdom is only a tiny drop in the vast ocean that is the universe.”

  “As your holy texts tell you, this world wasn’t always livable. The being you call the God of Rain did create it. But it was under the control of humans from the lands beyond our world. It obeyed their whims, and turned this planet we live on from a lifeless ball of rock into one positively dripping with life. Then, one day, the God of Rain turned on its creators and butchered them all. It also severed humanity here’s connection to the greater human civilization.” He removed his hand from Lou’s mouth.

  “Why are you telling me this? And why should I believe you?” Lou asked, quietly but intently.

  “Because this impostor God created the holy texts. It’s under the illusion that both human sacrifice and extreme flooding will enhance its power. Where it got that notion from, I have no bloody idea. It wrote an excuse suggesting that when the third son of a fourth son of a fifth son is born to the Rain Caste, the Lux-using nobility will sacrifice thousands of commoners to the God to ensure that the nobility achieve salvation.”

  Lou shuddered. All of a sudden, he remembered something his father had mentioned to him when he was four or five: “You’re our third son, I’m the youngest of four, and my father had four older brothers. My Grandpa was an odd sort. He had the tattoo of our caste, but it was overlaid over a brand and another tattoo. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that this references scripture.” He had been drinking heavily at the time, still grieving over Lou’s older brothers Rolandin and Caladayv both dying of fungus infections. Lou didn’t remember them very well, but his father had taken the loss hard.

  “Wait… Damn it, that sounds like something I heard in church a while back!” Lou gasped.

  “Ex-act-ly!” Nevos said, pronouncing each syllable triumphantly. “Your great-grandfather was a Sun Casteman who survived, then was promoted to Earth Caste. He and his wife loved each other very much and had lots of babies, and the rest is history.”

  “Hang on…” Lou said. “If you claim that God isn’t real, then why do you claim that prophecy from the holy texts is real? Also, I’m Earth Caste! None of the blood in my body is Rain Caste!”

  “I don’t intend to claim that the religious nature surrounding your existence is real,” Nevos said. “But the clergy will interpret it that way. They’ve been waiting for an opportunity to kill you folks for hundreds of years, and if they learn of you, it will provide a convenient excuse to do so. Of course, all the bloodshed will do nothing, as the impostor God can’t grant salvation or do really much of anything beside maintain the planet’s ecosystems, but its worshippers don’t care.”

  “How do you know all this?” Lou asked.

  “I’m sneaky!” Nevos said. He jerked suddenly, as if he had been suddenly reminded of something. “Oh, that reminds me. I have to leave. Goodbye!” Abruptly, the elderly man stood up and speedwalked out of the restaurant. Lou was reeling. What had just happened to him?

  Shaking himself, he stood up. Combined with the noise and the lights, the old man’s heretical rant felt like a fever dream. But it had happened. Was this man correct? Or was the entire event just one huge non sequitur that would have no impact whatsoever on Lou’s life? The question weighed heavily in his mind as he exited the restaurant and began to walk home.