Honey Amber

This is a wip for this contest. Tips are appreciated!
By VoidtheSpacewing and Dust Gremlin
<tabber>
|-|Prologue=
==Prologue==
Mila jumped through the forest.
It was much faster to hop than run, because she wasn’t exactly the best at avoiding rocks and fallen trees and such, especially in the dark. Jumping was made for her—between her tininess and the fact that her short black hair didn’t stream out the back of her helmet like a normal heroine’s. It wasn't likely she would get caught in any low-hanging branches.
Roggie had given her the modified roller skates for her birthday six months ago. He had replaced the wheels with horizontal fans that sensed the density of the air around them. They would adjust accordingly when the wearer got uncomfortably high or low.
They weren’t working the best at the moment, what with the smoke and fire and all, but as long as she stayed balanced and didn't collide head-on with various flora, she hoped she would be fine. The forest wasn’t that big, and it was only a few more minutes to the boulder at the cliff’s edge.
The Boulder.
The three of them—Roggie, Amber, and herself—had been meeting there since...always. It was perfectly in the middle of nowhere, exactly how all of them liked it, and no one had to walk—or hop—too far to reach it. Any time one of them had urgent business to discuss, they would send a message to the others, and all three would know to meet up there as quick as they could.
Today, she had very, very urgent business, and she hoped the other two would already be there by the time she arrived.
Both her friends came from the city—on the other side of the canyon—so their route took them across the Bridge to Nowhere. 
Or rather, under.
They would climb down the cliff-face to a net about a third of the way down. With the mist from the rapids below, it was barely visible from above, and had remained unnoticed by the bridge patrols for a couple years now.
The net stretched all the way across the canyon, to the cliff edge directly below the boulder. After they reached the other side, they would just have to climb a little upwards to be there.
Mila, on the other hand, had to tramp through half a mile of forest—as the crow flies—from the outskirts of her village to the clearing with the fallen willow. Under the willow, were the two neatly-hid tunnels that literally took her off the edge of the cliff.
One was dark and dry and led to a ledge on the right of the boulder. She always used that one to get back to the forest.
The other had a spring running through it, and opened above the boulder and the net, where the spring would become one of many tiny waterfalls cascading down the cliffside.
This was the tunnel she would hopefully reach any second now.
Before the flames caught up with her.
Mila glanced behind her, and—like anyone being chased by fire—was dismayed with how much closer it had gotten. If she died, not only would she be, well, dead, but the last of the steluccus would be gone forever.
Maybe she should have let it burn with the rest. That’s what her people had done. Anything was better than leaving a chance the Empire could get it. Right?
Was she making the right choice?
Would “anything” have really meant destroying the generations of work her ancestors had put into cultivating the steluccus?
Amber and Robbie were trustworthy, and she wouldn’t even need to tell them everything. They were friends, and the fact that the weird blue plant was important to Mila should be enough for them.
The clearing appeared rather suddenly, another reason being tiny tended to help Mila. At the speed she was going, the willow branches would’ve decapitated a normal person, but she was so short, she just slid under them into the channel of water.
Once inside, she had a little more time to think, and to realize the sprig of steluccus in her pocket probably shouldn’t be completely submerged in water. She quickly pulled it out and started blowing on it, pretending like that would actually help the poor plant.
Steluccus was everything to the village. They ate it and spun its fibers and decorated their homes with it. It worked perfectly as tinder and made wonderful medicines and painkillers. If it was left to grow long enough, its branches could even be used to make furniture. Most of the houses they lived in were built using its long stalks.
But now her people had turned their back on it. They had burned the whole village to the ground, including every single garden and steluccus plot. She still could barely believe it. What would they do without the steluccus? What could they do without the steluccus?
There was a dot of light she was quickly floating closer to, and the sound of the rapids was getting louder. Mila realized she would need both hands free once she left the tunnel. She carefully stuffed the steluccus cutting in a higher pocket on her vest and prepared to jump.
This was the best part of her journey.
The second the water dropped out beneath her, she jumped off the end, swerved to her right, and grabbed onto the last bit of the tunnel mouth. Then, she let go.
Fell.
And neatly landed on the boulder below, with the absorbing soles of her boots kicking in before she hit the stone and slipped on its water-drenched surface.
She jumped off the big rock onto the little ledge it sat on and was immediately engulfed in a hug.
“Hello, Amber,” she smiled. “Is Roggie here yet?”
“He can’t come. He sent me a message, and he’s with a customer right now. You know how busy it gets at sundown.”
“Oh, okay. That’s alright.”
It wasn’t.
She doubted she would see anyone from the city again for a long time, if not forever. She had hoped she would be able to say goodbye before she left.
Amber coughed mockingly. “Important business…?”
“Oh, right. Here.” Mila handed her the sprig of steluccus. Amber was confused.
“What is it?”
“You’ll see,” Mila responded. Amber turned it over and squinted at it. “Be careful! It's special and this is...the last of it. We burned the rest. Anything to make sure they don't get it.” Mila looked at a waterfall rushing past, trying to get her face under control.
“So they did invade. Hmmm, I saw their transports arrive with the cargo train this morning, but I thought they’d stop and regroup before doing anything. I never imagined they’d attack you so soon.”
Mila just nodded, still looking away.
“That’s so...crazy. They have enough territory to form a small moon. Why would they attack you?” Amber asked it almost rhetorically, but Mila turned and pointed at Amber’s hands.
“It's because of the steluccus, I think. That’s why I need you and Roggie to take care of it for me. I have to stay with my people. The Empire’ll be hunting for us, so they need me now more than ever.”
“I understand.” She paused. “ Why is it so special? What does it do?”
“Everything,” Mila whispered. “Just, please protect it.”
“I will, don’t worry.
A blur of movement caught Amber’s attention. Mila saw her look towards the bridge and turned to see. A black rifle was silhouetted against the brightness from the lights of the bridge as it slowly fell into the mist. Mila looked up and gasped.
Imperials were escorting covered train cars to the forest side of the canyon. There weren’t any tracks on the road, but the soldiers had fitted fans—not unlike the ones on Mila’s feet—on the sides of the containers and were carefully guiding them across. If she craned her neck, Mila could see a couple hundred soldiers on their side of the canyon “parking” the carriages and unloading equipment, presumably weapons.
“Oh no,” Amber said under her breath. Mila paled.
“I-i have to go.” She bent down and fumbled with the controls on her boots.
“Oh Mila, s-stay alive.” Amber frowned, trying not to cry. Mila stood up and bounced a little as the fans adjusted.
“You know it!” Then she sobered. “As long as you do too.”
“I’m not the one in danger.” Amber shook her head. “You need to keep safe.” She hugged her friend one last time.
“G-goodbye Mila,” she called as Mila jumped off. Mila looked back.
“G-goodb—”
But the rest was drowned out in the sound of the river.
|-|Part 1=
==Part 1==
~3 months later~
“Anytime!” Amber called, as Mrs. Gracebier waltzed out the door with a box of her grape turnovers. 
The door banged behind her, and Amber winced as she heard the glass of the bell slam against the glass of the windowpane. She sighed and walked over to check it. There were still no cracks, but that was only because she had put this bell up a week ago.
The one before it had shattered after a month, so it didn’t hurt to be too careful.
It was a shame glass was such a huge part of the decor in her bakery. It had been Roggie’s idea, along the lines of “fancy people like sparkly things”, and “who doesn’t want plenty of rich patrons buying their food and keeping their business open”?
He had been right, to a certain extent, and it certainly could be worse. Her bakery looked polished and professional, and the apricot-colored faerie lights in the tabletops and globe chandeliers made the atmosphere warm and calming, exactly how she liked it.
The best part was, the shop faced west, so, every evening, the sunset would shine through the glass in the prettiest colors imaginable. It almost made her believe there was good in the world.
Then she would sigh, close the orange-gold curtains, and lock up for the night.
She was about to do exactly that when she heard a noise from the alley behind her shop. It sounded a bit like someone crashing into a couple of metal trash cans with a unicycle. She rolled her eyes and went to greet her guest.
“Hello, Roggie dear, do come in,” she exclaimed sweetly, holding the back door open. “I heard some thunder a couple seconds ago. You’d better hurry inside before the rain hits.”
“How long have you been waiting to say that?” He replied, picking himself up.
“Ever since I took the garbage out this morning. You really should watch where you’re going. You could get hurt someday.” He held up his arm and glared at her. “Oh my, I’d better get some ice. That looks painful.”
She whisked him into the kitchen and pulled out a bag of ice and a roll of cloth.
“Thank you,” he said sarcastically as she tossed him the ice and started unwinding the bandages.
“See, if you’d walked here like a normal person...”
“If I had a sane cousin who actually cared about me and my hobbies—”
“—You wouldn’t be alive,” she finished for him. “Do you remember the glider incident?”
“They would’ve worked if there hadn’t been a building in the way!” He protested.
“Hmmm, yes. It’s a shame there are so many of those in cities.” She cut a bit of gauze off with a jerk of the knife on her finger.
“Oh shut up, you’re making my arm hurt.” She smiled back angelically and helped him put the bandage on.
“All better?” She asked.
“As much as it can be.” He tested it out a little. “Let’s go to the roof.” She agreed and turned to put the bandage roll down. When she looked back, Roggie was already halfway to the stairs. She raced after him, pushing off with her fake arm and vaulting next to him on the steps.
“You should make yourself one of these. They really do come in handy.” She pointed to the mint-and-grey prosthetic where her right arm should have been.
Roggie had given her the robotic arm three months ago, a couple days after she had seen Mila for the last time.
Oh Mila. Amber hoped with every fibre of her being Mila was okay. If her best friend was injured, or...worse, she’d never even know.
She couldn’t just bury Mila away like Roggie had seemed to do, no matter how hard.
Mila—especially the day she left—would stay with Amber forever.
What happened that night refused to fade away and become a normal memory, popping out at the most inconvenient times. She couldn’t control it; she would just fade out of reality for a moment, relive a tiny bit of that night, and blink back into consciousness before anyone else noticed.
It happened for the first time in a week as she ran up the steps to the roof.
Amber waited for a long moment after Mila disappeared, staring into the mist. Then, slowly, she climbed down to the net and started spidering across it. About halfway across, something to her right caught her eye. She came closer to see better, and realized it must be the gun she and Mila had watched fall, now trapped in the net. It was making some weird sounds, and spasming like crazy, so—still holding onto a bit of the net with her dominant hand—she reached out with her right. She strained and just barely grasped the handle—
—and it blew up.
Roggie said afterwards it must’ve been some malfunction caused by the 40-foot fall the rifle, but Amber was convinced it had been affected by some magic in the stellucus. Whichever it was, the small burst of power was enough to vaporize her right arm to the shoulder, and scar the left half of her face.
It had also caught the rope of the net on fire, and her dash to the other side had been a bit harrowing.
Climbing up the cliff was just as challenging, but—fortunately—she was left-handed, so it wasn’t as difficult as it could’ve been.
At the top, she had time to tie the sleeve of her jacket in a knot, for a makeshift bandage, then promptly fainted.
When Roggie found her Roggie took her to the hospital and got her a room, explaining her injury as part of a car accident—the best excuse he could think of on the spot.
He waited patiently for a week until she regained consciousness, spending his time building the prosthetic arm for her. Making the arm itself had only taken two days, but then he got bored, so he’d added all the extra features to make it more “bearable” for Amber, including the unrealistic color scheme.
Once she woke up, Amber loved the arm anyways, but was less happy with the way the doctors had fixed her face. It was too artificially perfect, so after she was released, she’d asked Roggie if he could do anything. He found one of his friends willing to remove the plastic surgery, and together, they implanted some mint wiring to cover up some parts of her face around her eye—which had remained intact—and down her neck.
Because Roggie was Roggie, the wiring also gave her the ability to see infrared, and—although she rarely used it—Amber was extremely grateful to her cousin for everything.
Without Roggie, she didn’t know how she’d survive.
|-|Part 2=
==Part 2==
The terrace above the bakery was as pretty as a picture, almost as stunning as the floor below at dusk. Black railing surrounded the little square rooftop, and a couple flower pots were sprinkled along the border. In the center, three smokestacks stretched from where her oven was three stories below. Standing next to them were three black stools and a rolling table, the only furniture on the level.
“I pride myself in my craftsmanship,” Roggie said mockingly, as they reached the top of the steps. “But I’m glad everything still works. At least one person appreciates my amazing talents.”
Amber flexed the fingers on her prosthetic. “I’m sure the Empire would be very grateful to you if they realized you were the one who invented that fan-tech they’ve started using,” she reassured him—just as sarcastic—as she moved to lean on the railing.
“I don’t know what’s worse: that Old Bulaffo swiped the idea from me, or that the Empire came in and stole it from him.” Mr. Bulaffo was the owner of the garage Roggie worked at. Roggie had been tinkering during his lunch break with another pair of roller skates after the ones he made for Mila turned out so well.
Unfortunately, he was using equipment from the garage, so technically Mr. Bulaffo had the right to take the boots after he caught Roggie, and took full advantage of the opportunity to do so. Roggie was a bit of a genius when it came to mechanics and electricity, and everybody knew it. Since the fan-tech incident, Mr. Bulaffo had been trying his hardest to legally confiscate anything Roggie made, and Roggie had been trying his hardest to make sure this never happened.
“Well, it’s too bad he didn't swipe your stupid—”
”Why do you hate that thing so much?” Roggie laughed. He paused. “Oh, by the way, Noilio promoted me again.”
“That’s awesome! What are you now, assistant custodian?”
“Of course not, the Insurgence doesn’t have custodians, silly. I’m a Third-degree Finder.”
“And…?”
“I find good places for the meetings to be. They’ve needed a lot more of us since all the soldiers arrived.” He fell silent. They both remembered what had happened the day the soldiers had arrived.
“How’s the steluccus doing?” Roggie asked quietly.
“Oh!” Amber was surprised. “It’s over there now. I had to move it closer to the smokestack ‘cause of the ACE.” Roggie groaned at the mention of ACE and followed her to the window box with the steluccus inside.
ACE was the Air Curfew Enforcers, a group of hot air balloon pilots that made life just a little more difficult for people like Amber and Roggie. Not only did they stop anyone from leaving their building after 9ish, but when they weren’t on patrol, they were everywhere else, crowding places normal citizens needed to be, and messing with the smoothness of the city.
“They look great,” Roggie commented. “I think the soil we’ve been using helps a lot.”
“I still don’t understand how nobody’s caught you stealing it yet.”
Roggie thought for a moment. “If the consul doesn’t care about the precious dirt in his gardens enough to guard it better, he doesn’t deserve it. Anyway, the steluccus needs it more than he does.”
Amber laughed. “That’s true.” They both stared at the glow of the steluccus for a while. The little, grayish-blue plant was giving off a strange glow, mesmerizing them.
“Did you have any more brainstorms?”
Roggie turned to look at her. “About what it does? Not really. I feel like we’ve tried everything, but I’m sure there’s something we’ve forgotten.”
“Maybe it does only cure headaches,” Amber sighed.
A month ago, she had left some of its leaves in boiled water to see what would happen, and—after her shop assistant, Lavender, drank it by mistake—found out it worked well as a migraine antidote.
“I just don’t know what to do. Mila didn’t tell me anything, but if she needed us, and this has some magic or something that could help her...we have to try, don’t we?” Her voice broke off.
Roggie looked hesitant. “I did have an idea, but it's a little crazy,” he started carefully. “I was talking to Eddie the other day and—”
“Who?” Amber broke in.
“Eddie, from the shop. Don’t you remember? He’s the one who helped me with your face.” Amber shrugged. “Well, anyway, he mentioned something about a lemon battery thing he was going to try making for fun sometime. Clean energy and all that. But it got me thinking. Maybe we could make a little machine and see if the steluccus could power it?”
“Hmmmm,” Amber thought out loud. “Haven’t you tried that already?”
“Well, kinda. This time I’ll attach the wires to the living part of the plant. Last time, I used dead leaves that had already fallen off.”
“Wouldn’t you need to move the steluccus somewhere else to experiment on it? How could you? On your unicycle?”
“I’d manage,” he responded breezily. “But I was thinking I might build it with the steluccus inside, to protect the connectors. Like a robot with a heart.”
“Ooh, a robot.” She stopped. “You’re sure it won’t blow up?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be using the highest-quality machinery.”
“I’m surprised your boss hasn’t noticed all his parts going missing recently.”
“Oh, he has. He just can’t prove it was me.”
Amber laughed, shaking her head. “I swear, he would’ve fired you ages ago if you weren’t a genius.”
“Why thank you,” he mock-bowed. “You’re pretty smart yourself.”
“All I can do is bake things semi-decently. That doesn’t take any skills.” She fiddled with one of the leaves on the steluccus. “Lavender handles almost everything else for me.”
“That’s not true. You have plenty of talents!”
Amber looked at him doubtfully. She sighed. “Please though, if you did something that destroyed the steluccus—”
“I promise. I’d never forgive myself either.”
She looked relieved.
“When will you start?”
|-|Part 3=
==Part 3==
The strawberries were late again.
Amber really shouldn’t have been surprised. They usually were.
Still, it was difficult to deal with another delay, when all she wanted to do was go home and lock herself in the kitchen and BAKE.
The world was crazy outside her bakery. She hated it. Everything was grimy and messy and wrong.
Soldiers shouldn’t be blocking up civilian walkways; they should be off where wars were actually being fought.
Trains shouldn’t be so loud when they squealed into the station by the market.
Vendors shouldn’t be so greedy and cheap when they tried to sell her anything.
She knew Roggie wouldn’t mind. It was all part of the way things worked to him. An eye for an eye was the rule you lived by, and, to him at least, it seemed to make sense.
But Amber didn’t get it. People were horrible and rotten and terrible, but she wouldn’t be able to have those opinions if she didn’t act any better than they did.
This was why she was standing out in the early afternoon summer heat, waiting in the longest line imaginable for strawberries that had only just arrived when they should’ve been there at eight that morning.
Fortunately, this was her last errand, and she would soon be back in her bakery, without any more stops, or people, to deal with.
Some people were fine, of course. She loved being around Roggie and she tolerated Lavender, and Mila was a kindred spirit, but basically everyone else in the world was corrupt and back-stabbing and loved the Empire and all other sorts of awful things. She had better things to do than waste her time with them.
Like waiting for stinkin’ strawberries.
She smiled. The line was slowly inching forwards, and she had high hopes she would be leaving in fifteen minutes or so instead of the half hour she had been expecting.
The sad part was, this stall was the only place in the entire city Amber had discovered that sold decent strawberries.
Before she...left, Mila had supplied Amber with plenty from the village gardens, so Amber had never bothered to buy them from the market before. Mila’s were the sweetest, most delicious ones anyone in the city had ever tasted. It had been hard for Amber’s bakery to maintain its popularity with second-rate fruit for the past few months.
Amber wondered if it had something to do with the steluccus. Mila and the villagers might’ve grown all their plants together, so maybe the strange blue one left nutrients in the soil that helped the other seedlings grow faster?
Or something like that. Who knew how gardening worked?
She unearthed a pencil from somewhere in her bag, and leaned against a nearby telephone pole. In the shade of her sunhat, she made a note in the margin of her shopping list to save some dirt the next time she repotted the steluccus.
So she wasn't looking when two soldiers came up behind her and started talking.
“Hello,” the taller one said, making her spin around. He had dark blue—almost black—hair and freckles. His companion was a carrot-orange redhead with hazel eyes, but was slouching and looking the other way. Their uniforms marked them both as ACE commanders, but while the one who had spoken’s was neat and ironed with his hat in his hand, the other’s was rumpled and his hat was nowhere to be seen.
“H-hello. Good morning, er, afternoon,” Amber wasn’t prepared for humanity at the moment.
She looked down and saw she’d left a large scratch of pencil across the list when she turned. Amber, what is wrong with you?
“Can I help you with anything?” He asked politely.
“Nope, I’m all good! Thank you for offering though!” She noticed the line had moved a bit more towards the stall and hurriedly stepped a little closer. He matched her, and the other soldier followed him.
“Are you sure?” The first one repeated his question, then glanced at the other. “I’d love to be of any assistance, if you needed it.” Amber realized he wasn’t going to just go away. Ugh, people.
“Hmmmm.” She glanced ruefully at her paper. “Actually, do you happen to have an eraser I could borrow? Mine’s all used up.”
“Oh, of course!” He whispered quickly to his comrade as the other unzipped a pocket and held out a dirty grey one, grinning. “I’m afraid it’s not the best, but I hope it’ll do.”
“Thank you.” Amber used the way Roggie often said it. She was feeling just as done with life as he normally was. She grabbed the eraser and gingerly scrubbed off the mark on her paper, hoping this was enough “assistance” the soldiers would insist on giving.
“Um, ah, what’s your name?” The soldier asked, as Amber violently brushed the page off. She looked up.
“Countess Ambiency Tornade. Who are you?”
“M’lady! I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you!” He bowed. “Pardon me, but what happened to your face?” He was staring at her left eye. She quickly hid her fake arm behind her back.
“Oh, that’s just decoration. I don’t like the attention I’d get if people recognized me, so I wear it to blend in.”
“I understand,” he replied knowingly. “As long as you’re safe. Would you like one of us to see you back to the villa?”
“Oh, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” The strawberry line had slowly crept the rest of the way to the counter in the time they had been talking. “Oh look, it’s my turn! Excuse me…”
Facing away from them, she sorted through the bin of strawberries to pick the best ones. She grabbed a tiny crate and started tossing them in, checking her peripheral vision. She wondered if her “company” had left yet.
Amber wished she could stall some more, but she felt sorry for the people waiting behind her. When she couldn’t cram any more into the container, she looked up and handed the box to the vendor. As he weighed it, she glanced around for the two soldiers, but they had mercifully vanished.
“Thank goodness,” she whispered, giving some coins to the merchant.
“Eh?”
“Oh, um, Thank You,” Amber said louder. The old man grunted and started helping the next person. She sighed and walked off. People.
|-| Part 4=
==Part 4==
Adrian dragged Sylas away before the latter’s grin split his face apart. Once they were safely out of earshot, Adrian attempted to unleash his fury on his friend.
“I hate you.”
“I’d love to be of any assistance if you need it,” Sylas deadpanned. “Would you like an eraser?”
“Shut up. That eraser was disgusting.”
“I had more, I just didn’t want to waste them.”
“That was Consul Tornade’s daughter! You should’ve recognized her, even if I didn’t!”
Sylas threw back his head and laughed, unable to answer.
“What? Have you never seen her either? I thought you would’ve been here long enough—” Sylas snorted. “I bet you did it on purpose! You knew the whole time didn’t you?” Adrian accused him.
“Stop, stop!” Sylas cried, still wiping tears off his face.
Just then, a junior soldier ran up to Adrian and stopped, bending over to catch his breath.
“Hello, Sir...s,” he huffed, straightening and noticing Sylas. He turned back to Adrian and handed him an envelope. “Here. It’s from the Consul.”
Adrian quickly tore it open and pulled out a fancy piece of parchment.
“Fancy,” Sylas remarked, looking over Adrian’s shoulder. It was written in long, spidery letters, summoning Adrian to the Consul’s villa later that afternoon. “Are you going to go?”
“Of course I am! He’s the Consul!”
“It’ll be pretty boring,” Sylas reminded him.
“I’d be suffering for a noble cause.”
“You haven’t had lunch yet.”
“I can eat on the way.”
“I’ll get lonely.”
“Oh please.”
“Fine, fine,” Sylas held up his hands defensively. “Waste another hour of your life. What do I care? I’m only your friend, who you haven't even seen for three months, and—”
“How close is it?” Adrian ignored him, calling to the soldier who had been quietly escaping while the other two argued.
“Is what?” The soldier asked, startled.
“The Consul’s villa,” Sylas cut in, “is on the other side of the city. Much too far from here to get there in time.”
“No it’s not!” The soldier was surprised. “Look, you can see part of it above those buildings. That big orangey tower with the flag on it.” He pointed. Sylas looked daggers at him.
“Well, I’ll have plenty of time to get there,” Adrian said, relieved. “It's only across the train tracks.”
“And that parking lot.” Sylas added helpfully.
“Sylas…” Adrian warned. “I think I’ll leave now, and eat here before I go to the villa.”
“You should go to that one place we saw from the train. What was it called?”
“That was three stops from here. I’m not about to be late because my friend was craving barbecue.”
Sylas shrugged. “Well, I tried.”
“I can find my own food, don’t worry. I’ll see you later. Bye!” Adrian walked away, back towards the market stalls, and Sylas soon lost sight of him.
Well then, Sylas thought. He also could find food in the market.
Or he could take the train to somewhere less crowded.
Decisions, decisions.
While he was busy choosing, he saw a flash of yellow. He looked up and saw the sunhat and girl they had met earlier hurrying onto a train car. That determined it.
He should apologize anyway.
|-|Part 5=
==Part 5==
Adrian wished he could whistle. Everyone else in the universe could.
Honestly, everyone else could do a lot of things he couldn’t.
Like function normally around other members of society. I’d love to be of any assistance if you need it indeed.
Really though, it would be nice if there was some way to break the tension in the Consul’s waiting room.
Maybe humming would do.
He looked over at the stuffy lady behind the desk and decided against it.
He was only half an hour early. His appointment wasn’t until 3:15, but he hadn’t wanted to be late.
Why isn’t the Consul ready? Really, one would think he has less going on.
He certainly doesn’t do anything.
Well, that’s what Sylas had told him. Adrian himself had only arrived two days ago. Sylas had talked about so many different bits and pieces, they were still swimming around in Adrian’s mind, refusing to stay put and sort themselves out.
According to Sylas, the government was “crooked as a paper clip” and “slippery as a pomegranate”, but Adrian wasn’t so sure, especially as he didn’t know what a pomegranate was.
He felt that he should wait a little before making such hasty judgements about the Empire and the way It ran this particular colony. The Empire wouldn’t do anything to hurt its people. Maybe the city needed to be run a little differently in Sylas’s opinion, but it wasn’t his job to make that call.
Sylas had mentioned other things, of the land across the canyon.
Except he had called it “The Fallen Haven.”
Adrian shivered.
That made it sound so ominous.
Like it was the Empire’s fault half the forest burned down.
Crazy savages who can’t control their cooking fires.
Adrian wondered what it would have been like to watch half the trees disappear in flames the way Sylas described it. At the army barracks—on the forest-side of the bridge—Adrian had seen the way the things were right now, and he couldn’t imagine anything causing that much destruction.
The section at the end of the bridge was fine. The soldiers had needed to tear most of it up to make room for the base, but the couple trees that remained were pretty normal-looking.
But to the right of the bridge—
He shivered again. The huge chunk of charred ground where life should be. Everything was dead.
It wasn’t normal.
It’s a good thing the Empire will start building there soon, he thought. They’ll cover up that bit of unpleasantness with something nice.
This city could only be thriving under Its care. The Empire cared about its people. Growing up in the beautiful capital—where the Empire was strongest—he was sure of it.
But Sylas had grown up across the street from him, so he should know that too.
He glanced over at the desk clerk again. She was still reading the same orange piece of paper he’d seen the last time he looked. The clock on her desk said 2:50.
Adrian wished he could whistle.
|-|Part 6=
==Part 6==
Sylas stepped off the train, whistling. He looked around, sited his target, and ghosted after her, a shadow lurking behind its prey.
Nah, that doesn’t sound right, he thought. A shadow spying on their prey. But I’m not spying. A shadow stealthily sneaking up on their prey. Too much alliteration. A shadow stealing after their prey. What does that even mean?
He’d work on it. In the meantime, he needed to find the “Countess” again. He’d lost her betwixt his “shadowed” thoughts.
She was walking off the train platform onto the main road running perpendicular to the tracks. He hurried to catch up.
It became harder to casually follow her after they left the crowds around the station, but thankfully her destination appeared to be just on the next street.
Not as thankfully, the storefront she turned into was made completely out of glass, so being sneaky was physically impossible.
In fact, the entire store was made completely out of glass.
Our daring hero faces the conundrum before him with his brilliant wits and soon finds a way to proceed—any second now, brain.
No clear plan presented itself, so Sylas was forced to “wing it”. The best first step seemed to be to walk inside.
He opened the door, senses ready. An alarm bell tinkled and the smell of almonds hit him almost instantaneously. I would make an amazing spy, he thought scathingly. He quickly glanced around, waiting for someone to jump out at him. But the furniture didn’t include many good hiding spaces. Boy, everything really is glass.
He heard someone laugh on his left. “Can I help you, sir? What would you like to buy?” A perky teenager was leaning on a counter next to a blown-glass cash register. She was wearing a cream colored apron over an orangey-gold dress, exactly like the “Countess” had been.
It honestly could’ve been the “Countess” without her sun hat, but she had seemed a lot more reserved and less energetic than this girl.
“Oh, um, no. What do you sell here?”
She laughed again, shaking her messy light purple hair. “Look in front of you.” He saw the back wall of the shop was divided into transparent shelves, each one filled with baked goods that looked and smelled delicious.
“Oh, those are real?” He studied them closer.
“Yes. Our selection’s a little low at the moment, but if you come back tomorrow, we’ll have lots more to choose from.”
“Well, actually, there’s someone I needed to talk to,” he began. “I thought I saw them come in here, but I might’ve been mistaken. Have you seen anyone?”
She found that irresistibly funny, and took a couple moments to respond. “Do you mean Amber? What were you planning on saying?”
“Amber?”
“She owns this bakery. I only work here,” she explained. “I think she‘s in the back, baking. I wouldn't disturb her if I was you.”
“Is that just a suggestion, or like—”
“Like don’t even bother. She’s in the Zone,” she said mysteriously. “But you can talk to me!” She brightened and stuck out her hand. “I’m Lavender.”
“I’m...Sylas, I guess.”
|-|Part 7=
==Part 7==
The stuffy lady behind the desk cleared her throat.
It was 3:25.
Adrian had been staring out the window. There were a couple children playing on the villa grounds, and—as he had nothing better to do—he’d been watching them. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the lady get up, but chose to ignore it.
The children were much more interesting.
The girl in the center looked like the ringleader. She had dark puffy hair tied in two pigtails and laughed a lot. She was practically glowing with energy, and her presence seemed to make the others brighter and more cheerful too.
They were playing some sort of game with two fan-tech targets. The targets hovered around the height of a normal adult’s head, and were being pelted by tiny stones or whatever the children were using in their slingshots.
No, not rocks, he realized, looking closer and noticing the bag the girl with pigtails was holding. Is that..?
Candy.
It was candy.
As Adrian watched, he began to understand the game more. Any time someone hit the little gold ring in the center of each target, the head girl would write something on her arm with a pen from behind her ear. Then he would see her stick her fingers in her mouth and give a piercing whistle, calling the child over to pick an extra candy from her bag.
Because he was so far away, the whistles and laughter and screams of the children were faint, but he could tell they were all full of excitement.
It was very well-organized chaos.
“The Consul’s waiting for ye.” The lady’s voice was exactly what he would’ve imagined, coarse and gritty, like sand in one’s boots.
When he didn’t respond, she sighed obnoxiously and went over to see what he was looking at.
“Ohh, her highness and her little friends. Are they bein’ too loud again?”
“Who?” Adrian asked, shaken out of his thoughts.
“Her highness.” Adrian still looked confused. “Countess Ambiency Tornade the II.”
“Huh.”
“New here, aren’t ye?”
“Oh! Oh yes, yes I am. I only arrived yesterday with the explosives shipment.”
She looked at him for a second, then sighed loudly. “Wonder what the Consul wants with ye.”
Adrian thought he knew, but there wasn’t any reason to tell her.
“Is he ready for me yet?”
“He’s waiting.” She pointed to the door behind her desk.
“I guess I’d better go then.” He wasn’t about to say “thank you” for doing literally nothing, and—because he would see her again when he left—“goodbye” didn’t seem quite right, so he robotically walked to and through the door, wondering if her opinion of him could possibly get any worse.
|-|Part 8=
==Part 8==
“Lavender?” Amber called. “Are you with a customer? I need some help.”
“Just a minute!” Lavender shouted back. Amber heard the door bang shut, and the bell jingle against the pane. She winced again.
Whoever had left wasn’t quite as forceful as Mrs. Gracebier, but not by much.
Lavender came in a few moments later looking very happy.
“Could you take the frosting out and start heating it up? I’ll need it ready soon, and I have to watch the chocolate or it won’t temper right later.” Amber gestured at the pot in front of her at the stove.
Lavender nodded and went over to the huge fridge, and took out a bowl. She grabbed a small pan from a cabinet and started scooping the frosting in with a wooden spoon.
“Do you know anyone named Sylas?” she asked, trying to act nonchalant.
Amber squinted at the candy thermometer in the chocolate pot, then looked up and shook her head. “No, why?”
“Well, he knows you.” Lavender elaborated, “He said he needed to talk to you. He wanted to apologize for something.”
“Hmmm, I don’t know. What did he look like?”
“Well, he was wearing an ACE uniform. I thought that was strange. And he had bright red hair and—”
“Brown eyes?” Amber finished. “Was he sort of messy-looking?”
“Yea. He told me to tell you”—she slouched and sounded desperate—“I’m sorry for what happened earlier. Super sorry. It wasn’t Adrian’s fault. I dared him to. I’m really sorry. Don’t blame him. I’m so sorry.” She stopped. “He said ‘sorry’ some more, but that’s basically it.”
“People are the worst,” Amber sighed.
“No, they’re not! People are awesome,” Lavender insisted. “What was the dare?”
“Nothing really.” Amber tried to reassure herself as much as Lavender.
Lavender put the pan on the stove and turned on the boiler. She turned around, hands on her hips. “Spill.”
“It wasn’t anything bad, I guess. These two soldiers just came up to me at the market earlier and were acting really weird.” She hunted around in her pockets, and brought out an old, grey eraser. “Sylas, I think, gave this to me.”
“That’s crazy.” Lavender grabbed it and examined it closely. “Do you want it?”
“No, I just forgot to throw it out.”
“Can I have it?”
Amber looked at her strangely. “Sure…”
Lavender carefully, almost lovingly, dropped it in her apron pocket. She checked the consistency of the frosting again with the spoon. “Where should I put this?”
“Over by those.” Amber pointed vaguely in the direction of the opposite counter while she looked at the candy thermometer again and stirred the chocolate.
“Mmmm, strawberry Cheesecake bars? What’s the chocolate for?”
“Truffles. I thought I’d branch out a little. The fruit selection’s been getting worse at the market.”
“It’s too bad the Empire cares more about their bombs than our produce.” Lavender rolled her eyes. “It’s ridiculous.”
“Yea,” Amber agreed softly. She began to fade out.
Bombs.
Destruction.
Mila.
Bridges.
Arms.
Explosions.
Fire.
It was soothing in a way.
Lavender's loud voice brought her back sharply back to reality.
“Like, ‘NOBODY CARES, EMPIRE! WE DON’T WANT THE STUPID CANYON TERRITORY!’ Why do they even think we would?”
“Want it? No, they don’t care about us at all,” Amber laughed bitterly. “They’re just greedy aristocrats. Who knows why they do anything?”
|-|Part 9=
==Part 9==
Well, that happened.
Roggie peeked out from the bush he was hiding in and counted two pairs of shoes.
Two pairs of shoes that belonged to two Imperials, who he doubted would be overly pleased if they found him.
He held his breath, watching them pass.
“Big plans, my boy. Yes, very big plans. And you, of course, will be right at the center,” was the only snippet he heard before they disappeared around the other side of the gateway.
Roggie resisted the urge to look.
Once they reached the street, he hoped they would turn right, towards the cable car lift. Then he could sneak off with their backs facing away from him.
If they chose to take the train instead, they’d turn left, and the wall would hide their movements from him, which would not be good at all.
He’d given up hope of grabbing any topsoil by now. He might as well just come back tomorrow. Roggie wasn’t going to Amber’s again for a couple days. It would’ve been convenient to not get the dirt the day of the next Resistance meeting, but he’d just have to make do.
I can’t risk brEaKinG CUrFeW, he thought sarcastically. The curfew was somewhere on his Ten Top Most-Idiotic Imperial Inventions List. It was very, very stupid and he usually took every chance he could to violate it.
But it would also be very, very stupid to do so right in front of the most-protected building in town.
His bush was at the end of a long line circling the inside of the villa walls. Closest to the villa entrance, it had been the most convenient hiding spot when Roggie first heard the two voices coming from the end of the hedge maze.
He hadn’t expected anyone to be around. The guards for the villa door were set far enough back, they never saw him, and not many people were normally out during dinnertime.
When he couldn’t stop himself any longer, Roggie stretched to let his eyes just barely show around the edge of the wall.
The two Imperials were at the end of the walkway, finishing their conversation. Roggie wasn’t sure what exactly was going on, but the grey-haired man seemed to be reassuring the younger, black-haired one, who just looked confused.
Wait a sec.
The latter Imperial seemed to be done, and put on his hat. He’s an ACE pilot, Roggie realized. Gah.
Then the soldier turned left and walked off, with an extra energy that would’ve seemed like relief in anyone but an Imperial.
But no, it couldn’t be. The soldiers are too inhuman to feel anything like that.
And the soldier had chosen to walk towards the train. What’s that about? Most Imperials from the villa would’ve chosen the luxurious cable cars over smelly public transportation.
Huh.
Roggie turned his attention back to the older man. The grey-haired Imperial watched his companion for a couple more seconds, then abruptly turned and headed back to the villa gates.
Roggie ducked back into the bush, hoping the man hadn’t seen him.
Apparently he hadn’t.
As the Imperial got closer, Roggie heard him start talking to himself.
Or to someone else with a comm chip. He kept fiddling with something on his ear, but Roggie couldn’t see it very clearly in the dusk.
“...worry. He’ll be perfect. He’s completely clueless—just like his parents. He’ll make a perfect face f...”
Roggie didn’t catch the rest, but wasn’t about to care right then. After the man disappeared into the maze, he waited a minute to make sure he didn’t come back, then eased himself out of the bush.
“There you are!”
I hate everything. Roggie turned around and saw a girl standing by a potted plant at the maze entrance.
“Oh,” He was relieved. Children were much easier to deal with than adults.
“Yes?” She raised an eyebrow. “Here.” She pulled a tan burlap bag from behind the plant and gave it to him. “I think you need some.”
“What?” He asked, untying the top and looking inside. It was full of dirt.
“Nothing,” she shrugged innocently. “Maybe I thought you needed dirt for...something.”
“Alright, what do you want?”
“What’s it for?”
“No.”
“I’m not stupid. It’s not like I’d tell anybody.” Roggie looked doubtful. “How old do you think I am?”
“I dunno, like eigh—” he stopped talking to gasp in pain as she kicked him in the shin.
“Do I look like a child?” She asked the sky. “No mister, I’m thirteen. Listen. Every, single, stinkin’ person in that stupid building treats me like I’m four. Do you really want to be on their level? Imperial-scale stupid?”
Roggie shuddered. “I guess not.”
“Then, please, please, please, tell me. I want to help.”
“Maaaaybe.” He thought about it. I wonder if Amber would trust her.
“I hate to do this, but could also tell my father about you. You couldn't get your precious dirt if he tightened security.” She crossed her arms and looked at him. “Now, who are you?”
“I’m Roggie.”
Her pigtails swung around as she shook her head. “No, your real name.” He was confused.
“Well everyone calls me Roggie, but I guess it's really Rogerstone Mongomer if you—”
“Let me think.” She paused, and her eyes unfocused. “Rogerstone Mongomer, Rogerstone Mongomer. Got it.” She stared at him. “You live in Apt. 6 of No. 924 North Sunset. No relations in this city. You work at Bulaffo’s”—she cracked up—“the mechanic shop FanTech came from. You’ve broken curfew twice unexcused, as well as one excused time. What happened?”—she looked curious—“Oh, and I could tell you your height, age, and eye color too, but that’s boring. Anything I missed? Besides that you sneak out twice a week for some unknown reason to steal our dirt?”
“No, that just about covers it. Who are you?”
“You wouldn’t trust me if I told you that. But I think you hate the Empire almost as much as I do, and I guess you’re…‘old enough’ to do something about it. And I want to help you.”
|-|Part 10=
==Part 10==
“Listen to me. Soldiers don’t help people here.”
Adrian looked up from the misty canyon below them.
Sylas continued, “Soldiers are the bad guys. Nobody likes us. Most people here think the Empire’s rotten, and I don’t blame them.”
“Rotten? Aren’t we here to expand their territory and make their city better?”
Sylas sighed. “Do you remember the girl you saw in that line at the market?”
“Yes, and I asked her if she wanted help because she was carrying a lot of stuff with her prosthetic and everything. Oh, turns out she’s not actually C—”
“I know, I know. But did you see how long the line she was in was? She needed those strawberries for a customer order. If she hadn’t gotten them, she would’ve lost at least two patrons. Imagine what that would’ve done to her business.” He was exaggerating a little, but Adrian needed to understand.
“How do you know all that?”
“Reasons. Anyway, the amount of food the Empire allows to be imported here depends on the civilian population. Not the civilian population plus a couple ten-thousand soldiers.” He paused. “You didn’t think we actually ate the goop they serve at the mess hall?”
Adrian shuddered. His tour the day before had encompassed the whole base, so he knew the smelly building Sylas was talking about.
“Adrian, we steal the food they need, we crowd up every single transport, and we make any line three times longer than it should be. This isn’t the capital! The city can’t sustain this many people.” He threw out his arms dramatically, somehow without smacking his friend sitting next to him.
“But it's for their own good in the long run,” Adrian protested. “Right?”
“I don’t really think it is though,” Sylas said quietly. “ACE literally catches people for being outside at night. We just mess with civilian freedom. And for what? So they don’t see all the weapons we’re shipping in? It's no secret we’re going to destroy the forest.”
“We are?”
“Yea, what did you think the explosives were for?”
“I dunno. War stuff? Sylas, the Empire’s not evil. The capital’s the most peaceful place in the world.”
“The people in the capital don’t understand. How could they? They’re not here. The only ones with enough power to do anything are too far away to realize they need to.”
“What about the government here?” Adrian asked a little tightly.
“You know they can't do anything without the capital’s approval.”
“I can’t believe that. The Consul should be doing something. Maybe they’re the crooked ones,” Adrian stood up too. I just...I don’t know. I can’t just take your word for it like that. The whole Empire can’t possibly be bad! There have to be some good people.”
Sylas stared into the mist. He knew he shouldn’t blame Adrian. He himself had been just as naive the day he arrived.
But not for long.
He remembered everything. The rush to cross the bridge to stop the “savages”. The glow of fire in the distance that distracted him. The elbow that hit him in the chest. The grab on empty air too late to save his rifle. The hopelessness he’d felt as he watched it.
Fall.
Fall.
Fall.
Into the darkness.
He stood there, as everyone else passed. He didn’t know why. In shock, probably. But after a couple minutes, as the last few soldiers trickled across, something happened.
A little blue *POP*
Then, fire everywhere.
Then quiet.
Later, when he’d asked the Colonel for a new gun, he’d laughed in Sylas’s face and told him to go to the Major.
And when he’d asked the Major, he’d “promoted” Sylas to ACE pilot so he didn’t make any more “mistakes” around camp.
So Sylas had started doubting the Empire not too many hours after he’d left the capital.
But Adrian…
He needed to convince Adrian. He wouldn’t let his best friend be a mindless pawn like the rest of the soldiers.
“Sylas? You’re brooding,” Adrian announced.
He didn’t realize he’d been silent that long. Wow, time sure flies when you’re HAviNg fUn. “Everyone here is bad, Adrian.” He pointed at their side of the canyon. “And everyone over there is good.”
“That can’t be true.”
“I’ll prove it.”
“I’ll prove it.”
They were interrupted by the “Foom!” of flame as a hot air balloon was lit and sent across the canyon for ACE patrol.
“That’ll be us tomorrow,” Sylas commented. “Both of us.”
“You’re right. When do you usually go to sleep?”
Sylas looked at his watch. The glass was cracked, and he doubted the hands were moving at the right speeds. “Right now. Goodnight.”
|-|Part 11=
==Part 11==
Ring-a-ding-a-ding.
Something stirred Amber’s sub-consciousness.
Ring-A-Ding-A-Ding.
“Mmmmph!” She buried her face in her pillow, trying to block out the noise.
RING-A-DING-A-DING.
She sighed heavily and rolled off her bed, refusing to open her eyes yet.
She reached up and felt around on her nightstand for her phone.
When she finally found it, she picked it up and yawned loudly into the receiver.
“Amber?”
“Yes? Hello, person calling in the middle of the night.”
“Amber, it's 7:30.”
She finally opened her eyes, and saw the digits on her alarm clock. “Oh, so it is.” She yawned again, before making a valiant effort to sound professional. “Good morning, this is Honey Amber’s Bakery, Amber speaking, how may I help you today?”
“Amber, please, at least write down what I’m about to say, so you’ll remember it later.”
“Great.” She stood up and grabbed a notepad from the top of her desk. Finding a pen that worked was a little harder, but she managed to, and was ready when Roggie—who’s voice she was now awake enough to recognize—began talking.
“So I was at the Villa last night,” he started brightly.
“Yay,” Amber commented.
“And I almost got caught by these two Imperials.”
“Oh no.”
“But I heard some of what they were saying.”
“Yay.”
“It wasn’t anything good.”
“Oh no.”
“Here, make sure you write it down. One of them has some big idea, and he’s going to use the other one to publicize it.”
“How specific,” Amber put in dryly, now completely awake.
“No, no, it’s important! But I needed to tell Noilio, for the Resistance and the city, and Mila, of course, if it has something to do with her village. So I was about to call my commander, when guess what? He called me. Well, it wasn’ him exactly. I think i—”
But Amber had stopped listening after Mila. She was fading again.
Hopelessness in Mila’s eyes before Amber understood why.
Hopelessness as she watched Mila jump off the ledge.
Hopelessness on the top of the canyon as she calmed her heartbeat and refused to look at her arm, afraid of what she would see.
“—so I told him, ‘Don’t worry, she’s fine with it.’ You are o.k. with it, right?”
“Anything for Mila!” Amber wasn’t sure what he’d said at the end, but it probably didn’t matter.”
“Okay, so I’ll bring the soil over later, and I’ve got some pieces for the robot thing I need to see if they’re big enough, so I’ll drop those off then too.”
“Cool, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere today anyway. I did all my shopping for the week yesterday.”
“Good, I’ll see you then. Bye!”
“Goodbye! Wait—”
But Roggie hung up before she could ask him when exactly he would show up. She might need to warn him to be patient if a customer was picking something up. It’ll be fine, she thought, reassuring herself.
It’s just Roggie.
|-|Part 12=
==Ik part 11 was about as short as they get. I’m sorry. A ton of things came up, but there’ll be some fun stuff in the next few parts, I promise.==
</tabber>
category:Literature
Category:Fiction
Category:Original Stories
Category:Fantasy
Category:Original Stories (Unfinished)
Category:Dust’s Junk