Марк Ньютон - Drakenfeld

I watched the flame of the candle for some time, contemplating all these matters, trying to recover my memories of the buildings and people that defined my time in Tryum; moments of my childhood returned to my mind, the walls that bore my graffiti, the games we played in the street.

Eventually, as it always does, the candle sparked out.

Preparing for my return home, the following morning I headed to the merchant house by the harbour in Venyn City, capital of the nation of Venyn, to exchange my money for a receipt with the intention of exchanging it back for the local currency, pecullas, upon reaching Tryum in Detrata. I put the receipt in a small leather tube that I hung around my neck, and walked along the seafront, enjoying the pleasant morning sunshine and the salt tang on the breeze for perhaps the last time. For who knew where I would be sent next after dealing with my father’s affairs – Sun Chamber officers tended to be dispatched wherever we were most needed, though often it seemed that Leana and I had been forgotten in this city. I wrote confirmation of my travels and posted them to the sheriff, who all officers reported to, and took the long walk home one final time.

From a steep hillside, Venyn City plunged down to an estuary, which was currently cluttered with large shipping vessels. The water was murky at best, containing the scrubbed-off dirt from a thousand dubious souls. It was only further out to sea that the water became a true and brilliant blue.

Thanks to the wind, the hills facing the sea were relieved of the stifling, oppressive heat, which caused such discomfort to the city dwellers. Conspiring winds and the searing sun made the streets full of hot, damp dust that accumulated on the cracked lips of the beggars taking refuge in the shadows of decrepit buildings. Hundreds of starving dogs slunk in the alleyways or lay like the dead in whatever small shade they could find. Even the fat palm trees growing in the tropical gardens seemed to wilt in the humidity.

Over the centuries, Venyn had seemed to suffer the indifference of its gods, with invading nations plundering its spoils then abandoning its people. It had once been the centre of the grain route, but when cheaper prospects were found elsewhere the money dried up and Venyn then found itself as far from prosperity as was possible for a city. The refuge of the desperate, the debauched and the degraded, it was not a pleasant place to live any more, but somehow people scraped an existence. Legal or otherwise. It was no surprise the Sun Chamber had sent me here, a criminal base, a country of unrest. Agents and officers only tended to come together in larger numbers when a major crisis presented itself.

Crime on this scale wasn’t considered a crisis when it was part of everyday life.

Despite the heat, the dirt and the stench of rotting refuse – I couldn’t hate the place. I had been working here for six years. How many times had I narrowly avoided being killed on the streets in this city: escaping a mugging, loosening the grip of a desperate homeless person, or politely, then more firmly, resisting the calls of the men and women leaning out of the windows of a dockyard bordello?

The Sun Chamber had spies, but they were always on the move, always walking in circles higher than my own; and they tended to contact us only when they needed to. I could rely only upon my own skills – and later, Leana’s – and that was the point. After all, it was the reason I came here in the first place, to build something of a reputation for myself.

While I wouldn’t miss trying to bring order to one of the most corrupt cities of the Vispasian Royal Union, I appreciated that this often forgotten corner of Vispasia had, at least, sharpened my senses and honed my skills as an officer of the Sun Chamber. Though we had not exactly cleansed the streets of all nefarious activities, I liked to think, looking back, that where there had been disorder there was now some structure.

These dirty, ancient streets were now a more civilized place. While not being one to dwell on my successes too much, modesty being one of the precepts of Polla, having weighed up my performances I felt I could at least leave proud.

There was almost always a Sun Chamber officer stationed in every large town and city throughout the Vispasian Royal Union. Presumably my replacement would find the city still a challenge. He or she would have to build up their own local network of confidants and learn the hard way that Venyn City was tough work.

The Sun Chamber, a vast and bureaucratic organization, enforces the Treaty of Royal Blood, a two-centuries-old law that bound together the eight nations of Vispasia in union. The treaty came off the back of the bloody wars that resulted from the collapse of the old Detratan Empire, in which the continent sustained huge losses of life. One by one the nations decided it would be best for all if they maintained peace. Even to this day, royals head twice a year to the Council of Kings in Free State, central Vispasia, in order to debate matters of continental trade and politics. The alliance is not an easy one, and now and then a king may threaten to withdraw his nation from the union, but peace has been maintained. In that time, the Sun Chamber had acquired land of its own, developed a vast network of agents and officers, so much so that more senior figures, far above the rank of officer, were often depended upon to give advice on trade and commerce.

Officers worked alone, though we could hire whoever we wanted to assist us. With firm persuasion, local politicians, judges and even princes could be made to behave; and our badge of office was feared accordingly. Or so we were told during our training – more often than not, local officials didn’t give a damn about deceiving their own superiors or the people they served. Generally we would bring matters to the attention of local lawmakers and let the matter be dealt with internally wherever possible. Nations should sort out their own affairs – or, at least, it should appear that way.

The job sounded more glorious than it was in reality, especially for someone of my level. The rich leaned on the poor when it came to doing nefarious deeds – from tax evasion to murder – so we often saw ourselves travelling into some of the darkest parts of Union and talking to the most unfortunate people, in order to report it to our superiors, who wielded great control over the ebb and flow of Sun Chamber personnel.

Sometimes I questioned the motive for being sent to various corners of the continent, though I remained committed no matter what the case in hand. For example, I did not know if capturing a man who smuggled women across borders for prostitution actually helped bind the nations together in political union, but I did know that it would help the lives of others, the women in question, and it certainly improved the local communities. We were always told that the crimes of the lower classes were often influenced by men and women much higher up in society, and therefore an officer in his or her first few years would often be ordered into the dingiest of slums alongside the local officials in order to hone their skills. Even in the Sun Chamber, one had to earn the right to speak among the politicians and royals.

I had been brought up worshipping Polla, a truly honest and remarkable woman who later became deified, and who taught that our lives were little more than the sum of our good deeds over bad. By those criteria, my life here in Venyn City had been a good one, and in some ways I would miss the place.

The next morning, once Leana had sold our horses, and the keys to our rented dockyard offices were returned to the landlord, we set off for Tryum.