Chapter 2

They followed the main road, immediately finding themselves in the middle of the bustling city life. All around them were multiple stories tall buildings with their balconies and windows decorated with intricate wrought iron patterns, stone facades alternating between darker shades and stark white.

  Sidewalks were full of people going on errands, going on about their day, barely looking at what was happening around them. Long skirts swooped around the pavements, the click of heels and canes filling up the air along with all kinds of chatter and the sounds of steam powered cars slowly making their way up and down the crowded streets.

  The air smelled of smoke and grilled food; stores’ merchandise were spilling up on the sidewalks as sellers were yelling about how great their deals were. Aïlen’s eyes were wide open; she didn’t want to miss any of it.

  She was fascinated by the life around her.

  Taffeta and silk gowns were displayed beyond the great windows next to well tailored suits, intricately crafted corsets and many different styles of hats. And it wasn’t just clothes or accessories: house decor, wallpapers, toys, kitchen utensils and the most grotesque knickknacks caught her attention as they slowly made their way through the crowd.

  They passed armories and their dreadful but amazing array of weapons on display, guns ranging from the standard electricity-powered blaster to the old bullet gun, the Corbis clan being one of the only manufacturers of those and their ammunition left on the continent.

  But guns weren’t their only field of expertise: one of their trade partners owned a large amount of metal mines and so they had taken to the making of blades of all kinds, to the point that it had become their second biggest export.

  When Aïlen had received Selene’s first report on the clan, she had familiarized herself with their industry and how, while the guns and blades made for export were all mass manufactured in the factories at the North of the city, the weapons sold by armories were all independently made and were the pride of the clan.

  Everything in this clan had seemed to revolve around death, wealth and power in Aïlen’s mind. But now she was faced with another reality: its inhabitants were so full of life, the city itself vibrated with it. Even just passing through those streets, she felt thrilled; the amount of life was like nothing she had ever seen before, it was captivating and slightly dizzying.

  She couldn’t wait to see the Collector, to meet the leader of this all.

*

  The city’s main square was a large plaza where the city’s main streets converged. Apart from the center stood a massive building entirely made of off-white stones, richly decorated with wrought iron sculptures and adorned with the mechanical crow wings that took up half of the facade, partially covering up some of the windows with their massive black metallic feathers.

  It was the Collector’s headquarters, the center of the administrative and political life of the clan, where the leader lived and gave her orders.

  Aïlen faintly heard Banham swallowing his saliva, his anxiety showing ever so slightly in his shallow breaths. Of course he wasn’t as crazy about this whole plan as she was. He wasn’t excited to know what lay behind these walls; he hadn’t been the one to come up with this mad idea to start with.

  Guards in dark uniforms were standing in front of the massive oak doors, rifles in hand, ready to take aim at any moment. Aïlen walked up to them while keeping a respectful distance.

  “We have an audience with the Collector in the name of the Brand New Light,” she said.

  The guard in front of her looked her up and down before nodding to his colleague.

  “Wait here,” the first guard simply replied as the other man disappeared inside the building.

  Aïlen gave at first a polite smile, quickly giving up in front of the guard’s impassiveness. Thankfully the wait didn’t last long; soon enough, the second guard got out again.

  This time he was accompanied by a tall elegant man in a black and blue suit with a top-hat perched upon the black locks of curly hair that framed his tawny face. He wore the same worn leather gauntlets as the gatekeeper, the same goggles on his hat.

  “Welcome commanders,” he finally said. “I’m Kebel Makel. Please follow me inside, the Collector will see you soon.”

  With a smile he showed them past the guards into a beautiful entrance with a carpeted floor and a great staircase leading to the upper floors.

  They followed him to a richly decorated private room, hung with tapestries, where gold and red couches were arranged around a glass and gold coffee table. Those were the sole furniture in the room but, considering the rest of the decoration, it was more than enough.

  Aïlen felt like a child, bewitched by the amazing decor around her, surrounded by more riches than she had ever witnessed before. It wasn’t an easy task in that moment to keep her composure in front of Kebel; thankfully, he quickly excused himself, leaving the commanders alone to marvel at the room.

  The tapestries depicted peaceful rural scenes of a time long gone, a time that no person alive could remember anymore. Now they only knew war and the stories that came with it, including that of the Rebellion which had made the Collector a living legend.

  The story of this bastard teenager leading her men to overthrow her father, destroying and reshaping one of the most powerful and ferocious clans on the continent the way she wanted was told often and in great details, embellished to the point that no one knew where reality ended and legend started anymore.

  It made it hard to actually imagine what the Collector would be like. But if Aïlen was sure of something, it was that this woman was a fierce warrior, a merciless killer and a great leader admired by all who knew her.

  A maid entered without a word to place a tray of tea and cookies on the coffee table, bringing her back to reality.

  She left as she had entered, making way for a short woman in her early twenties with short hair dyed gray and a scarf tied around it. Goggles held the fabric in place; she too wore leather gauntlets. A black fabric mask hid away the lower half of her face.

  The Collector hastily walked to one of the couches before indicating to the commanders to sit in the one opposite hers.

  She was squeezing a piece of paper in her hand, the broken wax seal indicating a letter from the Aschilea clan.

  Aïlen smiled.

  “Hello commanders, I am Emra Corbis, leader of this clan and Collector of Corpses. You’ve already met Kebel, my most trusted adviser. What can I do for you?”

  Holding herself very straight, she looked down at Aïlen like a queen looking at her subjects from her throne. She was in her home, part of the riches that surrounded her; they were the strangers.

  Even though her clothes were simple – a black corset atop a white blouse with puffy half-sleeves, long white skirt with brown overskirt, buckled shoes and a belt with bag and gun holster at her waist – they were of the best quality.

  But now wasn’t the time for Aïlen to marvel at the woman’s attire; a question had been asked and she needed to answer it.

  “Hello Collector, I am Aïlen and this is Banham. We have an offer for you. We are asking for free passage through your territory and that you provide us resources, in exchange providing you with the help of our men.”

  The Collector raised an eyebrow and scoffed.

  “And for what reason should I accept such a deal? We are in no need of any help. If you don’t have a more serious offer than that I will ask you to leave. I have more important matters to attend to.”

  She started rising from her seat, looking bored and annoyed they would waste her time like this. Was she not going to let them continue? Did she really agree to see them just to laugh at them? Had Aïlen been too confident in her words?

  The shadow of a doubt started to form in her mind before Banham rose, staring into the Collector’s eyes.

  “We know what’s happening with your food supplies! We can help you right the situation with the Aschileas!”

  Emra stopped, looking off-balance. She stared at both Banham and Aïlen, her eyes widening in a flash before she had time to compose herself again.

  She slowly sat down, clutching the letter in her hand a little tighter.

  Her reaction was all Aïlen had hoped for; her doubts vanished as the shadow of a smile appeared on her lips again.

  “From what information we’ve gathered,” Aïlen continued, “your relationship with your neighbors has been degrading so much that they keep inflating their prices and won’t let you buy for less. You’re the only clan they do that to. And without any agriculture of your own, in a year or two you won’t be able to feed your people anymore. Against shelter, resources and safe passage we offer to lend you all of our men to take control of the Aschilea clan. No need to worry about supplies anymore if you control where they come from. And I guess it’s also an opportunity to reassess your dominance over the region.”

  “And what tells you that we can’t do this on our own? Every person in this clan receives military training at the age of sixteen,” Emra replied, her voice colder, more brittle than before.

  “Because your clans are of equal size and despite what you tell me, since when do you not have a proper army anymore?” Aïlen asked, prodding where she hoped it would hurt. “All our men are well trained soldiers who excel in their field and know how to use all kinds of artillery.”

  The Collector frowned before rising up from her seat, turning around to face the tapestries; Aïlen and Banham couldn’t see her expression anymore.

  A wise move for her to think through her options.

  Both commanders found themselves leaning forward, staring at her in silence, waiting to see what her reply would be. Hands held behind her back, she looked deep in thoughts, contemplating the scenery in front of her.

  Taken by surprise, she didn’t seem like half the absolute monarch she had been seconds before.

  After a few minutes of complete silence, the air was so heavy that Aïlen felt like her limbs were weighted down with lead. The commanders glanced at each other, doubt creeping in again when the Collector finally turned around, her skirt swishing around her.

  “This does sound appealing. But you can imagine that I can’t take this decision right away. I need time to think of an agreement and calculate what it’ll take us to welcome your men, if I accept. Come back in a week, I invite you to the celebration of the Rebellion so we can discuss further. And please, bring your third commander, I’d be delighted to meet him.”

  Aïlen nodded, trying really hard to hide her growing grin.

  The commanders rose for Emra to show them to the exit. She opened the door for the two commanders and, as she waved them goodbye, said:

  “Whoever informed you of our situation, I’d be glad to meet them. That kind of information doesn’t easily leak past our walls.”

  “They’d prefer to stay anonymous, for safety reasons you see,” Aïlen replied ironically.

  “Of course, I wouldn’t expect less,” Emra let out a scoff. The shifting of her mask, the spark in her green eyes hinted at a grin.

  She closed the door behind them, still clutching the Aschilea letter in her hands.