The Divide

Chapter Four: Harry

My first thought when I see the city is that it's unnecessarily clean.

It's not that I live in filth. Da's always bugging me about keeping my quarters tidy, and usually if he sees a spec of dirt on the floor he just about has a meltdown. I just don't understand Auroria Central at all, especially because all the streets look the same. Where's the spray paint on the walls? What about the old cobblestone pavements? Where are the aggressive signs on shop doors telling customers to go away? The city is nearly blinding. Everything is white or beige with shiny bronze accents, and there's more green in this city than I've ever seen in Greymoore.

It makes me mad.

Even the marketplace stalls are pristine. Unlike the marketplace back home, they don't have rags tied to a few poles for shelter. The market where I live is a dark, gloomy place, and it's a prime place for thieves. It's not like there are guards---owning a stall in Greymoore generally means you're opening yourself up to that kind of stuff. If you can't defend yourself or your own wares, you might as well give up before you get started.

I see guards at this marketplace, though. All around. I can feel their eyes on me even now. They don't look like normal knights; they aren't wearing plate armour like I imagined, but the backs of their jackets spell out 'KNIGHT' in reflective letters as clear as day. Their uniform is peach and white, the colours of the Aurorian flag, and they don't carry any weapons. How are they supposed to defend themselves? I know for a fact that I'm carrying at least eight knives on me right now, all hidden in strategic places no knight will find unless they really want to get up close and personal---

Oh, right. This is Auroria. Stuff like that doesn't happen here.

"Dude! Harry!" My best friend, Wills, calls frantically from not too far away.

I reach for my sword as I turn in his direction. My hand grasps at thin air. I grumble as I remember that I was forced to leave it on the ship, hence the knives I brought with me today. At least Wills doesn't seem to be in any danger---which is surprising, especially considering that he normally seems to find trouble wherever he goes. Usually, I'm the one that has to get him out of it.

"Whit is it, Wills?" I sigh in exasperation, shuffling in his direction.

I stop next to him to find that his eyes are glued to something under one of the market stalls, a machine with some sort of glass shelter. Inside, it hosts... tubs of all different colours. I don't understand why he's so interested in it. I don't even know what it is.

"Look at this stuff," says Wills. "They're selling coloured goop?"

My brows furrow as I look over my friend. Sometimes I look at Wills and see only Wiley; their facial expressions are the same, though they look nothing alike. Wills' ma dropped him off on Wiley's doorstep as soon as he was born, and from what Da tells me, she was a beautiful pirate lass with skin the colour of mahogany and eyes as dark as the depths of the sea. Wills has his mother's good looks and all of his Da's brains, which is typically not a lot.

I eye the shopkeeper, wondering how easy it would be to step around the counter and take a handful of this stuff before dashing. Unfortunately for me, the shopkeeper meets my gaze and starts to approach us. I look away, cursing under my breath, but by the time the man reaches the counter it's too late for me to back out of this dreaded interaction.

So far, I've managed to speak to no Aurorians at all. Of course it'd be Wills who ends that for me.

"Can I help you?" The shopkeeper asks, looking between the two of us warily.

I grab onto the back of Wills' faded leather jacket, ready to pull him away. "Ye cannae, we're fine, we were just aff tae---"

"Oh, hey, yeah, um, how much is this slime?" Wills asks.