Absolution (Post #2)

Continued from Part 1
...

There was a whisper in the wind, from behind the bars and underneath the door that said a man called the Monarch was looking for a few good men to accompany him on an expedition across the seas. It was supposed to be kept a secret, hidden away so the officials wouldn't get suspicious about a stranger taking citizens of the city on a trip towards imminent death. Only a few knew, most likely people who were associated with the Monarch himself. Of course I would think it obvious that he knew it would be hard to find anyone who would want to venture out into the free seas, to see a world unlike any other. Most of the people are quite content with sitting behind their desks, working from dusk till dawn and sitting in front of their television until it is time to sleep.

I'm not one of those people, not anymore. I cannot stand the drab dreary excuse of a life that I am standing in any longer. Tonight I will go seek out the Monarch and escape the pitiless backwater of endless monotony. It is the willpower and courage that I have built up for so many years that will help me break away from these chains.

I am to meet a contact at the bar Fisherman's Horizon, down by the docks, near the anchorage. Getting to my destination however might prove to be difficult. Believe it when I say that there are very few people who roam the streets at night. Mostly workers going home from a late shift, or people with a sense of shadiness about them, stalking the corners away from the lampposts. There was an armed guard at every crossroad, whether it be for protection or fear I do not know, both seem like plausible explanations.

Heavy clouds covered the city tonight, a thick fluffy soup of pollution and ocean water whirled in the sky above. It was never a wise choice to go traversing about the streets when it was raining out, especially with such filthy water dropping from the upper atmosphere. The rain wasn't coming down very hard tonight, a mixture of mist and light fall splattering the stone cobbles of the streets. I am wearing a hooded raincoat that covers my head to about my mid thigh, a trusty piece of equipment when I had to go home after a late night working in the coal mines of the Southern District. There is no love attached to my profession, and I will not miss the sulfur infused caves one bit. My lungs, already poisoned by inhaling sulfur for five years has had enough, and so did I. I am ready to take in the freshest of air, swim in the cleanest of waters and live the life of an adventurer at sea. First I must find my way to the Fisherman's Horizon.

With my backpack filled with canned foods, a flask of whiskey and official papers identifying me as who I am, I was ready to leave this place forever. With my backpack under my raincoat I tip-toe to the corner of the street that I grew up on my whole life. Street number 145 of 520, the same looking street as the next one hundred. Each house, each front lawn and the fences that separated them the same as the next, for as far as the eye can see. Nothing standing out of the ordinary but myself, huddled under a tree behind the corner lamp post, ready to make my escape out of this world and into the next. The pier where the bar was located was about a mile west of where I lived. All I had to do was follow street #140 until I hit the Naval Academy building, then sneak my way around and make myself towards the pier.

Half way there and I was surprised at the ease that it took to get as far as I did. The armed guards were sparse tonight, only one on every third or fourth crossroad. Perhaps the weather kept some of them inside instead, sipping on tea and looking out from a window inside a cozy home. The enforcement of the city wasn't very strictly coordinated. The officers would do as they wished, so long as the job was done. Nothing stopped an officer from patrolling the corners so long as he had his eyes on it. Whether that meant pacing the streets back and forth, or entering the home of a stranger and sitting by their front window as the rain continued to pitter-patter on the pavement. I was also being very careful with my steps, creeping quickly from one corner to the next, my feet gliding ever so softly across the silk water covered streets. My backpack kept tight and my raincoat flowing with the grace of my body made me appear as an apparition in the night, not exactly certain whether what you saw was really there or not. I felt a surge of excitement and relief the closer I got to my destination, but I was quickly brought back to a fearful reality when I felt a poke on my shoulder and a voice from behind me.