The City on the Rocks

Continent Vona, Covenant-State Valrè,
Capital Sur-l’Pierllats,
Springtime 4:726 of the Golden Age

„Come now, hurry up, will you! “Gervais scurried over the empty marketplace, the sack with the money pressed firmly to his chest. It was all he could scrap together, after they sold most of their belongings. Their house, his clinic. His wife, Monique, stood on the other side of the market, holding a blanket over her head to protect her from the massive rainfall this cold night. Deep runlets and streams formed at the site of the streets, making their way to the Harbour, together with all the filth of the city. As soon as they flushed it away, new ones came from the upper regions of the Low-Town and High-Town, which put the Harbour-District in an ever being state of impurity.
“With my luck, you’re the only one in the city who is going to be struck by lightning!”, complained Monique to her spouse, who finally reached her in the small alley.
“Well, then the Siglin would be gone as well.”, retaliated Gervais, who was used to his wife’s taunting.
“Yes, that’s also the only reason why I hope nothing happens to you! Come now, I don’t want to stay here longer than necessary.” Next to her on the ground lay two duffel bags, filled with only the bare necessities. Gervais threw one of the bags over his shoulder, after depositing the money bag in it. Monique took the other one.
“Say, don’t you feel a bit bad about leaving just like that? I mean, this is our home, our life”
“A life that would soon end if we don’t get out of here quickly! I would rather live on some farmstead, than to continue to pay those scoundrels, only to pay even more Siglin the next month anyway.”
Gervais knew she was right. As usual. She wanted to leave the city a month ago already. Truth to be told, she did not even want to live here to begin with, after they married five years ago. But Gervais was blinded by his dream. And now the men of the notorious Pichard were after them, after they failed to pay the protection money, once again. A price they imposed onto all the people of Pichard’s territory.
The Gendarmerie praised itself with fighting the gangs and improving living conditions in the Low-Town. But it did not matter how many ‘Pichards’ they caught, new ones would always come out of their holes, to replace one another. Crime was like a self-preserving system. The failing of certain elements was even needed, so new cells could rise and fall eventually themselves. The only constant was the suffering of the people and the futile fight of law enforcement.
Monique stomped ahead, whilst her husband tagged along. Even though nobody would go outside in this thunderstorm, they sticked to the side-alleys and byways, to avoid being seen. They destination was the eastern fringe of the city, where a smuggler would help them leave the city. Even though, he demanded as much as the debt collectors the two were fleeing from in the first place. But the alternative was worse. One of the dockworkers, who was known to help people out, who were in dire need of it, and having a weak-spot for the poor of the Surla-Rocher, led them to the smuggler and managed a date and payment. The rest was up to them. Getting there and paying enough Siglins for the trip. From there, they would leave town with a boot, sailing a bit down the coast, until they can climb up the Marble-Coast and go further inland to meet Gervais family.
Every time they entered another alley, both checked their surroundings, just to make sure nobody was waiting for them. After a few minutes, both reached the fringe of the Trade-District. Above them, high on the steep cliff, on which the city was built, the lights of the High-Town estates flickered in the night. All the rich and powerful, trade-moguls and pseudo-aristocrats, who secured themselves the best seats in the city. With ocean-view and everything, but without the rabble und the odour of Low-Town.
Monique became furious at the thought of them living their perfect lives. They probably even had a finger or two in the unlawful going-ons of the Low-Town. She and the rest had to live in constant fear and uncertainty, barely protected by the Gendarmerie, always with gangs and criminals at their backs. It was not the life Monique dreamed of, when she moved to the “big city” with her husband, so he could open a clinic in the Harbour-District. It all went so well in the beginning. Gervais was a well-educated man, trained as a doctor, should have had a safe income. Especially with less and less Magi roaming around, people relied even more on newer crafts, to heal their illnesses. But Gervais was a good-natured man as well, so he opened his clinic in the most dangerous and dysfunctional part of town. He did not care about profit with his craft. He wanted to help the poorest of the poor with affordable healthcare. But the city has its own mind and rules, enforced by dodgy characters. If only she would have been persistent back in the day. He would have become a country doctor, with his own farm and all.
Quickly, Gervais looked left and right, making sure nobody was nearby. Besides some drunkard at the end of the street, all was dark and quiet. They did not choose the storm for nothing. The perfect time to flee from their debt collectors and move quietly and undetected through the city.
“And when we reach the city border…”
“… the “Goathead’s” contact will get us out of here.”, answered Monique, whilst both continued down the street.
“As soon as we reach the Lilas, we will look for your sister and everything will be fine again. Well, at least better than here.”
“And what if those goons follow us into the farmland? We would endanger Camille and her family too!”
“Nonsense! Pichard territory is Surla. Unlikely that someone like him would take the effort to find us, just for some Siglins.”
Gervais frowned, but nodded, more hoping than believing.
They almost reached the meeting place, as they heard a scream coming from some back-alley behind them. Monique instinctively jumped to the side, where she hid behind a carriage. Gervais only turned around, squinting in hopes to see more in the dark.
A figure stumbled out of one alley across the street and disappeared into the next one.
“Idiot! Get down!”, hissed Monique as quietly as possible. Torn from the Moment, Gervais came back to his senses and jumped to his wife.
“I think they need help.”, said Gervais, looking up from behind the carriage.
“Have you gone mad?” Moniques hand landed on her husband’s cheek with a smack.
The rather soft hit still burned Gervais’ skin. “That is not our problem. What if it is Pichard’s men?”
Both looked over the carriage once again, towards the alleys. Nobody came out of both sides. Neither victim nor perpetrator. As Gervais’ eyes returned to his wife, he saw the red clouds forming the runlets next to them, running down the street towards the beach.
“They’re wounded!”
“Oh no, you wouldn’t.”
“I am a doctor! I must help. I can help. Look, nobody is coming. I should at least check if they are alright.” Gervais looked at Monique with a stern expression.
“Oh, you and your childish morals!”
“An oath! To help and heal people!”