Aligning the Forgotten ✓

Chapter 33: Celestine

The guillotine around every corner doesn't change Celestine's opinion about this city. As did the screaming that took place all night, forcing her eyes to remain open until the sun began to rise over the buildings and cast a sheen over Lona's secret-filled streets, the only truth being the rolled head, the dried blood, and everything else left behind.

Celestine can hardly keep her eyes open, Dalis is in the same predicament. Neither of them could sleep a wink. They laid in the bed with knives tucked against their chests, gripping tight onto the handles and waiting in case someone threatened to break into their inn room for a round of midnight fun.

The little they were able to sleep was taken in turns, one remained awake while the other tossed and turned, half in the world of slumber and half in recognition with the world. Celestine's eyes burn with exhaustion and she tries to blink it away as she walks through the market, carefully surveying the items for sale in front of her.

This is the first true market she's been to, the one in Arego was hardly anything more than the citizens selling things they didn't need anymore or clothing handcrafted by the most skilled residents. None of it had ever been exciting, Celestine stopped visiting towards the end but missed it dearly now that the village is no longer standing.

The market is the only safe space in Lona. No one is allowed to pick fights, challenge others to battles, steal, or commit any other illegal acts they're prone to include themselves in. Purposes are to buy and sell, to wager a price and likely end up with something you paid too much for, only to take it with pride and spend less on other luxuries.

Finding the descendant isn't just going to a rooftop and shouting for a name. It's asking citizens, the ones that hide in the shadows or the victims of brutal beatings with scars on their faces, blind in one eye, their teeth missing, or their skin burned to a reddish bump. They hold the truth to the descendant's location but, they can't ask anyone.

A careful screening process by Dalis will ensure they're approaching the right witch with their troubles. Not the witches selling clothing fabrics, sewing supplies, tools, or weapons. Those are the ordinary items sold, there's nothing other than what's on the surface of their supply. It's the ones with darting eyes they need to go after, the witches selling potions and rare crystals claiming to grant immortality to those craving such a luxury.

Celestine and Dalis won't frequent the stalls selling out in the open, rather the shadowed tents with dark flaps and an undeniable stench of mystery leaking from the tattered fabric. They tiptoe around who they should talk to, carefully sizing up the merchants without making eye contact with anyone.

They're merely two women shopping for supplies. Dalis is skilled at this, Celestine realizes, she acts interested in nearly everything and even picks up a necklace from a broad selection of jewelry. She holds it up to her tunic, presses the diamond against her chest, and her eyes sparkle with delight.

Sometimes, she goes so far as to ask for a price, only to pout and shake her head. Celestine doesn't realize what her goal is, she's simply drawing attention to them; until they're in the thick of the market and no one—not even the merchants—are paying attention to them. Dalis is behaving obviously, picking out her favorite items for sale, only to be discouraged by the price. The merchants, knowing she can't afford their wares, turn the other cheek when they realize she's not a buyer, not a seller, and definitely not a stealer.

Although they take twice as long to get where they need to go, Dalis's tactic is unbreakable. Celestine can hardly believe it; how a kitchen servant can be so sniveling and so smart to make herself appear like a different version of herself. For someone that hasn't seen much of the world, she definitely knows how to act in it.