6.25 – A Disoriented Fox I

6.25 – A Disoriented Fox I

Delta stirred to wakefulness. Plush pillows and cool, soft bedsheets caressed her body. She didn't think she'd ever been so comfortable in her life. It was like she was sleeping in a bundle of clouds pulled from the heavens themselves.

It was ... unfamiliar.

Her slow, gentle emergence into wakefulness abruptly shifted. Her muscles stiffened, brain jolting into awareness, and she shot up in bed, instantly on edge, purple eyes scanning the space she found herself in.

The sight that met her didn't make sense.

She was in ... a palace bedroom. She didn't know how else to describe it. Opulence dripped from every wall and corner. She blinked in disbelief as she took in her surroundings.

The room was massive, easily the size of a small house. Sunlight streamed through towering glass windows, lighting up the space with a warm, golden glow. Her bed sat atop a raised dais, the mattress soft and plush, with silken sheets and a plethora of pillows. The frame was made of some kind of polished wood, carved with delicate floral patterns. A sheer canopy hung overhead, the gossamer fabric swaying in the breeze.

To her left, a set of double doors stood open, leading to what appeared to be an opulent bathing chamber. Through the doorway, she could see a sunken marble tub big enough for four people. The floors were tiled in a mosaic pattern.

At the foot of her bed, a plush chaise lounge sat before an unlit fireplace, the mantle carved from the same polished wood as the bed frame. Delta swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet sinking into the thick, plush rug that covered the floor. She ran her hands over the soft fabric of the bedsheets, marveling at their quality.

"What the fuck?"

She'd never in her life seen such a luxurious space. And some of the guildhalls she'd stayed at had been pretty fancy. There was a lot of money in wayfaring. But this was on a whole other level. The kind of place royalty would live.

Slowly, her brain started to catch up. The last thing she remembered, Lucinda had crashed into the ground in front of them like a falling meteor.

Heavens. What advancement was that woman? She'd known Rosalie's mentor was strong, but Delta had assumed fifth, maybe sixth at most. But even those ranks couldn't sail through the air like they were flying. Could they?

She didn't know much about higher advancements. No one did. Besides from stories, in which the hero's accomplishments could easily be overtold for flair. The upper echelons of society were a mystery to people like Delta. To anyone not deeply embedded in high-rank wayfaring circles.

It was equally gorgeous and disgusting. Delta curled her lip, seeing the obscene, wasteful luxury on display. Meanwhile, up in Haven, families like her own were failing to put food on the table and keep roofs over their heads.

Well. Not like her own family anymore. The payments she'd been sending to the surface had taken care of Mom and Dad. But still. The disdain held.

Padding across the plush carpet to one of the towering glass windows, Delta's eyes went wider and wider at the sight that splayed out in front of her.

Delta stared out the window.

Stretched out before her was the city of Mantle in all its glory. It spilled down the side of an impossibly large mountain in a dazzling array of colorful buildings, towers, and winding streets. At the peak sat the palace she was currently in, an opulent manor of white stone and blue-tiled roofs, the crown jewel atop the metropolis.

From her vantage point, Delta could make out row after row of structures descending the mountainside, each level composing its own district. The uppermost half-ring consisted of elegant mansions and tree-lined boulevards, the homes of the wealthy elite. Below that were more densely packed neighborhoods of apartment buildings, shops, and public squares. She could see market districts with winding alleys, aqueducts carrying water between levels, and lush parks tucked into any available space.

The lower she looked, the more ramshackle the architecture became, rickety tenements crammed together, laundry lines stretching across narrow lanes. Even in a place as wealthy as Mantle, slums existed. Society as a whole had more resources to go around in the Fractures, but poverty would always find a way—thanks no doubt to the rich assholes in this very palace.

At the base of the mountain, an enormous shimmering blue ocean reflected the cityscape above it. Oceans were rare in the Fractures. Shards tended to split and morph and stitch together in strange ways in their unfriendly depths. Nonetheless, there were merchant galleys and fishing boats cutting across its surface towards a bustling port district. The oceans, while near impossible to navigate, held plenty of riches, like the rest of the Fractures—and were some of the fastest ways across the collection of pocket dimensions, to the knowledgeable seafarers who sailed them.

The stretching city of Mantle, viewed perfectly from the top of its mountain, was one of the most breathtaking sights Delta had ever seen, and her standards had been raised considerably since venturing down into the Fractures.

This was the heart of a Highguild. The ancestral home of the oldest, arguably most powerful collection of wayfarers in existence.

"Fuck me," Delta muttered, her long fox tail swishing with agitation as she came to the obvious conclusion. What her presence in this palace, at the very peak of Mantle, meant.

The home of the Highguild's leader.

"Rosalie knows the d'Celestins?"