Some say looking down on others comes naturally to the destitute—that once you’re at your lowest, as desperation takes root, you will learn of the instinctive need to find someone you can point to and say: “Aha! That person is worse off than me, aye!”


    If this is truly part of human nature, a coping mechanism or a trained behavior, no one has proven capable of backing such a claim with evidence—but all should heed how, if there were, indeed, a case study for it, should it not be that of the damned, those who’ve sold their souls?


    After all, there is naught but one truth someone who shall one day burn in hell for eternity can tell themselves to sleep at night: “At least I’m not the poor sap the Devil’s feasting on tonight!”


    <hr>


    Tap. Tap. Tap, tap, tap.


    “Oi, Zuzen!” Benjamin’s raspy voice joined the noise, a rotelike tapping that could be traced back to the rolled-up newspaper in his hand. From within the candlelit room, with only that small stained-glass window separating them, the man looked a shapeless shadow in the night. Had the irksome voice not been so recognizable, he would easily be mistaken for a robber or worse.


    Nikola let out a sharp sigh, pondering for the briefest moment whether anyone would believe him if he accused the man of trying to shatter his windows as the tapping grew in its intensity. Neither the building’s age nor the intricate patterns upon it appear to clue Benjamin in as to its historical significance.


    Insufferable, was all his middle-aged workmate was. Had he no need for silver, Nikola would have sought alternative employment long ago. Adianoeta paid too well for him to quit over mere interpersonal relationships—the only path forward was that of resilience. Benjamin was a hassle to deal with, but they were paired off infrequently enough. Other senior employees were far from amicable, but they were bearable.


    As a particularly loud thud followed the tapping, Nikola retrieved his leather bookmark from the far end of his desk, reaching over just enough to feel his back stretch from the motion. After hours of reading, his cramping limbs required a break.


    Not that the columnist would have the opportunity to rest at any point in the near future—they’d be expected to board shortly after dawn. He lived a brisk walk’s distance away from the pier, which afforded him the freedom to work late. The more he got done now, the easier a time he would have upon their return. Nikola should’ve had hours to himself, still, but Benjamin Best, chief photographer at Adianoeta, clearly had other plans.


    Gingerly, he closed the antique book he had been examining. Its cover, one of cloth with corners of marbled paper, was a wonder to behold—it was as delicate as it was beautiful, and had to be handled with care. Well over half the pages remained unreviewed, and so, it might still prove to be the tome he sought. Not only did the time and place of its publication make it a likely candidate when it came to finding the original source Williams had cited, but it was also one of the few possibilities he had yet to see through.


    Fact-checking was not among Nikola’s duties, not in any official capacity, but when you were the youngest in staff, additional tasks just had their way of ending up in your lap. Something told him he would be finding himself responsible for even more of those in the recent future.


    “I’m coming!” he shouted back with no particular intention of actually hurrying on his way out. There were matters he could plausibly need to attend to before leaving, in any case. After ensuring none of the carpet’s corners were improperly folded, he watered the plants and put the fireplace out. His bed was already made, but he fluffed his pillows up again, just in case. Next up were the dining chairs, which he carefully realigned with the table before confirming nothing in the larder was spoiled.


    Once that was all done, he unenthusiastically retrieved a duster from the drawer and made a half-hearted effort at tidying up, at least superficially. His humble abode was far from outright filthy, but it was easy to mistake for uninhabited at points.


    He would no doubt be paying a premium next time he brought the maid over, judging from how many cobwebs had already sprung up, but Nikola was a busy man. That he managed to keep himself from starving between the long work hours was nothing short of a miracle, and his decency’s only saving grace was that he’d wisely kept the furnishings to a minimum. There was a reason why he wouldn’t have guests over even if he’d known anyone to invite in this city.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Now out of excuses and with his bags—or more accurately, bag—already packed, he sent himself off on the walk of shame out the townhouse he leased as residence. The door, for all it croaked, was in working order, which led him to question why Benjamin had ignored its existence in favor of threatening the wellbeing of an antique work of art.


    “Here,” Nikola called out as he twisted the key, carpet bag in hand. He would quite rather travel light and risk finding himself forced to purchase more garments later than go over-encumbered.


    Not all were fond of the gazette’s staff, and you never knew when the necessity might arise to flee for the hills.


    “What took you so long, mate?” Benjamin asked, his voice breaking off into a scoff. His clothes were ruffled under his unbuttoned trench coat, and he chewed on an unlit cigar.


    “We’ve five bells before the deadline, Best,” Nikola made a genuine effort to keep the venom off his tone—oh, this would be a long trip—as he joined the other man. He didn’t make a habit of letting a foul mood get one over him, but these particular circumstances put his patience to the test.


    “It’s proper form to be early, boy.”


    It took them less than a quarter of a bell to reach the pier, their walk an uneventful one through silent sidewalks, the streetlights barely enough for them to watch their step. Benjamin had nearly tripped thrice on the pavement, the stone slippery from the moist green overgrowth, which remained unidentifiable in lighting this dim. The place was seemingly empty, not one person on sight.


    “I never knew you lived this close to it,” the older man noted, as if this were par for the course.


    Nikola gave him the side eye. “I told you as much.”


    “Eh, it’s one thing to see it be true.”


    The younger columnist chose not to respond, instead taking in their surroundings. The boat was already there. He would have been a liar to deny the prospect of long travels above water scared him. What if a candle flipped and torched the boat, out at sea where they would have nowhere to go but down? What if a storm or a previously undiscovered sea beast crossed their path?


    As with all aspects of his employment, it all came down to the money. Nikola Zuzen was quite fond of having the coin to feed and clothe himself.


    Benjamin’s attempts at small talk were met with nods—Nikola did not quite trust himself not to snap at the man responsible for him having to stand for hours on end. Between his time at the desk and this, he was surprised to find his legs were not spasming.


    “Ah, have I erred in my instructions? If so, I apologize,” a voice shouted from within the boat soon after first light. A gentleman in a tailor suit skipped in their direction. As Nikola felt his eyes widen, Benjamin tipped his hat. “Good day to you, boss.”


    The green-eyed man replied with a smile. “Glad to see you made it, Ben—”


    John Adianoeta himself will be traveling with us?


    “—and how thoughtful of you to bring the help! Come, boy! We’ve luggage to load still!”


    Nikola sighed, the bubble bursting. He chose not to waste his breath explaining how he was, actually, here in his official capacity as an employee. John led him to a carriage that had been left off to the side, where half a dozen suitcases rested.


    “My property has already been loaded, but it’s thoughtful of Benjamin to bring someone to take care of his. We leave in half a bell, so make haste.”


    Nikola found himself wishing Benjamin had actually been a threat to his window—at least, then, he might have been spared from the odyssey that was his presence being required here.


    He loaded the luggage, nonetheless, his ears growing warm under his long blond hair, which hung loose as to project an image of indifference—that, and it was easier to leave it be than to keep up with whichever hairstyles were popular this season.


    “That will be all,” John Adianoeta dismissed him, and that was what it took for Nikola to speak up.


    “Sir, I work for you. The name’s Nikola Zuzen, junior columnist with The Adianoeta Gazette?”


    “…Oh. Forgive me—you must understand I haven’t the time to memorize the faces of all new hires.”


    “It’s understandable, sir. I’ve only been in your employ for three years.”


    They stood in uneasy silence for a moment that stretched on forever. John turned to the side, seeking the swiftest path that would take him inside. He glanced at Nikola from the corner of his eye. “After you?”


    Nikola suppressed a sigh.


    This is going to be a long, long trip.