FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

_ Part 6 _

Sunday evening wound up being the perfect time for our first trip out for dinner. Compared to our first pass of Ibarra's earlier that day... it still wasn't quiet, for sure, but it'd got way less busy. From what I'd seen of Arlone so far, I'd put a good sum of money on 'less busy' being the best case scenario at a lot of places.

As for the restaurant itself, it didn't disappoint. The service was good, and their food even better. Decent Estordorian food wasn't easy to get back home, which kicked the whole experience a couple of notches higher still. To top it all off, for a place specialising in seafood, the stank of fish wasn't anywhere near strong enough to put me off my bean and sausage stew.

The only thing to put a dampener on the evening however didn't come from the restaurant, or the staff. It came instead from the customers around us. Perhaps Sasha and I were to blame. Maybe we should have kept to speaking Polcian between ourselves. Perhaps then the older otter couple on the next table would've stopped glancing our way every five minutes. At the time, optimistic me wondered whether they were just curious over hearing a foreign language. After the time however, back at our hotel, pessimistic me realised we'd been sitting in a restaurant in the middle of Arlone. Hardly a small place lacking diversity. A few more tables over, we had a whole group of people speaking what I assumed to be some other language or dialect native to Polcia. The otters sure didn't appear to take issue with_them_.

It would've been good to get Sasha's take on the incident, but judging by his lack of reaction at the time, I figured he'd not noticed. If he did, he'd done a damn good job of brushing it aside.

I tried not to let it bug me that much. After all, for that single table, there were plenty more that paid us no mind. The restaurant staff, too. It wasn't a big deal. Everything was fine.

With my parents' advice to keep rested still ringing in my ears, I made sure to get myself to bed at a decent hour. Before eleven at least. That in turn brought with it an early rise the next morning. Well... eight-thirty. Early for me on a day where I didn't need to be anywhere specific.

I'd left Sasha with my laptop after I'd turned in for the night. He'd asked permission to borrow it to check on Sunday's hockey scores, and to get a quick game of Republica in before bed. I guess that 'quick' game ended up stretching into another marathon, because I woke to find him sprawled out, face down and snoring like a buzzsaw. Not a hope of him waking up anytime soon, I thought. Perfect. A chance to do more researching into my parents... birth parents' contact information. Granted, Ma and Dad still played on my mind. Enough to ensure that any thought about finding my Polcian parents ended with 'but what about them?'.

After our call yesterday, I couldn't stop thinking of home. My family. No way did I ever want to hurt them... but I needed this. It had to happen... in secret.

Keeping on tiptoes, I gathered some clothes to throw on for a trip down to reception. My fear over turning up unannounced and scaring my birth parents away remained constant. There'd be no guarantee it'd end up playing out the same way, but if I could just call them, talk to them first, maybe it'd ease them into the idea of meeting.

It'd be a long shot, but late last night, I pondered over whether I'd have more luck finding their number in a local phone book, rather than the national directory I'd searched online back in Velika. It couldn't hurt to try.

"Good morning." The young snow leopard working the reception desk beamed. "How can I help you?"

"Good morning." I shuffled around the luggage of the impeccably-dressed moose tapping away at the monitor beside me. "It may be a strange question, but I am hoping to get a copy of the telephone directory for Arlone. Do you have a copy?"

Her polite expression faltered just for a second, attempting to hide the puzzled frown she flashed.

"You see, I have... colleagues that live here, and I do not have their number to contact them on. I have tried online, but without success."

"I see," she replied. Her apologetic tone had me prepping for disappointment. "We don't have one I'm sorry to say. They actually stopped printing physical copies a few years ago--"

The moose next to me grunted out loud, leaning over to crash our conversation completely. "-Ar detta Komplett?-"

"-Ja. Du ar klar.-"

He paid me absolutely no mind as his arm extended right in front of my muzzle. Curling a finger, he summoned over some poor mink porter. Without another word, the grunting moose and his overpriced suit turned to leave. As for the porter, he battled to haul a trolley full of luggage that must've outweighed him twice over across the foyer.

"Cock," I muttered to myself. Yeah, that guy might've had... I guess Vitmaric, but I had Velikan.

"Agreed," replied the receptionist.

I grabbed the desk to stop from rebounding so hard. "You speak Velikan, too?"

"I get by." Back came her smile. "In answer of your question, the online directory is the complete version. If your colleague's number is not listed there, it suggests that it is not listed."

"Do you know of any other way I could find it?"

"I am sorry, I do not. If it is unlisted, it is not public record."

I nodded. Strange as it may sound, finishing off this conversation in my native tongue took the edge off my disappointment. "Thanks anyway."

"You are welcome." As I shifted to walk away, she added, "My name is Alice. Do not hesitate to call down if you require more assistance."

"Thank you." Back to the elevators I walked, carrying way more spring in my step than I ought to have.

"Select seventh floor."

'Heading to... Seventh floor.'

The elevator car eased into motion. Alone, I rested back against the panelling, watching the floor numbers slowly tick upwards.

Disappointing as it was to fail, at least I knew my only course of action. I'd have to show up in person. No call. No forewarning. Just show up and hope for the best.

I thought back to our arrival in Arlone. All those thousands of people crowding the streets, making it tough to keep moving forwards. At times it felt like I'd brought more than a few of them along with me, right inside my head.

On one side, I had reservations over this entire plan. These people I so wanted to see had abandoned me. Did nothing to contact me after leaving me in that boys' home. Ma and Dad were the ones who'd cared for me. Loved me. The only thing I owed Mr and Mrs. Tressider was to forget all about their existence.

But, on the other side, I knew that wouldn't do. I couldn't forget about where I'd come from. That I had family here. The curiosity that started me down this path would never die. It would fester away, eating at me until I did something stupid... Like spend almost a full month's pay on some half-baked plan to travel all the way to Polcia.

'This is the... Seventh floor.'

I stepped out of the car and started back to the room. Aside from all of that, I had questions. Ones that I deserved answers to...

"...you work, damn it."

Sasha's familiar barking welcomed my return. He still looked half asleep, standing shirtless at the end of the darkened entry hall. "Lights, turn on!"

The room illuminated as I closed the door behind me. "You're up already."

"Only just now. Not had time to do much other than try and get this light to turn on."

"They_are_ on. You just turned them on--"

"Not those! The lamp."

Kicking off my trainers, I moved to get a better idea of the latest problem to get him riled up. As I thought, every other light in the room was on... all except his bedside lamp.

"This all cool and novel and all, but it's kinda stupid having pretty much everything controlled by voice, y'know?" He turned one-eighty, throwing an arm towards the bathroom. "It took me... gods know how long to remember the right phrase to unlock the door last night."

"You forgot 'Door, unlock'? Really?"

"Just for a little... I thought for sure I'd locked myself in!"

"You know, there's a manual button for the lock, too." He went blank. Gormless. "On the wall next to it."

"Then what's the point in the voice shit at all!?"

"It's just how it is here." I slipped past to round his bed and head towards my own. "Kind of efficient in some ways."

"Overcomplicated more like," he fired back.

An argument was all I needed right then. Lowering myself to my bed, I simply suggested, "People are used to it here. Or they get used to it."

"Alright. So what do you suggest to get this damn lamp working?"

Did it matter? He had every other light working... "Have you tried the power button?"

"The what?"

"Check the base."

His ears splayed. Mouth finally closed, Sasha leaned over to get a better look. He reached down to the button on my side of the base. A single flick got his lamp working just as well as mine. "...Thanks."

"No problem."

I left him to get on with whatever he'd intended before I came back to the room. Firing up my laptop, I figured there'd be no harm in having one last check of the phone directory. While I couldn't find details back in Velika, maybe I'd have better luck over here in Polcia. Yeah, it was clutching at the smallest set of straws, but what did I have to lose?

Of course, on reflection, my idea made zero sense. The exact same information was available here as was back home. That was final. I'd have to find a way to Victory Hill, and arrive there unannounced...

"Any ideas on what you wanna do today?"

I waved that away. Sasha could decide. I'd lost a whole day already and I didn't want to lose another. It wouldn't take long to find a route to--

"We gotta do something."

"You decide," I spat. "I just need to do something first."

"I decided yesterday... mostly. There's gotta be something _you_wanna do while you're over here."

He damn sure wasn't wrong, except that 'something' was looking more and more likely to be delayed. Again.

"I don't wanna spend the whole morning in the room again. Even if it means getting back out amongst the locals..."

"Wow, you really don't wanna deal with them that much?"

"Have you not noticed?" I shrugged. "The locals. Whenever we speak Velikan, a shitty look from somebody ain't never too far behind."

"There are people like that everything. Hell, we get that back home on our way to work!"

"Not like this. It ain't nothing like this back home. Did you see that old couple at the restaurant last night? The otters at the table next to us.

"I saw 'em."

"At home, it's curiosity... Stupid as that is. Velikans speaking Velikan in Velika, what a shock!"

"I think there's more to it than--"

"Whatever the reasons, that shit last night... You could see the hate."

I opened my mouth to dismiss that as daft thinking... but the memories came flooding back. The glances we got were different. Their narrowed eyes. Those muffled, muttered words between them. It wasn't curiosity. Maybe Sasha had a point. First time for everything.

"You saw it, too. Didn't ya?"

"Okay, yeah. We got sat next to an old pair of xenophobes. That can happen anywhere. Plus, I didn't see anyone else there giving us a hard time."

"Fine. What about ol' bucky from that bar yesterday? And his meathead friends? That sure was a fun time had by all."

"I'd wager he's got way more going for him in the prick department than having an issue with Velikans."

"No shit, but when it comes to us, it's all gonna come down to one common thing."

"It will," I conceded. "It's not all bad here, though."

"No?"

"I just had a nice conversation with the receptionist downstairs." He threw out a paw, tutted, shaking his head. "In Velikan."

"Wait. For real?"

"Yeah. There's a snep down there. She speaks three languages at least."

"Pfft." He jumped back to flop onto his bed. "To think, we had to come all this way to find a Polcian willing to speak Velikan."

"Nice souvenir, I think."

"Yeah maybe... Bet she thought you were Bolstrovan or something anyway."

"Pessimist."

"Fuckin' realist more like." He tossed a pillow at my head. "So what were you down at reception for?"

"Not much." I wiped at a fake itch in my eye, taking some extra time in showing my face again. "Just asking more about that breakfast deal they were advertising when we checked in."

"And?"

"It's expensive." I was guessing, but in a hotel this upmarket I wasn't likely to be wrong!

"Are you really gonna make me?"

"Make you what?"

He took his pillow back... and threw at me again. "Suggest food to get us out of here for the third time running."

"Looks that way." I hurled his pillow back. Missed.

"You suck." Up he jumped, heading for the bathroom. "Alright, imma get cleaned up. Then we can go do breakfast."

"Fine."

"After that we can go from there."

The en suite door slid open and closed behind him. I turned back to my laptop... Time to shut down and delay my work yet again.

We got ourselves out of the hotel about half an hour later, just after nine; late enough to hopefully miss the worst of the Monday morning commute.

Quiet is not a word I'd use to describe the scene we found outside, no chance. But, it was better. In the least, we had space to walk without brushing shoulders with someone every five seconds. I could even check my phone for directions without fear of getting mown down from behind by a hurried local.

We watched a few workers make late rushes to their offices and workplaces, but that aside, I'd go so far as to say that the streets were close to calm by half past nine.

Whether it came from the thinner crowds, or the different route we took from the hotel, we had much better luck finding decent food options. Also, they all came with the added benefit of not looking completely overcrowded.

Finding ourselves something explicitly 'breakfast focused' might have been pushing our luck, so instead, I decided we'd settle on some custom sandwich place... Aptly named 'Mike's Custom Sandwiches'. Food was food, and we weren't too far from lunchtime anyhow.

A chipper bell sounded our arrival through the door, our greeting coming in the form of freshly-baked bread. Sasha drove right on for the end of the queue, but I took my time. These kinds of places threw me off rhythm sometimes. Yeah, choice is great, but when you're offered five types of bread, a whole mess of meats, cheeses and more vegetables than you figured ever existed, paralysis by indecision gets to be a very real thing. Luckily, this place had some ready made 'favourites' listed for selection. Great. I could let myself enjoy this.

I decided to go with a 'Meerlander Special': ham, two types of cheese and something they called 'spiced' mayonnaise. Sasha ahead of me went more adventurous, opting for chicken in a thick barbecue sauce, with a whole mess of different vegetables on top. The resulting creation put together by the wolf sandwich builder looked impressively 'custom'... I had to wonder if it was what he expected. I mean, Sasha did do well with his Polcian, only once having to really think over the word 'pickle'... but pickle and barbecue sauce? Maybe I shoulda checked.

"Good morning," sang the cashier as I reached her; a fellow red panda. "Did you have the Meerlander Special?"

"Correct."

She smiled, brushing back her long, blue streaked head fur. "Something to drink?"

"Do you have strawberry juice?"

"What juice, sorry?"

"Strawberry," I repeated, slower.

"Oh!" Her smile got wider. She peered back over her shoulder to the fridge behind. I noticed the blue-dyed tip of her swaying tail. "Sorry. Orange or berry only."

"No problem. Berry, please."

She swagged over to grab a bottle. Not once did that smile of hers disappear. In fact, it spread to me, too.

"That'll be eight ducats, please." I placed my currency card to the reader. Her next question tripped me a touch. "I like your accent."

"Oh." I had shock smacked all over my face, no question. "Really?"

"Mhmm." She handed me my drink, creasing eyes fixed to mine. "Where are you from?"

I stood there. Paralysed. The answer clung tight to the tip of my tongue, needing me to force it off. "Velika. Zelengorod."

"Cool!" Everything lifted. Her ears and mine included. "Uh... You were born there?"

"Born and raised."

"Wow... Is there a lotta Polcians born in Velika?"

"Heh." I allowed the 'Polcian' remark to be glossed over. "More than you would think."

"Never knew... Oh!" She jolted, spinning to my sandwich still waiting her side of the counter. "I'm sorry!"

"No problem."

"Here you go. Enjoy!"

"Thanks." No missing her wink as I accepted it. "Uh... I will do."

"What you so cheery about?" Sasha pressed on my approach to the table he'd claimed.

"Ah... Nothing, really."

"You sure?" He smirked as I settled into the seat opposite him. "You're looking way happier than any sandwich should make a guy?"

"I_am_ pretty hungry, man."

"Same."

The foil gave way to our claws. I couldn't resist. "Did you really mean to order pickle?"

"Yeah."

"With barbecue chicken?"

"Why not?"

"Weird combo."

He reached inside his parcel, retrieving a one half of a whole pickle. "Separate. It ain't on the sandwich."

"Oh."

"Didn't ya read the menu over the counter?"

"Did_you?_"

"Hey, if you're gonna give me shit about my Polcian, I've got my basics down, okay?"

"Yeah, but you're the one who asked the word for it."

"For pronunciation." Paw on his chest, he added, "If I'm gonna gonna speak Polcian, I'm gonna do it right."

"Alright." I held up my own paws. "Sorry to have doubted your oh so superior linguistics."

"Damn right." Sasha moved to pick up his sandwich, but hesitated. "Oh, by the way. I wanted to tell ya something earlier."

"This sounds ominous."

"Nah, nothing like that. Look." Out popped the earplugs of his Normaliser; a sight that never failed to come as a shock.

"What are you doing?"

"This is what I wanted to tell ya." He paused. Watched me.

"Tell me wha--?"

"The Normalisers, fuzzbrain. We don't need 'em here."

Another shock. "Man, I forgot all about these." I lifted my paws to my ears, unclipping and nursing out the earpieces. "Washing aside, I don't ever take them out."

"Yeah, same." Sasha went another step further, pulling its 'voice booster' out from the white fur of his throat. A couple of clicks and a tug later, he'd removed the collar holding it in place around his neck. "Feels weird like this. So damn used to wearing it."

Again, I followed his lead. For something I barely noticed for ninety-nine percent of the day, taking it off did a good job of making me feel naked. But Sasha was right. Here in Polcia, without any larger friends or acquaintances to think about, they weren't necessary. No risk of hearing damage from someone shouting right by us, nor any chance of not being heard because our voices were 'too small'. "Kinda liberating."

"I wouldn't go that far," Sasha replied, tucking his set into his pocket. "But you sure do notice the difference in your ears."

The first test for our 'naked' ears came from the plate suddenly set down beside me. I followed the black-furred arm that'd placed it, finding the white masked face of the cashier who'd served me positively glowing. "Uh... Hi there."

"This is for you," she cooed.

I glanced back down to her offering. The folded pastry topped with white icing looked real good... but I had to answer, "Oh, thanks... but I did not order this?"

"It's from me." That blue tail tip fanned away behind her. "A treat."

It wasn't hard to catch Sasha in my periphery, the corners of his eyes rising, muzzle masked behind a tightly clasped paw. I could almost hear the laughter he'd barely contained within himself.

"Thank you very much." My smile earned back one twice as wide from the cashier. Regardless... this was awfully sweet of her.

"You're welcome." She hopped on her heels, allowing the red and brown rings of her tail to swish softly as she turned to depart. "Have a lovely day."

"Yeah, Kaz." I closed my eyes. Too bad I couldn't do the same with my ears. "Have a lovely day, won't you."

"Don't."

"Stud."

"Stop."

"Player."

"Fuck off, man."

All his snorting and snickering burst through to the surface. It took me a moment, granted, but I did manage to find the funny side, too. Kinda. "Man, what the hell?"

"She wants you." He reached to spin and examine the plate. "Did she leave you her number anywhere?"

"As if."

"Huh..." He nudged it away, towards me. "Nothing."

"See?"

"Hey, you never know! Coulda been your lucky day."

"Lucky day? Man, she reminds me of my sister." Sasha hacked out yet another chuckle as I turned to watch her serve another customer. "Can't be much older, either."

"But didn't I tell you?"

His jabbing at my paw pulled me back to our table. "Tell me what?"

"There's plenty other girls out there."

"Yeah..." I folded my arms. "And didn't I tell you that it's not all bad here? Not all Polcians hate us."

His eyes rolled. "Okay. Fine. They ain't all bad here. But did you actually say you were Velikan this time?"

"Yes. I did." I allowed myself a smug smirk. "So, again, I told you it's not all bad here."

"Maybe the pandagirl's just so totally taken with the hot pandaboy from Velika, that she's willing to ignore that one glaring, otherwise unforgivable fault."

"Oh what the fuck ever. You're just jealous it's not you that she's going after."

"Hey, woah now." He held out his palms, head lowered into a bow. "I'm more than willing to let you have one once in a while."

"That's so generous of you. Really. Thank you so, so much."

"Don't mention it, hot stuff."

We both left it there. Sasha went back to his mess of a sandwich and I returned to mine. My pastry gift waited there all the while. I couldn't help but smile.

Finished up with breakfast... lunch... brunch, we stepped back out under the cover of tower after grey tower. Hoping to stumble upon something cool or interesting, the sensible option I figured would be to keep heading in the opposite direction from yesterday.

We had the advantage of a map via our phones, but let me tell you, Arlone on a screen is a damn sight more condensed than Arlone in person. I lost track of how long and how far we'd walked. All I did know was it wasn't anywhere close enough to get away from the same scene; shiny skyscrapers, concrete plazas followed by even more shiny skyscrapers. Never let it be said the Arlone's bloated, neverending office district was without variety...

It didn't seem to matter where you stood around here, you just couldn't get a good view of the sky. Usually the grey that got you down at home would come from wintery cloud cover, but here, I'd wager the non-stop rows of buildings and screens repeating ads over and over could overwhelm you even on a good day. You'd walk and walk, hoping to get out of the shade and feel the sunlight on your fur, only to constantly find another, larger tower guarding you from the sensation. One might expect to be forever in the cold because of that, but the traffic helped ensure that'd never be an issue. For all the wrong reasons.

Even under cleaner electric power, the sheer volume of vehicles rolling by created a closeness that made breathing that little more tougher, sending your tongue lolling in search of cooler, fresher air. And there I was earlier, outside the hotel, thinking on about how it'd got 'less busy'. People, again, were everywhere!

We came to yet another crowded junction. Above, footbridges running between two massive office buildings teemed with as many workers as there were pedestrians here at ground level. To our left, further down the six-lane street we stood in wait to cross, a metro train bulleted past on an elevated section of track. This was our second full day in Polcia, but still, I half expected to see some larger locals striding by, emerging roughly five stories high from between the buildings. In a way, the city actually seemed lesser for the lack of it. Emptier. But for that reason only.

Beyond the foreground, a bronze-coloured skyscraper rose to tower over everything, forcing the the street to fork off into smaller offshoots, all overloaded with slow-moving traffic. Some of it diverted up onto raised highway sections running either side of the building, while the rest dipped down into tunnels or diverted off in other directions.

The tower itself rose forty maybe fifty storeys high. Bronze coloured panelling became brick, before turning back to bronze again. Way above, there looked to be a penthouse or some kind of deck on the top floor. I didn't recognise it, but this had to be something special.

I reached for my phone, intent on finding out more. Of course, this tiny section of the city didn't remain static for long. The signal ahead turned green. Around us, the natives burst back to full speed and carried Sasha and I along with them.

As much as I might've whined to myself over it, we did spot a few sights to break the monotony of grey. A couple of museums. An art gallery. It added some colour to the walk, even if they couldn't draw our attention enough to force us into a diversion. Personally, my interest in the sights and sounds of the city had waned enough for my attention interest to drift elsewhere completely...

"Hey, cool!" Sasha swerved in front of me, jogging over towards the wide-mouthed entrance of a metro station. He stopped short, taking in an ad board affixed to the outside wall.

"What's that?" I cut through the crowd to join him. "...Douglastown Fur Parlour. What, you wanna get more than your head fur turned bright red?"

"Nah, that's something for you to think about." He tapped the ad beside it. "Not that. This."

"'Common Castles'-- Ah, man, are you serious?"

"They're great!"

"They're not... and you have the front to pipe up and make fun of _my_music."

"You're wrong, and so's your music." His finger ran over the text beneath the abstract stripes of the band's logo... Slowly. It would've been mean to make fun. "Next show... Saturday-- Ah, damn. It's in two weeks. Woulda been so cool to try and go along. They need to start playing outside of Polcia..."

My focus on Sasha and his band's schedule slipped. To my right, people streamed in and out of the metro. A map caught my eye. A route map, fastened to a board splitting the entryway in two. I didn't hesitate in moving for a better look.

Having the entire network spread across a single page required one hell of a wide board, and even then, that wasn't enough. Various sections were magnified on smaller diagrams for the busiest areas, which only made it even trickier to follow. Was this a map of the metro, or a diagram for a circuit board that helped run it?

Victory Hill... At last, I found it all the way down towards my right hip. The yellow route went there. As an added bonus, the purple one did, too. All that remained now was to figure out how to make it to one of them... starting from either the red, blue or green lines that ran through here.

"Kaz, what you doing?"

"Nothing!" The finger tracing over this mess juddered. "Just... checking out how insane this metro they've got here is."

"Damn." Sasha appeared beside me. "And people visiting Zelengorod complain about our metro." He snorted. "This is hardcore."

"You're telling me."

"I can't even find where we are."

"Up here. In this zoomed in section."

"Wait, what?"

"Exactly."

"Let's agree we're not gonna touch this." He took a step back in retreat. "Getting lost underground in the middle of a weird city ain't how I wanna spend a vacation."

An idea sparked in my head. "I wonder if the buses are any better?"

"Can't be any worse than this thing." I caught him glance my way. "You looking to go someplace in particular?"

Sirens sounded. I couldn't tell him. Definitely not here in this manic, crowded mess. The timing couldn't have been worse. "Just keeping options open. Getting tired of this whole walking thing. Literally."

"Glad it's not just me thinkin' that way. A walkway or two would be gods sent right about now..." Sasha went quiet. Usually a cause for concern. "Speaking of buses..."

"What about them?" I followed him away from the metro map, leaving the station foyer to carry on down the street. "Where we heading?"

"That tour we were chattin' about yesterday. I saw one of the buses roll by a little earlier. Figured that might be cool to go check out."

"You never said."

"After how open you've been to doing all the stuff I've suggested so far, I figured I'd keep it to myself."

"Have I been that bad?"

"Kinda." He smiled at least. "I've actually been waiting for you to suggest something. Starting to think our feet are gonna fall off if I carry on waiting any longer."

"Wow, thanks."

"Y'welcome."

"Okay then." I stopped. Fuck the crowds. "Let's do the tour."

"For real?"

"Why not? Trying to find stuff to see this way sure isn't working. A chance to sit down would be cool, too."

"Nice one." Sasha spun around. "We passed a pick up point 'bout five minutes back."

"We did?"

"Yeah!" He gained a skip to his step. Either that, or a limp from all this walking. "Come on! What you waitin' for?"

Thanks to Sasha's sharp eye, we found ourselves one of the roaming green buses in decent time. I sure noticed a whole lot more of them once we'd climbed aboard. Not that it was a too great a feat with how slow the traffic moved around here.

Cool air on my face came real welcome up on the open top deck. Much more preferable to the closeness off the busy pavement below.

I took a look around. All but a handful of seats at the back were occupied by a class of excitable school kids. Closer to us at the front, smiling couples decked out with cameras, maps, kit bags and gods knew what else gawked and gestured towards all sorts. Back home, Sasha and I would've probably joked about how easily impressed tourists were... Except this wasn't home, and in the seat to my right, Sasha was equally taken by our surroundings.

"Hey, that statue."

"What?"

"That's..." He sat up higher, snapping off a photo. "Yeah, yeah. That's Admiral Bythorn"

"Who?"

"Admiral Bythorn?"

"You keep saying that like I should know who he is."

"Naval commander? Sixteenth century? You know, the Linvendian-Meerlander war?"

"Still clueless." I peered down to an old statue of an otter, standing proud in a street corner plaza. "You recognised him? From way up here?"

"Yeah."

"How?" He sat back down, paw clasped tight in his lap. "It's like I said yesterday; I like reading the encyclopedia in Republica... What, you don't?" I didn't quite know how to process that. Guess my face said the same. "What!?"

"Y'know, you're so fuckin' wasted in sales. Seriously."

After a few more minutes of riding, we managed to escape the largest office buildings and most crowded streets. Finally, we could see the blue sky, and at last, my neck could stop aching from the bus squealing to a halt every ten seconds. It also brought our tour guide, a middle-aged, white-muzzled wolf scaling the stairs to prepare for this next stage of the tour.

"Hello, there," he said brightly, speaking into his microphone at the front of the deck. "Welcome to all those who joined us at the last pick up point."

We could hear the teacher behind us bravely trying to shush her rowdy students. The guide pressed on regardless.

"We'll be arriving at the start of our next area of interest shortly. Maybe a minute or two. It'll certainly be of interest to those of you interested in Linvendia's modern history..."

"There you go." I nudged Sasha in the side. "Something to add to all that Republica knowledge of yours."

"Man..." He straightened and fiddled with the tour map he'd picked up upon boarded. "I wish this was in Velikan."

"You can't read it?"

"Hey, I can read Polcian."

"I know, I--"

"I read that concert poster earlier just fine."

"You did--"

"I'm just not great when it comes to reading or listening quick. I don't wanna miss something trying to understand a hard word." He groaned. "There's like eight languages on here. No Velikan."

"Hey, I'll help. It's fine. Just ask."

"Thanks, man." His grip on the map loosened. His posture, too. "Sorry. Feels like I'm at work, is all. All the Polcians chatting to each other, talking fast and throwing their slang around."

"They do that." I nudged him again. "Come on. Forget about work."

"That's usually my line," he said with a grin.

I flashed one back. "Then how about you start listening to your own advice?"

We arrived at the first so-called point of interest a few streets later. As promised, I helped translate a few tricky phrases that the guide used. Mostly though, I reckon Sasha coped better than he expected.

First we saw Riverside Theatre, where Noel Percival put on his first show four centuries ago. Finally, a name a recognised. I remembered having to read his work during literature studies at school. Maybe folk back in those days were easier to please, because it used to send me half to sleep.

The theatre itself stood out drastically; wooden support beams fixed to the painted exterior. A massive contrast to the jagged design of the glass office building on its left, or the brick and metal structures massing to its right. The contrast grew even starker beneath the massive skyscrapers rising up from beyond.

Next up, a couple of junctions down the road, our guide pointed out Arlone Cathedral. It didn't take much effort to find it, mind. It's twin pinnacled towers peaked high above the fenced lawns and gardens of its grounds. Apparently it was once the central point of all Arlone, bordered by markets and cramped, crowded lanes leading off in all directions. The scene had sure changed since those days... "This area has seen extensively rebuilding in modern times. The current layout you see here is drastically changed from the historic geography that came before..."

My throat began to dry. A cough cleared the small lump that threatened to develop. No doubts over where the guide was going with this.

"...historic sights that could be salvaged, like the cathedral, were repaired as close as was possible to their original designs following the Great War."

Once it emerged, the war would remain a common theme to this tour. I wondered if it was intentional, or if the guide simply had a hang up about it. Whatever the case, it was tough not to squirm away in my seat.

He kept on noting how old building after historic site after proud landmark had changed since the war with Velika. Explained how they'd changed in appearance, layout, or in most cases, how there'd been no choice but to rebuild from the ground up. No wonder why everything here had developed to be so modern and metal... cold and grey.

The guide kept on going, relentless, laying it on thicker than I suspect he'd ever realise. Even when discussing something as innocuous as a memorial to some famous inventor, standing outside their childhood home, it ended with a mention of how the original memorial, the house, and the entire street itself had been flattened and rebuilt.

All throughout, the wolf remained balanced and calm. I suppose he'd run this tour several times a day for weeks, months, maybe even years. This was all matter of fact for him. That couldn't stop me from pondering over the thoughts he might hide inside... ones dressed up in polite professionalism.

A bump in the road derailed my runaway brain. I'd totally forgotten to keep up my translation duties for Sasha... but he'd understood this all well enough. His blank stare summed up my own creeping numbness. I leaned closer, muzzle brushing his ear.

"I think it is best for us to stick to Polcian for now," I whispered.

He pulled away. Mute. Disarmed. I expected defiance, insistence over the importance of remembering we were Velikan. Instead, all I got back was a short, firm nod.

The tour up to that point had been one of the longest twenty-seven minutes of my life. We'd passed through a whole range of different areas, passing countless different sights. I hoped I'd be forgiven for allowing most to pass by without much thought. It'd take until the bus reached a brief interlude in the tour to be coaxed out from my shell, coasting along a highway carving a path through the now-familiar forest of office towers.

Even through all my internalising, my hiding from the world around us, it would've been impossible to ignore what revealed itself next.

Our road curved to the left, bowing to a broken, imposing section of metal rising up ahead. It must've stood ten storeys high, judging by the buildings toeing the line around it, and probably three times than in width. It bore scratches and imperfections, appearing well-kept but ready to tumble all at once. Seeing that jumped here, jagged edges sticking out incredible and quite literally in the middle of a crowded city, made absolutely zero sense.

"Ahead of us, which I'm sure need no introduction to most of you here, are the remnants of Barrier Four..."

Our guide's... lack of explanation only puzzled me further. Sasha, too, gauging by the look we shared.

"As the name might suggest, this here formed part of the largest defensive wall constructed on this front of the war." The wolf gestured along the skyline. "With the other three, it served as a guard around Arlone's political and military centre, and the refugee camps built for those evacuating captured areas of the city, and areas further afield..."

"Are you getting this," I muttered to Sasha. Another nod in return.

"...Other fortifications meanwhile were built in an attempt to prevent the Velikan army's advance any further west. You may have seen some of their exteriors still standing, and in some cases, still in alternate use around the city..."

Our guide went on to talk about how the walls were rushed through construction in the months leading up to the war. He also decided to touch on the early-era energy weaponry that sat atop the bulwark, and how it inspired whatever defenses Arlone and the rest of Polcia had today. Honestly, I only half heard any of that. I was far too busy whispering with Sasha, asking 'did you know about this?' again and again. Maybe Republica didn't include all this in its encyclopedia... Not a problem, though. Guide wolf wasn't done yet.

"It's worth repeating, just so you can appreciate the scope of it all..." More paw waving, this time in a circle around him. "Almost everything east of here, the areas we've mostly seen so far this morning, has only existed as it stands for fifty years or so. Beyond the barriers, the 'safe' area still suffered a great deal of damage, but some landmarks such as the Courthouse, and Parliament Hall, survived largely intact. We'll see both of those a little later..."

No wonder the courthouse stood out and impressed so much. I was wrong by calling it an old design in a new world. It was a remnant in an world rebuilt.

We curved back to the right, passing the remains of this former barrier. I'd hoped to get a view inside the open edge, see if it was pure, intensely thick metal, or if there were rooms inside or whatever. Unfortunately, it seemed to have been walled off long ago.

Beyond the wall, the urban sprawl stopped to give pause. Grey turned to green; trees surrounded grassland. Empty... but full...

"To your right, we have the Central War Cemetery; the largest burial site in the city."

Line after line of small white monuments stretched almost out of sight, stopping only for the distant treeline. Everything here, from the claustrophobic buildings to the barrier shard itself, paid their respects, offering these grounds space to stand alone.

"...One of the final battles in the Siege of Arlone took place a short distance from here, between Velikan infantry and the Polcian Defence Force. Only a week later, Velika gave their surrender and the Great War came to an end. As such, this site was chosen as the first post-war military cemetery, intended as a way to honour those who had given everything..." Cameras clacked away. Those schoolkids kept on barking and yelping. City traffic roared on around us. Through it all, Sasha and I just sat there. Silent.

The tour must have circled back at some point, or I'd totally lost track of our position amid all these cheerful, happy vibes, because that bronze building we'd walked by earlier proved to be our next stop. As it turned out, this place was the 'Unity Tower' that Sasha mentioned about on our first day here. And, not to disrupt this ongoing theme, it was another building to survive the war, albeit damaged. Postwar, the city helped repair it, and the owners added an observation deck on top. It became the tallest building in the country at the time, and a symbol of not just Linvendia's, but all of Polcia's resilience.

"I think we should get off," Sasha announced, in Velikan, barely waiting for the bus to reach the pick up point. "Think I'm done for now."

"Yeah." No arguments here. We left the happy couples, the loud kids and their heroically patient teacher behind. Following the guide back downstairs, we blurted out our thanks and leapt off onto the pavement. I never thought I'd be so happy to return back to the cramped, heaving streets. Sasha, too, from the sounds of things.

"I didn't realise the tour was gonna be so... political."

"Being here... helps you realise that the war was a huge thing."

"No doubt."

"Makes sense they remember it. Hard to blame them."

"It sure helps when they've still got chunks of metal sitting around. Hard to get past anything with reminders like that about the place. Fuckin' bizarre."

I kinda agreed, to a point. It was tough to understand why. "I never knew about things like that. The barrier. The size of that graveyard-- and the largest, so... it's one of many."

"All Mr. Marin focused on back at finishing school was the junta," Sasha insisted. "How bad they were and how they got the country into the Polcian war in the first place."

"Well... I guess it was 'Velikan' history class."

"Yeah, I get that, but do you remember covering all that much back in high school before that? Other than the basics?" I shook my head. Sasha grabbed a clump of his bright red head fur. "Man, this is a mindfuck."

The tour bus rumbled away to carry on along its route, leaving us to the crowd and Unity Tower beyond it. I remembered the observation deck; a better option than many.

"You wanna head up there?" Sasha followed my upward pointing. "Take a look? Maybe have our own tour... minus the politics."

He loosened his grasp, allowed a release via a huff through his nose. "Sure. Can't be no more drama than that, right?"