chapter 4 : inside

The climb wasn’t long from the Grey Market to the surface. A wide yet steep staircase, carved into the stone, was going up the equivalent of three stories, a few candles lighting the illicit path in dim light for the safety of its urban users. Sarya could feel her heart thumping inside her chest as she eagerly climbed those steps, feeling almost feverish at the prospect of exploring the city in the shadows of which she spent her entire youth. As she was pulling her dress up her ankles to move more freely, Sarya also discovered that the handrail was providing a surprisingly useful help with the crude staircase. She mustn’t have been used to move in such a heavy dress, she thought, as she felt her balance more precarious than she was used to. Of course, Sarya simply needed to glance down at her bulging cleavage to find a more obvious explanation to her less secure footing, but she stubbornly refused to perceive the bountiful mounds of bouncing flesh as anything but a blessing since they started getting bigger. Thinking that her ripe and ever-growing breast could be heavy enough to shift her center mass was ludicrous in her mind.

At the end of the climb, Sarya sighed in relief, feeling a little red on the cheeks. She stood under a large stone arch, which led to a small room with walls made of crude and much more recent masonry, most likely a hidden room that wasn’t on the original prints of the building. A discreet oak door, guarded by two rugged men, seemed to be the way in and out of this place. Sarya showed her papers to the men, who seemed confused by her appearance. They had been expecting a scrawny thief straight from the slums, not a buxom noble with such a well-fed physique. Little did Sarya knew, but she was already a bit plump by Malgoren standards, the abundance and luxury of the upper classes being only matched by their vanity and worship of self-discipline. The dress she was wearing was in fact the former propriety of a foreign visitor. It was of local style, of course, but had been custom fitted for this decadent young noble. No self-respecting noble girl in the capital would ever allow herself to display such a plump physique. Having one’s tummy curving outward was only expected of middle-aged ladies with a few children behind them. Luckily for Sarya, she was blessed with a stunning hourglass figure, making her softer form more socially acceptable, but her curves were going to attract attention, even in this place.

After an awkward exchange with the doormen, Sarya finally went through the secret door, finding herself in what seemed like a large and dusty cellar. Crates and various bags of supplies where piled in a semi-chaotic way, clearly in an attempt to disguise the secret market’s access in the mess. The young ex-thief could hear distant raucous over her head, a clear sign she was right under the Three Calices, in the belly of the great inn. She also noticed a large wooden platform nearby, surrounded by a complex set of thick ropes and gearings. She guessed it was some sort of lift to carry barrels and other heavy charges. Although it rested on the cellar’s floor, Sarya remembered having seen it lowered down to the Grey Market at a few occasions. The stairway was pretty steep; it made sense that the bulk of the illicit trade wouldn’t be carried by hand.

Slowly, the ex-pickpocket walked through the dim-light on the dusty cellar, until she found yet another staircase, this time made of wood and of much better construction. This one was far easier to climb, and far shorter, its wide and robust oaken doorway leading straight in a part of the inn’s kitchen, where Sarya crossed path with a couple of wealthy looking individuals that were clearly making their way down. The buxom brunette smiled with enthusiasm, the young street urchin feeling almost ecstatic as she crossed path with these Malgoren citizens, as if she was part of them. She even performed a clumsy curtsy that caused her large earthy bosom to sway ponderously inside her green dress, her deep cleavage dragging most of the attention of the confused couple as they moved past her, barely returning Sarya the politesse, more than confused. Obviously, that kind of etiquette was off the mark at the backdoor access of an illegal market, but how could the young fence know?

Sarya slipped out of the kitchen, lured toward the entrails of the Three Calices by a chorus of voices, laughter, and minstrels’ songs. Biting her plump lower lip, she felt her mouth water as she smelled the flagrance of deliciously well cooked meats, and countless unknown spices and flavours that were obviously too rare of expensive to be known in the shanty towns. Sarya even placed a still slender hand on her soft stomach to keep down the hunger that had just awakened inside her. Her well-fed lifestyle of the last few weeks and made her more ravenous than ever, even during her starving days. It was like her overfed belly could no longer endure being kept empty, not that Sarya intended to suffer any kind of hunger any longer.

However, something almost broke inside the orphan girl’s psyche when she stepped in the great hall of the Three Calices, and saw with her very own eyes the reality of what food was really like. Not tasteless gruel given by charity, not the old bread foraged in the garbage of the shanty town bakeries, not the dry meat stolen to travellers, not even the fatty and comforting food served in the inn she used to sit at. What Sarya saw and smelled, almost tasting it in the air, was real food, true food, made by and for the wealthy and cultured citizens of the capital. Grilled and spiced meats, thick and voluptuous soups and stews, seasoned vegetables glistering with refined oils, delicate and sweet pastries, small candies fruits, and even fish, as fresh as if the city was built by the sea. Most patrons of the inn were having a light meal while discussing around a cup of spiced wine or hard cider, but each plate that Sarya saw was like an otherworldly marvel. All she wanted was to take a bite of everything, to taste everything, to feel what she had been denied by years of misery lived one meal away from starvation. She knew as she entered the inn that she couldn’t step outside in the open city without having indulged in this visceral need. The paved streets, the monuments, the history of the capital, all of that could wait. Sarya was hungry, and this food was all she wanted.