Chapter Five - Trouble

25 Griev 10.075 Z.C., Afternoon

Mav quickly and quietly strolled out of the patisserie, cursing himself. Sometimes he wished he didn’t make such a habit of looking for trouble - it always seemed to follow him. His estranged relationship with Melo meant maintaining any positive connection between them took a lot of effort and always felt forced. He knew he should try harder, but most of the time it felt like she wasn’t meeting him halfway.

Wealthy elites crowded the wide courtyard outside Rhee’s, most crossing his path to reach Plaza West. He looked to his right and sneered - atop those towering white walls sat Plaza West, heady spires that hosted the best restaurants and nightclubs in the entire city. He continued towards his apartment in Precinct Six, deciding to take the long way to cool his head.

He made good time, no doubt due to the subtle berth given to him by the crowd. That always struck him as ironic - here in Precinct One there was an arrester on every corner, shouldn’t that make these uptowners feel safe? Yet as passed, he spotted one or two of them eying him nervously, then glancing around for the nearest arrester.

Mav never felt accepted in ‘polite’ society. It’s why he hated coming here; the wary looks and outright avoidance of upright folk made him feel less like a criminal and more like a monster. He’d been told before it was his broad shoulders, intimidating frame, and long, wild hair. He liked it that way, pulled back and out of his eyes, even if it was out of style and almost barbaric. But the orderly and privileged did not approve of savage animals roaming their streets.

He lowered his eyes and walked faster. Right now, he didn’t want trouble with the Azorius. With those touchy quill-pushers, just looking like you might do something wrong was as good as evidence of wrongdoing itself.

While Mav didn’t come to Precinct One often, he knew the streets of Ravnica like an angel knew their feathers. He took an oft-deserted freight staircase to the top of Plaza West, navigating to Tin Street with ease, and continued his way down the long market lane. This high road wasn’t the fastest way home, but the sights and smells here always helped to clear his head.

Some stalls were closing down for the day, with one merchant loading their goods onto a giant’s back before rumbling away. Others still had long lines, especially the food vendors. Tin Street was the longest thoroughfare in the city, and while Plaza West may have the classiest restaurants in the city, any juggler worth their balls knew the heartiest, most authentic street food - outside of Precinct Six anyways - was found on Tin Street.

Trying to escape Melo’s words, Mav took a deep breath to clear his head and let the sensations of the city wash over him as he walked. The pungent spices wafting from a grill, the din of market chatter, a faint breeze on his face, and the temperature changes between light and shadow as he passed through the lengthening shadows. Then, a glimmering flash of light caught his eye. An illusion perhaps, probably one of those new holographic advertisements that were all the rage.

He squinted and saw a gold zino in the street, lit up by the setting sun about twenty paces away. Not too uncommon, Ravnicans tended to be careless with money on Tin Street, in more ways than one. He was about to step into the carriage lane to retrieve it when he noticed a harried young goblin already scurrying towards the coin. Mav nodded to himself, satisfied that the waif could get some decent food for a few days. A zino was a lot of money for a kid, as long as they spent it wisely. He kept walking, slowly growing aware of a roaring sound approaching behind him.

Turning around, he caught sight of an Al-set™, a prototype autopowered carriage named for its luminary Izzet designer. The League of Izzet were a bunch of unhinged maniacs too busy dreaming up new mizzium-fueled contraptions to consider the harm their inventions could cause. And they called that science?

Mav shook his head as he gauged the speed and velocity of the horseless carriage. It looked dangerous. It was certainly going faster than Tin Street’s strict market regulations should allow. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the young goblin just stooping to grab the coin.

The vehicle wasn’t slowing. The driver likely didn’t see the small figure bent down in the road. Mav broke into a sprint, hoping to pull the goblin out of the way in time.

As he ran, the Al-set™ gained, and he realized there wouldn’t be time to pull the kid out of the road. Gritting his teeth, he leapt into the road in front of the runaway carriage, pushing the goblin to the safety of the cobblestone walkway on the other side of the road. Oddly, he didn’t hear anything as pain exploded in his torso, but briefly felt himself flying before the ground rose up to meet him.

He lay still, gasping for several long moments before he regained his breath, his body processing the force of the blow. Slowly, he rolled over and took inventory of himself - nothing seemed broken, but his left pec burned in searing pain. With a grunt, he pushed himself to his feet, vaguely aware of bystanders gawking at the scene.

Huddled by the curb, the child stared at Mav and the vehicle in wide-eyed surprise. Somehow, the little goblin managed to hold onto the coin, green fingers curled around it, tight as a diva’s corset. Aside from a scraped knee, the boy appeared unharmed, though his face was pale. Mav waved him off with his uninjured arm, silently encouraging the kid to leave before the arresters showed up.

That done, Mav rolled his shoulders and neck, inhaling deeply and embracing his pain before turning his attention to the carriage. The driver had gotten out while Mav collected himself, and now stood beside him. The old vedalken’s ornate blue and white robes matched his turquoise skin, and distinguished him as a high-ranking member of the Azorius Senate.

Ignoring Mav, the bureaucrat bent over to inspect the vehicle for damage. Mav shook his head in disgust. Typical of the Azorius, to value property more than the welfare of others. He’d never had much respect for those quill-pushers - they maintained the law which kept Ravnican society peaceful and ordered, which at the end of the day always meant keeping up the status quo. The rich grew richer, while the guildless were left to fight over scraps. It was little wonder Gruul raids on the city were so common, Mav reflected as he watched the old man. Why be peaceful in a society where you are given no lawful choice but to obey?

Suspicions formed in his mind as he assessed the old vedalken and his lavish robes. Had he not seen the goblin, or simply not cared? That would be typical. Many in Ravnica didn’t even consider goblins an intelligent race, particularly guild members. A few years back he’d accompanied his adoptive uncle Brutus, a Boros Wojek, to a Legion Guildhall. The ‘jek had asserted not only that humans were better for the job than others, but also had the shortest lifespans of any intelligent species on Ravnica - in front of viashino and goblin colleagues. Thinking about that day and the looks on their faces still made Mav want to disappear. He crossed his arms and waited for the driver to notice he wasn’t lying dead in the street.

The official shook his head, sallow cheeks wobbling, at the man-sized dent in the hood of his vehicle. Mav held back his surprise when the old man suddenly shook his fist in the air and cursed Azor’s name. He turned, finally acknowledging Mav, cloudy yellow eyes narrowed into slits. He gesticulated wildly at the carriage.

“This Al-set™ is brand new! I just bought it a week ago! You’re going to pay for this damage, young man,” he said, jabbing a bony finger toward Mav’s face.

When Mav didn’t flinch, he raised his voice and addressed the growing crowd. “This young man here is responsible for damaging my vehicle. He had no business being in the carriage lane - you all saw it! I demand he pay for the damages as the law requires!”

From the corner of his eye, Mav watched onlookers multiplying and drawing closer. Everyone wanted to get a good look. Several people in the crowd nodded in agreement, no doubt motivated by the vedalken’s obvious station and wealth. Damn it, why couldn’t they attend their own affairs?

“You should’ve been traveling at a safe speed and controlling where that crazy contraption was headed,” Mav called, matching the old man’s volume with comfortable ease. Some of the original gawkers, close to the front, traded uncertain glances. Mav pressed on, reassured that the codger’s robes and flash hadn’t convinced all of the witnesses.

“Did you even see the boy in the road?” Mav demanded, watching the vedalken’s expression closely. Everyone said vedalken were emotionless, but Mav knew better. They were guided mostly by logic, sure, but they had emotions just like any other humanoid, they just suppressed them.

The edges of the old man’s lips and yellow eyes shifted a fraction; with his suspicion confirmed, Mav’s heart sank. This entitled prick saw the goblin all along and simply didn’t care. The Azorius were the guild of law and order in Ravnica, charged with equal enforcement of the Guildpact over all Ravnica’s people. But everyone knew those under the protection of the guilds never suffered any real consequences, unless they crossed the Syndicate. Mav knew corruption was real and prevalent, and he felt his anger rise as he stared it in the face.

“That boy shouldn’t have been in the carriage lane, everyone knows vehicles have the right of way there. Gob-walking is a crime for good reason, I’m not the one at fault here!” The old man blustered, gesticulating wildly towards the road again.

Mav gritted his teeth. “Being a prejudiced old man doesn’t give you the right to be judge, minister, and headsman. Is death the punishment for gob-walking now?” he growled fiercely. The old man threw back his head and laughed, obvious theatrics particularly for a vedalken. Did every Azorius windbag wake up early to practice this crap in a mirror, or just this guy?

“Don’t you know who I am, boy? I’m the Minister of Impediments,” he announced, pausing for effect and a gasp from the crowd. They did not disappoint. The edge of his lips curled into a smile, which soon faded.

He took a step closer to Mav, drawing himself up tall and fluffing his ornate attire in an effort to look imposing. Mav looked him over from the top of his bald blue head to the gilded tips of the pointed slippers poking out from under the robes. He arched an eyebrow and crossed his arms, not impressed.

“As I said before, you’re going to pay for the damages to my Al-set™, young man. I command it!” The vedalken shook his fist in Mav’s face as he wielded age and authority to batter his lesser into submission.

“No.”

“How dare you take that tone with the Minister of Impediments! I ought to arrest you myself!” The old man scowled and shoved Mav, jabbing a finger into his injured chest subtly so the crowd wouldn’t notice.

Unfortunately for the minister, Mav didn’t care about the crowd - or the consequences. He’d had enough. Someone needed to teach this arrogant old fart a lesson. Mav shoved back, losing his temper.

The old man cried out in surprise and fear, stumbling over his heels away from Mav. The crowd gasped in chorus, and he hit the nose of the Al-set™ with a metallic thud. Mav frowned as the senator fell to the ground, arms waving even more theatrically than before.

This act was getting tiresome. Clearly the vedalken fell harder than he’d been pushed. Already regretting his passion, Mav glanced around as the senator cried and shouted about assault.

The shocked faces of the citizens shouldn’t have surprised Mav, he’d just attacked one of the highest-ranking legislators in the city. Whether the old man deserved to be taken down a peg didn’t matter; to them Mav was just another low-class malcontent assaulting a public official.

From the back of the crowd, he heard a call for the arresters. He knew the legionnaires patrolling Precinct Six would at least give him a chance to explain his side of events. They might even care enough about the vedalken’s dangerous antics to slap him with a fine. But on Tin Street the Azorius arresters didn’t ask questions - as a policy they detained first and interrogated later. Especially with an Azorius minister involved; they would treat anything he’d say as Azor’s own word. Mav knew the arresters would take one look at him and reach for their lockrings.

Mav scanned the crowd, looking for a way out. They encircled the spectacle when the call for arresters went out, though no one stepped forward to stop him. Snarling like the rubblebelt beast they no doubt thought he was, he used his good arm to shoulder a path through the crowd.

Once he cleared the mob, Mav broke into a run, racing for a nearby labyrinth of service alleyways used by Tin Street’s infamous porters. The arresters wouldn’t be far behind. His shoulder throbbed with the impact of each footfall. Breathing hard, he pushed the pain aside and focused on his goal - freedom.

Mav ran a few more blocks, he and the porters dodging each other with professional instinct. Looking up between hanging laundry lines and over the tall walls of the alley, Mav could see Kamen Fortress. Almost to the edge of Precinct Six… He saw small figures circling the skies around the massive Legion armory, no doubt angels or skyknights on watch. Usually Mav faced his problems head-on, but right now nothing sounded better than growing wings and flying away.