We approached the town thirty minutes later, atop one of the few hills on the plateau. The previous visible windows were now lost behind a wall of wood posts, each at least two meters wide. The top of the wall was a mountain range, with some posts reaching as high as a six story building. I couldn’t help but feel a compulsion to saw off the tops for symmetry - a very rational impulse. As for the entrance, there was no gate, just an uncompleted section of the wall where a stream of creatures and demons passed through. We made our way over and now stood behind a group of minotaurs that were bulky enough to block out our view ahead. We were trailing behind a wall of brown fur and grey flesh.
“Is it always this busy?” I asked Gloria, partially out of curiosity but primarily to stop myself from staring at the naked bulls’ asses in front of me.
“Yup! Its the only entrance to the academy for non-ghosts.”
The minotaurs in front of us passed the checkpoint, and turned out of sight revealing the town that had remained hidden behind them until now. Gloria had mentioned that the town was named Flags, which was an apt description based on what was now before me.
A sinkhole spanned a square mile; dwarfed only by thousands of massive sheets of fabric hanging on wires strung between the wooden walls. The beams different heights creating varying levels and layers of the city hanging above the chasm. No fabrics shared the same color or size. One shear fabric shifted, revealing suspended cocoons behind; the smallest the size of a family home, the largest disappearing into the depths of the hole. Other fabrics were significantly heavier and did not sway, acting as a foundation for hundreds of wooden platforms sewn on the surface. The platforms were adorned with caravans and canopied market stalls. Hell-habitants commuted between the suspended buildings and platforms in a basket and pulley system. It was a mosaic of color and chaos.
“First time to Flags, eh?” the gate guard asked, reviewing a token that Gloria handed him, “Each cloth represents a guild or family. The powers that be, so to speak. Each pattern painted on the top,” he gestured to motifs of demonic masks, dragons and other ghouls I had not originally noticed, “represent the families. Like a coat of arms… or like a flag.” He said the last part with a cheeky smile. “It's the town's namesake ya'know.” He passed the token back to Gloria, then waved us through with an “Enjoy your stay!”. It did not escape my notice that embroidered on the guard's tunic was a coat of arms matching the largest flags in the middle.
Gloria was already a few feet ahead and was turning left, the same direction as the minotaurs. “This way”, she beckoned, “I know this greeeaaat ramen joint.” Her cheer was infectious and my stomach felt a pang of hunger that only encouraged me to follow her with haste. She was gliding through the crowd along the wooden promenade which cantilevered ten meters over the edge of the hole.
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The wood was warped beneath the passage of time and heavy traffic. clinging to the interior edge of the walkway were food stalls and vendors hawking their wares. No stall provided seating, only large enough to accommodate the kitchen, although some ghosts and winged demons perched on the roofs while scarfing down food. It appeared Gloria intended to do the same, already several stalls down and claiming a roost atop a store.
I slowly made my way to join her, distracted by a chef grilling a fish with bat wings on charcoal, across from a woman selling bundles of hairy vegetables. Among the chatter, ogres hollered discounts and succubi tried to haggle down prices lower than their tunic’s neckline. It was bustling and vibrant and I felt an excitement building within me. Everything was so refreshing, I was at the forefront of a world new to me. So foreign I might as well have been Columbus on his maiden voyage.
I finally reached Gloria, who beckoned me up with a steaming bowl of ramen. The noodles were submerged in a purple soup with a thick oily sheen, and with chunks of mystery meat. It smelled divine. I took the chopsticks and shovelled a quarter of the contents down in one gulp. The flavour and the texture were rich and creamy with a pungent shrimp essence. However, instead of feeling it settle in my stomach I felt a fizzle and the sensation of the food evaporating through me. I giggled at the feeling and Gloria gave me a knowing wink. I finished the remaining noodles in a few seconds, ready for another.
As the second bowl was being prepared, I looked out at the city from my new angle. From a diagonal, I could see that the cords holding up the city were equally spaced in a grid - the sheets cordoned off sections of the town, with the central area encompassing ten blocks. It was also the busiest hub with a constant flow of visitors.
“What’s that?” I asked Gloria, pointing at the center.
“That’s the academy admin office, they oversee everything except the curriculum. A headache to deal with and ruthless in their political scheming. Always out to get the best donors. Court intrigue!” She whispered scandalously.
“We will have to get you registered before you can start classes. But I’ll let your chaperon take you.” She waved off the responsibility.
She then pointed to several other areas, “Thats the House of Grimoires, they are primarily necromancers, and the one with the shredded fabric, they are the House of TihDa Mohr. Nasty devils with a pension for mutilation.” The list continued, the fabrics crafted or altered to reflect the House’s inclinations.
We spent the better part of an hour chatting about Flags and enjoyed a third bowl of ramen sometime between talking about the justice system here and the social hierarchy of Hell. Belly filled, and with a better idea of what to expect, I felt a little less lost. Maybe this whole reincarnation issue wasn’t so bad afterall.
