Omen: 2, 4

The group decided to take the day off to rest from the previous adventuring. It would allow them to leave during the last week of dawnval to adventure. Adam’s thoughts fell to the Iyr, which he missed dearly. The festival would begin during the last week, in which the Iyrmen would dress up in their festival attire.

‘Those damn cute brats! How dare they enjoy themselves without their daddy?’ Adam frowned.

“What are you thinking?” Vonda asked.

“Something stupid.”

Vonda slowly bowed her head. “The festival begins in the Iyr soon. Are you thinking of your children?”

“It’s kind of scary you know me that well, Sir Vonda,” Adam replied, his eyes daring to glance her way.

“Would you like to go to the market for some gifts to bring back to the Iyr?” Vonda offered.

“It’s kind of scary how you’re that smart, Sir Vonda,” Adam said, before smiling. “Let’s do it.”

The pair made their way out. Vonda wore a scarf around her face, covering her burn marks, but decided against wearing any armour due to the heat. She carried her shield against her back, marked with the symbol of her order, a white rose, and her mace hung at her side. Adam wore a scarf around his head, forgoing his armour that day, though he kept Wraith at his waist.

The city was bustling as it always was, with far more people moving through and around. There were easily a million people within the city, the noise and smells betraying the number. The pair ducked through side roads, under laundry lines, which were drying bright clothing.

“So this is your home?” Adam asked.

“Not quite,” Vonda admitted. “I was raised in the order, not within this city.”

“What about your family?” Adam asked.

“They live here,” she confirmed after a pause.

“It’s a beautiful place,” Adam said. “Very colourful.”

“Red Oak has wood, Gold Port has gold, but East Port has colour,” Vonda said. “The city of a thousand colours.”

“What’s your favourite colour?” Adam asked.

“White,” Vonda replied. “I like its simplicity.”

“I’m a fan of white, black too, and purple. I suppose I find blue comforting too.”

Vonda smiled from behind her scarf. “Your sister likes the colour too.”

“That she does, the little scamp,” Adam replied, chuckling. “I can’t blame her, I guess.”

They finally arrived at Market Road, which was nearly a mile long, with thousands of stalls. Adam could see how many people moved about on the road, each accompanied by child porters carrying their wares.

“What’s with the children?”

“Little walkers,” Vonda said. “Street urchins, typically, who accept handfuls of copper to assist you carrying your wares.”

“Ah,” Adam said. “Cool.”

“What do you wish to buy?” Vonda asked, her eyes glancing around the area, spotting all manner of objects being sold, from arms to armour, to clothes and cloth, to inks and paints.

“I’m not sure…” Adam thought about the children, and the older Iyrmen too. “I suppose stuff like wooden carvings and such. Perhaps some jewellery made of shells and such, since we’re in a port city.”

They continued to pass by the stalls, before Adam spotted someone selling sea shells, each polished to look pristine. “How much for each shell?”

A young Devilkin woman smiled at Adam and Vonda. “These shells are expertly cleaned by the greatest of cleaners, and polished like a mirror. Three small shells for one silver coin, or one silver coin for the larger shells.” The small shells were about the size of a pinky nail, and the larger shells were the size of a coin.

“What about the big ones?” Adam asked, noting the larger shells. Each were about about the size of Adam’s thumb.

“One gold.”

Adam slowly nodded. "I’ll take thirty small shells, and ten of the middle shells, and a big shell.” Adam placed down three gold coins, before accepting the shells, which were folded inside a scrap of cloth. He handed one of the medium sized shells to Vonda.

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Vonda smiled, accepting the small white shell, placing it into a pocket. “Thank you, Adam.”

“Let’s go buy more gifts!” Adam said, far too excitedly. “I’m sure this place has way more goodies for the kids.”

Vonda sighed, but smiled, walking around with Adam as they trekked along the road. There were side roads too, allowing more space for various stalls. Adam noted a stall selling all manner of weapons, each of a different design. He thought about buying some weapons, but decided against it.

Vonda paused at a stall, eyeing up the paints and inks, wondering if she should buy any. Adam waited for her, eyeing up the stall himself, wondering if he should buy some for the children, so they could paint him things. ‘No, they’re a little too young, and the paint might be poisonous for them…’

“Son of cat! Where are you walking, huh?” came a familiar voice.

Adam turned to see Kalid, the young Devilkin boy, currently in the middle of cursing out a pair of adventurers. Beside him was a bundle of yellow cloth, which had dropped and unfurled. The pair were pale skinned, with blue eyes, and blonde hair. Each were tall, and heavily tattooed, wearing thick furs, with axes at their side.

“Noskan,” Vonda said, before she stepped towards Kalid.

The Noskan stared down towards Kalid, exchanging glances between one another, grunting in their language. They reached down to grab their axe. “Careful, Redhorn.”

Kalid fixed his yellow turban, his eyes full of a glare. “You think you can walk where you please? This is not your home, yes? This is East Port.”

The Noskan glanced between one another, before shifting again, their eyes glued to the boy. “Careful, we do not accept disrespect.”

“Son of cat, you think I do not know who you is?” Kalid asked. “You think I cannot see your tattoos, huh? This was Aswadasad, I would teach you lesson. You are lucky it is East Port.”

“Kalid,” Adam called, “how are you?”

Kalid looked up at Adam, confused as to who he was, before noting his size, and his company. “This Kalid cannot complain, always good, always blessed.”

“Right, right,” Adam said, eyeing up the Noskan. “What happened?”

“We are given eyes by the Gods, but we still cannot see,” the boy said, shaking his head disapprovingly. “What can I do? This Kalid only tries to work.”

Adam reached down to pick up the cloth, before chanting to clean it. “Well, why don’t we walk with you to deliver the cloth?”

The Noskan eyed up the Half Elf and the Priest, simply bowing their head to Vonda, who bowed her head in return. The pair of pale skinned warriors stepped away. Kalid shook his head, motioning after them as he looked up at Adam, before shrugging his shoulders.

“I know,” Adam said, before offering the cloth bundle back to Kalid.

“Do you see, Sir Vonda, this Kalid always right. Most handsome man I have ever seen.” Kalid tilted his head, waiting expectantly with an open hand. Adam placed down a silver coin, which the boy slipped into his robes.

“I’m sure,” Vonda said.

A guard stepped onto the scene quickly, hand on the hilt of his sword. “Clear the way!” he demanded, before his eyes snapped across the scene. ‘Of course it’s him.’ “Where are they?”

“The Noskans have already left,” Vonda said.

“Kalid, what happened?” the guard asked.

Kalid inhaled deeply, to tell the tale of the injustice he had faced, by the Noskans walking around from a road, bumping into the bundle of cloth, which caused it to slip out of his hands, though Kalid did not dare to admit it had slipped, but rather it had been torn away.

It was not just eventful for the likes of Adam and Vonda, for in such a large city, many found themselves in similar situations, getting accosted by all manner of people.

Jaygak entered the tall inn, which was full of smoke. She waved her hand as she passed through, heading towards the front desk, manned by an older Devilkin man. He was perhaps in his fifties or so, and judging by the silver rings on his fingers, was a member of an organisation.

“What size?” the Devilkin man asked.

“For one,” Jaygak replied.

“Food and drink?”

“The special for the day,” Jaygak said, placing down a gold coin.

“The special is two gold.”

“My mistake,” Jaygak said, placing down another ten silver coins beside the gold coin, counting them out slowly.

A young worker took her to the side, but she was not taken to the room she expected, but rather, a room all the way to the end. She did not react, however, choosing to follow the young worker to the top floor, where the most prized room waited. Several Devilkin were enjoying themselves within the room, drinking and smoking, eating their meals in between conversations. One was an older Devilkin, who wore a yellow turban.

Jaygak had wondered who could dare to interfere in the process of the Iyrmen within the inn, but it made sense for it to be Yellow Turban.

“It is our friend, Jaygak, who has come.” Yellow Turban smiled, inviting the young Iyrman inside. “Come, sit.”

Jaygak sat down opposite the smiling Yellow Turban, who was flanked by his companions, each of whom were relaxing. She noted there was an Aldishman there too, one who wore fairly plain clothing, save for the red scarf around his neck, which covered a gruesome wound.

“It is always good to see Iyrmen,” Yellow Turban said, pouring Jaygak a drink, his face still a wide grin. “Many blessings to us all for the sight.”

Jaygak remained silent, and did not touch the drink, even as Yellow Turban waited patiently.

“The gates of the Iyr close,” he said. “I have not heard this in the tales passed through our tribe.”

Jaygak remained silent, waiting for Yellow Turban to get to his point.

“I have but one question, Iyrman,” Yellow Turban said, his lips still a smile, but as he switched to their tongue, the smile faded. “Have you come for Mother?”

Jaygak picked up the cup, and tasted the wine, which was fiery hot. She placed the cup down, acutely aware of the others around them. “No.”

Yellow Turban remained staring at Jaygak’s face for a long while, before the smile returned to his face. “Many blessings to you, Jaygak, daughter of Lavgak.”

“Many blessings to you, Wahib,” Jaygak replied.

Yellow Turban smiled at the audacity, and bowed his head. “It was our pleasure to drink with you.”

“The pleasure was mine.”

“Does the Iyr need the assistance of Yellow Turban?” the old Devilkin man asked.

“No.”

“The Iyr need only ask,” Yellow Turban said, before offering the Devilkin a bottle to take with her.

Once Jaygak was done with the meeting with Yellow Turban, she stashed the bottle away before going to speak with a member of the Iyr’s network. Once she had finished with her report, she turned to face the informant.

“There are rules to be followed,” Jaygak warned.

The informant bowed their head apologetically, but said nothing.

She eventually picked up the bottle from the front desk and made her way out. She wondered if Yellow Turban would have killed her if she had said anything else, but a hundred year ban would have been a great price to pay for them.

‘At least he isn’t cheap with the wine.’