The greatest of rivers is formed from the smallest of streams.
- A Quassian aphorism.
After washing off what felt like months of dirt and grime, I was finally able to enjoy simply soaking in the cool water of the bath. The water enveloped me, a balm for my weary soul, as I surrendered to the simple pleasure of idleness. It almost felt like I had achieved a zen-like state of emptiness.
But there was still light left in the day and time was, after all, money. The gold coin I had given Naira would only pay for less than a week. Perhaps I should have been less chivalrous?
Dragging myself out of the bath, I dried myself with a towel and made my way back to my room. God in heaven, it felt good to be clean again. The fairy tales never spoke of the hero’s fight to maintain a certain standard of basic hygiene.
I slipped into the loose, flowing garments favored by the locals in this sweltering climate and attached my sword to my waist. Yet, the sword felt awkward and unbalanced without my armor, leading me to opt for a more manageable knife instead. Now, fully prepared and significantly fresher than a few hours earlier, I set out to see what the rest of my entourage was up to.
“Elwin, Kidu, you alright in there?” I inquired, knocking twice on the heavy wooden door.
“Come in, Gil,” Elwin’s voice responded from within.
The pair had yet to change and bathe, and my nose was made immediately and painfully aware of it. I could not hold it against them, as I, no doubt, was in a similar condition only a while ago.
“You look better. It is good that we have reached our destination. But what is that we must do now?” rumbled Kidu, his giant frame making the small stool that he sat on look almost comedic. Not that anyone would dare laugh at him, of course.
The man had stolen what I was about to say right out of my mouth. “Indeed, we should try to get a lay of the land?” I suggested.
“Just what I was thinking, Gil, there mate,” added Elwin to the mix as he adjusted a buckle at his waist.
“Well, then, let us see what we can see.”
“Beg, your pardon, but the kind of scouting I was thinking of doing is the type that you ain’t best equipped to do. I best do this part by myself, if you don’t mind me saying. Maybe find some people who know some people who know some people. Also, been cooped up with you lunks for months, and a man needs some time for himself, if you be catching my meaning. Big guy, why don’t you go with Gil here, get a little taste of the city life?”
“Later. I must see to the little one,” he rumbled in his gravelly voice.
“Can’t we just take her with us?” I suggested.
“She has grown, how do you warm land people say it, become the slack? She is distracted… she needs focus. She must train. I will see to it,” he responded simply, rolling his shoulders.
“Well, there’s your answer then. Why don’t you ask the redhead?” the Rogue put forth with a wink.
“Yes, there is that. I suppose I will do just that,” I accepted, a little annoyed at being rebuffed.
I left the pair, taking Elwin's suggestion to heart. After all, there were arguably worse ways to spend a late afternoon than with a beautiful woman.
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Nearing her door, which was left slightly open due to the finicky latches typical of this place, I could hear the monotonous hum of prayers. Phrases imploring the Goddess for mercy and salvation were being repeated, first by Cordelia’s fervent voice and then echoed by Larynda’s reluctant tone. I wondered if the half-elven child, still so young, should be so exposed to religion. There was a part of me that felt a twinge of sympathy for her.
Deciding it best not to intrude, I left the women to their prayers. Having second thoughts about inviting Cordelia, as having a religious zealous goddess-botherer accompany me about the town might not be the wisest choice, I opted to leave well enough alone.
So, it seemed I was to be on my own for the afternoon.
Realizing I had forgotten my bag, I returned to my room to fetch it, taking care to include my Health and Mana potions. Anticipating frequent use of the spell Identify in this unfamiliar city, and possibly danger, I wanted to be thoroughly prepared.
This train of thought unexpectedly brought Zariyah to mind. Perhaps it was time for her to fulfill her role and show me around. Surely, she must have finished catching up with her mother by now? But then again, women did have a habit of going on when left to their own devices.
Making my way back to the ground floor, I noticed that Begonia’s Shade was gradually filling up. Observing the diverse attire of the patrons, I could discern that the clientele of the inn came from a wide range of professions and social standings. There were what looked like working-class field hands, likely wasting away their modest earnings, minor merchants draped in luxurious silks, and a group of stern-looking men in serious-looking arms and armor. The presence of these armed men made me feel particularly vulnerable without my harness. Naked almost.
I found myself at the bar and took a seat. I asked the bartender where the mother-daughter pair were.
"The mistress and Zari still be in the back room. They're likely to need more time together," he explained. "I've been instructed to offer you anything you'd like. So, what can I get for you, samasa?" he asked, leaning across the bar with his hands spread.
Up close, his distinct features and scars were even more apparent. The pronounced brow ridge gave him an almost ogre-like appearance, and his wide nose, evidently broken multiple times, contributed to his somewhat intimidating demeanor.
Driven by curiosity, I decided to cast an Identify spell on the man.
Laman Al-Qurashi - Soldier (Human lvl.11)
Health: 203/203
Stamina: 38/43
Mana: 7/7
Despite his formidable appearance, I was surprised to find that the bartender was of a relatively low level. He posed no real threat, and I felt almost foolish for my initial apprehension. In gaming terms, he would be the equivalent of a trash mob and easily handled even without my magic.
“I’ll have juice please, something sweet, or wine, twice watered, if you don’t have any juice.” I answered, feeling more confident.
“Sure you don’t want anything stronger? The mistress said to open up the good stuff if you…” he gave me a conspiratorial wink, “I mean the really good stuff. Better than even the stuff we give to some of the hoity-toity types we get every now and again. Got us some Aranthian spirits. If there has ever been a time to open it, can’t think of a better time than now,” he explained with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Laman Al-Qurashi, right?” I replied, enjoying the puzzled look that crossed the battle map of scars that served as his face. “It is still a bit early in the day for me to drink, but please pour yourself something nice,” I offered diplomatically. “You have a look about you, a military man I take it?”
His face broke into a wide smile as he guffawed, "Well, I don't mind if I do." He turned and reached for a dark bottle on a shelf behind him. "It's almost a sin to just leave this beauty sitting up there," he commented. Then, as he poured the drink, he began to share his story. "And yes, I've served before. Got drafted into the levies, and ended up staying longer than I'd planned. Eventually, I realized that risking my life for the glory of the Empire wasn't for me. So, I joined the Mercenary’s Guild, rose to the rank of Claw Leader. The stories I could tell you! Some of my old mates drop by every now and then, and we exchange stories from the old days…"