One day of hunger, turned to two, turned to three. The only food they had was what they could scavenge, and what good souls would grant weary travelers. With each day and each week, they passed eastward around the mountains, towards the south. The days were blessed when they would be allowed to stay at a farmstead, and trade work for food. Never would they stay for long. Syndra knew not what plan her family had, nor did she care to ask.
With every village, and every merchant they begged for food, yet they were denied. Food was sparse for all and rarely could anything be spared. They resorted trading equipment for food. At first it seemed as a blessing to the child who hurt from the weight she carried. But with every amenity sold, the pain was felt later. Utensils were replaced with sticks, from a bowl each to a bowl between them. A single pot. Bedrolls, even their backpacks went, for they had nothing to carry. Of all the items they would sell, Syndra had managed to stow her comb. It reminded her of a time long lost.
They had lost most by the time they came upon a town by The Placidium River that flowed through the Navorri lands into the western seas. The orange leaves of autumn were upon them, warning of colder times to come. The ragged group appeared before the open wooden gates, trudging through the smell of late harvest wet woods were replaced with the smell of Spirit Blossom tea. The afternoon sun warmed Syndra’s face. They walked by the market of the river harbor. She glanced at the various stalls, spices mingling with fish. Powerful smells of people and animals assaulted her senses. This was the largest township she had ever visited. So big that it was split in two, the other half on the other side of the great river.
With no money to ford the river, they would continue their path until they reached a large, intricately carved building. The wood intricately braided unto itself giving a flowing quality to the wall, mimicking the river that sustained the people of the town.
She followed her parents, through the large opening, leading into the orange tinted interior. A smell of incense struck her, before her eyes had fully adjusted. The room was cavernous, it could easily hold twenty carts she estimated. Along the middle of the inside ran a pool of clear water, itself radiating a soft glow, with a brazier lit every few paces. On the other side of these holy waters were two seats. Raised upon a flight of steps, reaching half-way to the sealing, flanked by what at first glance seemed to be large horns, the symbol of balance in Ionia, a ceremonial backdrop. Atop the dual throne sat two elders. A man and a woman. The ones chosen by The Karma, the people, previous elders and the spirits themselves, to guide the city into the future.
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The troupe to stand behind a line of about 20 people. All seeking audience with the elders. Wanting them to pass judgement over misdeeds, provide guidance in life and trade, and impart wisdom to new mothers. Each question would use much deliberation, ensuring the sages knowledge was given, properly and impartially as was the tradition.
The family waited until the sun had shifted to the west. The light cast clear beams from the tall windows unto high walls, bathing the inside in a soft glow, overpowering the colors of the firelight inside. Their parents had placed Evard on the ground by one of the bowls. The warmth relief from the wind and weather. Syndra herself wandered sporadically between the brazier, and their spot in the line, to the narthex, admiring the intricate carvings of the gates. She traced the walls, as far in as was proper. Depictions of ancient legends, The Spirit, Asakana, The Karma. Humans, vastaya and the quinlons. A story of humans being allowed to erect the inhibiting stones, so they can exist in the magical woods of Ionia, and a careful balance being maintained between the two peoples. The incense had almost burnt to the stem when they were finally called forth.
Syndra’s father took a step onto a slightly raised podium, bathed in the light of the water’s dance. He stood for a moment, trying to gather his strength before pleading.
“My family and I have traveled long on empty stomachs and cold weather. We come seeking what shelter you bequeath unto us, come the colder months. We come seeking shelter in you town, if you will have us”
The two figures turned to one another. A hushed conversation whispered between them. Syndra’s father uncomfortably shifted his weight and had his eyes wander. A side rarely shown from the otherwise stoic man. After some minutes of deliberation, they both turned in perfect synchronicity, and spoke, alternating between sentences.
“We can give you shelter within Bahrun’s walls, safe from the starved predators that stalk the woods this time of year. You may stay until you have recuperated. We know of your burden, for the spirits have warned us of your arrival. You may not stay, The Spirit Blossom is upon us. We will provide you nothing but our security. There is a half-roof for lumber where you may stay. You must all remain together while you are within the city. As one you shall be, and with one departed, the rest will be banished.” The sages pause for a moment, looking upon one another. Letting the air sink deeply. Syndra’s stomach growled like a cornered animal.
“Your presence disturbs the balance of the community, but we are not blind to your struggle, nor strangers to migration. For the time being. The world outside is fraught with danger. When the autumn comes to close, and the spirits fall to rest, the creatures of the wild will seek those weak and weary.” Another pause, interrupted by the solemn man positioned on the podium.
“And food?”
“Food is for those who earned it. Through catch, barter, or contribution. We cannot afford to give alms, even during the festival. Balance must be maintained”
Their voice coalesced, speaking with one noise. The echo of their tone reverberated through the hall.
“Our terms are given. That will be all.”