Residue of Sorrow

Quote from FairIthilien >>

In the privacy of their room, with no one else around to overhear, he asks, out of curiosity, "Is this your first time in Pohja as well? Did you go straight from Levicka to Katto?"

 

Bryn passed through Pohja very swiftly when sent from Levicka to Katto. He'd have seen what happened to be on the way, but that is very little beyond roads and inns. 

If she's asked to join, Clara requests a moment to prepare, and soon after, appears with only her leather satchel. The same one she carried with her while still on duty. It occurs to both Arren and Bryn that if it were the military's equipment, she wouldn't have been allowed to take it with her. "Ready," she says, "but I'll let you take the lead."

The three walk the city's streets for a while. They'd have to ask for directions in a place this large to have hope of finding their destination, but whether they ask the attendant at the Sleeping Lion or some passerby on the way, it seems there's a place that deals with the transportation of travellers that may or may not have what they need. This uncertainty comes from the uncertainty of the price, as well as how the question is phrased.

The path mostly goes through the market area, which Bryn and Arren find to be especially large. Stand after stand of fish, fruit, spices, fresh meat, dried meat, jewels, clothes, cloths, weapons of varying qualities, sweets, bread, wheat, odd trinkets which either seem like complete garbage or strange objects that are most likely fakes, tools for religious customs... it goes on and on, some repeating frequently while others seem unique.

But as one gets away from the pier and the keep's walls, the quality of the goods around them deteriorates; beggars, sick homeless people, as well as vermin running between alleys, can be seen far more often. Soon, even the stones beneath them disappear, leaving only muddy ground and a vast mixture of all kinds of trash. It is hard not to question what kind of place one is headed to, passing through this section of the market.

Eventually, however, the three turn away from the 'market' and into a region where they were told they would mostly find workshops. There are still plenty of beggars around, but the ground is once again paved, there is very little trash scattered about and vermin, although heard from time to time, aren't as common. It may not be a rich neighbourhood, but it is at least modestly respectable. The sounds and the scents, if not the sights, confirm that this is the right place. Hammers striking hot iron, saws cutting wood, smoke from the furnace or the oven, as well as plenty of unfinished projects or small works of art, or a simple sign, that hint at the profession of each workshop.

By large stables housing many horses stands a stone building with a large wooden wheel - the type that would normally be used for carriages - hung from the very top of the roof. It is tall enough to have two stories, you assume, which is about standard for most of these workshops around. There is no sign other than that, but the wheel seems rather convincing that this is not the baker's place. 

((I'll give you a chance to interact with anything on the way, if you want, before describing the workshop that I'll assume you plan on visiting. Meanwhile, please either list what remained on your person and what was left in the Sleeping Lion, or verify that your sheet is updated accordingly.))

When 'Miss Clara' steps out of her room carrying the same satchel she had even while on duty, Arren assumes it contains whatever personal belongings she considers worth keeping close at hand. Things she would rather not leave behind in an inn in a city famous for pickpockets and thieves. The thought briefly makes him consider the backpack he left behind in his and Bryn's room, but he quickly shrugs it off. He doubts anyone will go through the trouble of stealing a crowbar, some rope, a tinderbox, and similar odds and ends. And if they do, well ... he hopes they put the seasonings to good use.

It is difficult to keep an eye on their surroundings while also taking in the enormous market they pass through, but Arren does his best to do both. While most of the stalls earn little more than a passing glance, there are two kinds that catch his attention.

The first are those selling goods from Etana. Pohja is the trading hub of Dite and shares a longer border with Etana than Katto does, so he suspects such goods are more common here than in Pyorre. If there are Etanan spices, fabrics, ornaments, or other familiar goods anywhere in the city, they are likely to be found here. Should he spot something that reminds him of the homeland he barely remembers, he asks Master Otis and Miss Clara to wait a moment while he takes a closer look. 

The second are the stalls selling religious items.

This might seem somewhat unusual to his companions, since Arren has never been particularly religious, other than using the gods' names in common expressions, as most people do. Even so, he pauses to examine the wares closely. He studies any depictions of the deities on display, paying particular attention to those related to Aleshi and Gaitha, though he takes an interest in the others as well.

As they move farther from the market district, Arren cannot help but notice the gradual decline in the city's condition. The beggars. The sickness. The vermin. Things rarely seen in Pyorre. The sight does not truly surprise him, he's not so naïve to think every city enjoys the same circumstances as his own. Still, hearing about such conditions and witnessing them firsthand are very different experiences. Things in Katto under Meyen rule are far from perfect. Yet it cannot be denied that, in this particular regard, they have achieved genuine improvements.

Once they reach the workshop that quite clearly deals in carriages and similar means of transport, Arren lets Otis take the lead. Before entering, however, he leans in slightly and lowers his voice.

"Are we going straight for the carriage plan? We can always ask about the river route as well, then decide."

The Etannan border, unlike most in Dite, is not really a defined line, but rather an area. That is, since Etannans as a collective larger than a village can only be found far east of the desert, and since neither the Pohjans nor the Kattons were ever interested in claiming the desert to themselves, there's a wide area where no official forces of either of the three nations go. Most of its residents - small nomad communities, mostly - define themselves as Etannans, and so most maps are drawn such that the majority of this land is joined with the rest of Etanna.

Nevertheless, it's true that this "border" shares more length with Pohja than with Katto, and that the Pohjans won't decline a trade if they believe there's profit to be made. Arren will spot a number of stalls that look more Etannan in nature. Mostly it is only the goods, but he'll spot, at the western side of the market and not long after leaving the inn, a small stand selling silk fabrics, with a halfling man standing at the front, explaining at the time about the quality of these fabrics to a tall Human woman who only makes the small man look even shorter. The rest of her clothes suggest she has the means to afford such luxurious fabrics.

"If none of these quite match your taste, I have a smaller, more... refined collection, for those whose belief in the dieties is not merely for show." The pale High Elf woman who stands at this stall, selling religious items, has black, straight hair that reaches just above her shoulders. She's not exactly old... but she isn't young either. Somewhere in her second century, surely. "Are you interested in something specific?"

Her wares, however, those on display at least, seem in line with the other stalls Arren passed by before. Depictions of the deities themselves as a person are rare, but items that symbolise them are not. For Gaitha, that would be a bracelet from gold that's made to look like woven stalks of wheat, or a bag of seeds of some flowers with an embroidery of flowers or fields or mountains on one side, and some prayer on the other side; for Tyr, it'll be a pair of scales with their stand fashioned like a hammer or a sword, or maybe an oranamental blade that Arren would deem too thin and fine for any practical combat uses. Rep-Un isn't found a lot, but there is some art on various ceramics and pottery, on which are depicted fish, the sea, rivers, or rain. Aleshi isn't really commonly worshipped in the same sense as the other gods. People treat her with respect out of fear of the misfortune she might bring upon them. One does not usually keep many items that directly relate to her, but it is rather common to light incense during certain times of the year (equinoxes and solstices mostly, but some also light incense every birth of a new moon or even every full moon in addition). Arren has seen a few items he would probably correlate to the Goddess, though, with similar intentions.

But other than that, there are also items relating to other gods. The four above are the most commonly believed deities, but they are not the only ones. Some, like Oruthia, the goddess of the sun, light and warmth, appear in every stall. Arren has heard her name before plenty of times, and her status is the closest to that of the four 'known' deities. She has been considered above Rep-Un by most until not too long ago. Others aren't well known or seem like modified versions of the deities he knows. Some would only be found in one stall, but others can be found in several. One whom Arren was not previously acquainted with is a goddess of Fate and Fortune, whom Arren finds on almost every stall here. Related items range from purses or pig-shaped vases for storing coins, to decks of cards, dice and coins depicting a woman laughing on one side and the same woman crying on the other.

"Yes, of course," Clara whispers back, but Arren notices it takes her a few moments to answer. It seems she was distracted, watching the horses in the stables nearby. "We can consider other options before making our final decision. We still have time before nightfall."

"Not my first time, no, but it may as well have been. All roads and roadside inns, with the emphasis on speed and no time for sightseeing. I certainly didn't get to experience the culture here at all," Bryn replies to Arren, accepting the four silver pieces with a slight, practiced smile. He chooses to leave only the items that can be easily replaced in the unlocked chest—his spare clothes and a lamp with some oil.

When they head out, he carries a lighter backpack but remains fully armed. He wears his cargo trousers coloured grey and leather armour, concealed beneath his reversible coat—currently turned to the inconspicuous grey side.

The walk through the massive market provides a starker education in Pohjan culture than his previous transit. While Arren’s eyes are drawn to the vibrant Etannan silks and the array of religious items, his focus remains split between watching for pickpockets and identifying the local scam artists and con men—his own people, in another life.

As the paved stones gave way to the mud and squalor of the lower market, his instincts sharpen. He keeps his coat closed tight, ensuring his daggers, shortsword, and the wrapped frame of Emil’s bow remain completely hidden. He keeps one hand casually near the straps of his scroll case and backpack,  and his other thumb tucked into his belt, hovering near his coin pouch.

Standing before the stone workshop with the massive wooden wheel hanging from its roof, he listens to the whispered exchange between Arren and Clara.

"I have no preference, but it seems speed is once again the primary concern. Beyond that, cost. Let's see what both methods offer," he replies in a low, measured voice intended only for his companions. He then motions for Arren to take the lead in entering the workshop.

Arren approaches the silk stall, listening to—but not interrupting—the exchange between the Halfling man and the Human woman while he examines the fabrics on display.

He is somewhat surprised by their quality. For some reason, he had expected something much less refined. Perhaps because of the journey they must make to reach this place.

Once the Halfling has finished speaking, Arren gestures toward one of the silks. "May I?" If permitted, he lightly runs his fingers over the fabric, curious to feel its texture for himself.

"These come from Etanna?" he asks, then adds, "Such harsh journey for such fine silk."

In the next stall, Arren raises his eyes toward the woman who has addressed him. A High Elf, he notes—just like Bryn. In the back of his mind, he imagines Bryn might feel  a bit more comfortable here, seeing there are more considerably more High Elves here than in Katto. In any case, he answers, "Not exactly. I was mostly curious."

He pauses. "I have to say there is a deity here I am not familiar with," he gestures toward the section with purses, pig-shaped vases, dice, cards and coins. "It seems rather widespread around here, though. Who is she?"

Outside the workshop, Arren notices Clara's attention on the horses and wonders what they will ultimately decide. He has a feeling the river route will be more expensive, but perhaps it will be the better choice if the overland route proves too slow. They will see.

He nods to both Otis and Clara, then steps into the workshop, taking in the people inside first, before scanning the rest of the space.

Although not flashy, the criminals of Iriyam make almost no effort to stay hidden. Conning a person in a city like this would require careful planning and subtlety, so most turn to the more direct methods of snatching a person's wealth when they're distracted. Cutpurses or pickpockets, or people who use both methods, are most common. And while their targets may be focused on some other matter, they make almost no effort to remain hidden from the rest. One, a young Human stealing from an Elven man, notices Bryn looking in his direction, grins mischievously, and dashes away, a few coins in his hands. It takes only a moment for the Elven man to notice, but unfortunately, the thief is already one with the crowd. Surely, Bryn was not the only one to notice, but it doesn't seem like anyone cares. If you see someone else getting robbed, one less thief is trying to rob you at that moment.

At least once, Bryn will see someone chasing a thief through the crowded market, but everybody seems to ignore the man's cries for someone to stop the thief.

It seems the woman and the Halfling are bartering about the price of a specific piece of clothing. "... all the way from Etanna, my lady. It is a long and difficult journey, but as you can see, the quality is superb. If I sold them for that much, my whole family would starve to death!" He gestures as if his head were cut off.

"Then, maybe I'll buy somewhere else..." The woman suggests, though it is quite clear she doesn't quite mean that.

"Okay then, I think I could make an exception for a fine lady like yourself. I'll sell this one for twenty."

"Make it eight."

The two start exchanging haggling, each raises or lowers their called price as they approach a middle ground, on which they finally agree. In the end, the woman pays thirteen gold coins for a beautiful teal-coloured dress. Neither of you is sure who made the most profit from this deal, but both parties seem satisfied, as if each believes they paid or were paid more than they usually do.

"Ah! Come, friend!" The Halfling gestures to Arren once he notices the Half-Elf's interest in his wares. His accent is notable but not too strong. "You look like you have Etannan roots yourself, am I right? Then surely you recognise the quality of these fabrics before you. Oh? Please, go ahead. I'm sure you'd find they're as fine as back home!"

"Indeed, a long journey, but where there are customers, Tac Erif and his Etannan wares will go." The stall, like many others around, is actually just a cart, although a somewhat fancy one in this case. "At your service."

"Not from around here, I see," if the woman is disappointed that Arren shows less interest than she hoped, she hides it well. "Mazal, the Lady of Fate and Fortune. Here in Iriyam, she is a particular favourite of the populace. Wouldn't you like to believe that with a single toss of the dice, your life could turn around and you'll find yourself in those high towers up there?" She gestures towards the city's keep. "She may not be as popular as Gaitha or Tyr, but she favours the bold and rewards those who devote themselves to her truly. If not for fate, why would one person be lying in the mud here, while they sleep on pillows made of soft feathers?"

She pauses for a moment, allowing Arren to examine things more closely, perhaps. "If you're not convinced, I could show you." She picks a deck of cards and shuffles it in a rather showy manner that displays a good sleight of hand. "Would you like me to read into your fate?"

The workshop is manned by one Dwarf at the moment. A short and stout man whose face would seem in his forties if he were Human, working on sanding a large wooden beam. Many tools lie around, partially organised on various workbenches. It seems too large to be manned by just one person, and it appears the entire first floor is one large workshop with a few wooden beams that support the upper floors, but no walls or doors that divide the space. The ceiling of this floor, or the floor of the one above, is made of wood and is somewhat low, although not low enough to justify bending one's neck. It appears that the only way to climb up is by one wooden ladder at the back of the workshop.

"So, where are you going?" The Dwarf barely even raised his eyes for a moment. "Irihar? Irimahaze? If you plan to go out of Pohja, forget it. I don't ask my coachmen to go that far." He examines a spot closely before resuming the sanding. The sound isn't too loud to bother a conversation, and the Dwarf doesn't look like he plans on stopping. "Payment is up front, and the coach turns back to arrive precisely on time. You don't have to stay on it, but there won't be any unexpected extensions. Ten silver coins per day. That includes the journey back, even if you don't plan to come back."

The city to which Miyako hopes to reach in about six days of riding is Irimahaze.

Arren nods when Tac Erif mentions his Etannan roots, offering only a polite smile at the comment about the fabrics, without correcting the Halfling's assumption about a place he only vaguely recalls. He shifts the conversation instead, curious where the Halfling gets his goods from. From the eastern reaches of Pohja, meeting nomad traders there? Or does he venture deeper into within Etannan territory?

Arren does not linger long after this, thanking Tac for the exchange before moving on.

(ooc: I'm not sure whether to accept the reading or not. So you know, what? Even, he doesn't accept the reading. Odd, he does. 13)

"Mazal," Arren repeats. "I had definitely not heard that name before, but I can see why she would have so many followers around here."

Even:

Odd:

On the workshop, Arren listens to the Dwarf present the options so clearly that it leaves little room for doubt. His only concern is whether the coach will be fast enough to reach Irimahaze in six days, as Miyako expects.

"How long does it usually take your coachmen to reach Irimahaze?" he asks. "We need to be there on a specific date and can't afford delays."

He adds, "Would the coach be for ourselves alone, or should we expect company?"

He glances at his companions, checking if either of them has anything to add. If not, he is ready to review the remaining options before they make a decision.

When the young thief grins and vanishes into the press of the crowd with the elf's coins, Bryn doesn't shout or raise an alarm. Instead, he catches the boy's eye for a fleeting second, offering a dry, two-fingered salute from his temple before returning his gaze to the rest of the crowded street.

He remains on high alert as they navigate the stalls. When Arren pauses at the fortune-telling display and glances back at him for a silent consensus, Bryn merely shrugs. If Arren wants to spend a few copper pieces watching an elf show off her sleight of hand with a deck of cards, that is his business, so long as Arren keeps a hand on his own coin pouch while he's distracted.

Inside the stone workshop, Bryn lets Arren open the conversation before stepping forward to lean slightly against a vacant workbench. Adopting the cold, meticulous tone of Master Otis, he fixes his eyes on the sanding dwarf and lays out a few sharp, clarifying questions of his own.

"To clarify, that is a flat ten silver pieces per day total for the three of us, correct?" he asks, his voice cutting through the steady rasp of the sandpaper. "And how many coachmen does that rate provide? Do they handle security on the road, or are we paying strictly for a driver?"

He pauses, letting the weight of the dwarf's previous words hang in the air. "You mentioned the coach turns back to arrive precisely on time. To be precise, do you mean arriving back here at your stables? If the elements or the road throw up unexpected delays on the trek to Irimahaze, does your driver turn the carriage around before we even reach our destination, or are transit delays a risk your workshop assumes under the upfront payment?"

"Of course! My wife will kill me if I don't return every once in a while. In fact, I imagine I'll be heading back east again soon." Perhaps recognising that Arren isn't here to buy anything, the Halfling doesn't push it and takes on a slightly more informal tone. "The road is long and sometimes harsh, yes, but it gets more food on my children's table than most I could do over there. Besides, when I only come home once in a while, everyone's always excited to see me. It is a rather pleasant sight every time."

The woman starts shuffling the cards, occasionally splitting the deck into uneven parts, placing the smaller part aside and resuming with the rest. "Oh, goddess of fate and fortune, Mazal, guide my hands in revealing this young man's fate."

Proceeding to chant something in a language Arren does not recognise, the woman throws her head up dramatically. It would seem like a somewhat eccentric play if it weren't for three blue flames, no larger than the size of an olive, that suddenly appeared, hovering slightly above three of the split piles of cards. The woman looks down at the table again and picks one of the piles, spreading the cards apart, their faces turned down. "Please, pick one." If Arren does as asked, she'll place the remaining cards aside, then repeat the process with the other two piles. By now, a few bystanders have taken interest in this spectacle, standing not far behind Arren, watching along with Otis and Clara to see what will happen next.

Arren, please roll 1d100 three times, rerolling a result if it has been rolled before.

"Now," the Elf says once Arren picked all three of the cards, "before I tell you what fate awaits you, pay one silver coin for each of the cards."

"Irimahaze? Seven days. You might make it in six if the road stays dry, but it's unlikely this time of the year," the Dwarf answers, resuming sanding all the same. "The price is for the coach and the driver, for up to four of your passengers. More than that, and you'll need a larger, more expensive vehicle. The driver can defend themselves and the coach, but they're under no obligation to protect you if it risks their own life. They're men of honour, however, and we don't get mugged often."

Pausing briefly, the Dwarf raises his eyes for a moment to look at Otis. "No, you're right. I was unclear. The driver drives the coach on the main road and directly to the agreed destination, and upon arrival, returns. If you want them to wait for you and then ride back again, that must be decided when paying, ten silver coins per day as normal, while the driver waits. You may decide to dismiss the driver early, but there won't be any refunds. As for unexpected elements, the driver will deliver you to your desired destination. If it takes fewer days than we expected, then you will arrive faster. If it arrives later, you won't be asked to pay extra.

"There are inns along the road where you can sleep, but you'll provide payment for lodging or food for yourselves. The coachman will take care of himself." The Dwarf once again resumes sanding the wood. "And we'll need to prepare the coach and the horses before the journey. It doesn't take long, but don't expect immediate departure without notice."