A Record of Ash & Ruin: The Grieving Lands

Book 3: Chapter 31: Scripted Events

The flowers of war are at their most beautiful when they blossom in spectacular disarray.

- Unknown.

I stood tall, drawing myself up to my full height, straightening my shoulders. As I did so, I couldn't help but to remember, ‘He who shouts first, shouts loudest’. It was an old adage, half-remembered and probably incorrect, from a different time and a different place. With a deep breath, I mustered as much confidence as I could, "Please, allow me to explain…"

The City Guard officer narrowed his eyes and stepped closer towards me. With a mere flick of his hand, he set his men into motion. On his silent command, he had ten guards encircle the Beastkin who held Zariyah hostage, their polearms poised to strike. Meanwhile, a crowd had gathered, obstructing the flow of traffic.

"Move along! Move along," the officer commanded sharply, a hand on the jeweled sword at his hip, his order cutting through the buzz of the crowd. His men started to shepherd the city's busy inhabitants around the scene, gently but firmly pushing away the onlookers.

With thinly veiled annoyance he shouted, “You there, Beastkin! Stinking savages, the lot of you!” He almost spat, his face twisting in disgust. “Go on, I dare you. Kill her, see if I care. It’s what your kind love doing. But the moment you finish having your little bit of fun, I’ll have you all strung up from the gates,” he warned, with all the authority of his office.

The wolf Beastkin looked around him and, seeing no new avenue of escape, released Zariyah with a defeated look. Some of the City Guards stepped aside to allow her through but kept the points of their weapons at Beastkin’s neck. The girl hurriedly pushed the guards to stand by my side.

With the immediate situation more or less diffused, he turned his attention back to me. The officer's expression was one of sharp inquiry. "What is going on here? And who might you be?" he demanded sharply of Zariyah, prodding at her chest in a manner that was both rude and dismissive.

Her reply was, of course, nothing but a prolonged silence, her expression set in defiance. Frustrated by her apparent reluctance to speak, he lifted his armored hand in a threatening gesture. A sneer crossed his face when he noticed her flinch.

“Thank the Goddess you are here! These horrid beasts attacked us!” I blurted out to divert his attention. “I am just a simple adventurer, still new to this great city. I was drawn here by the promise of wealth and renown. I was making my way to the Grand Bazaar with my companion…” I paused, nodding to Zariyah who had her eyes closed, expecting the worst.

“When suddenly these animals…” I started, only to be silenced by the officer.

“Attacked you, you say? But even Beastkin would not be so stupid as to start violence within the walls without provocation…” the officer stated, removing his white-plumed helm.

“The man-thing threw scorn at us! You all here saw! Yes!? Yes!?” explained a half-recovered Hashmal, spluttering. A murmur ran through the members of the building crowd.

“That would indeed be a provocation for your kind. Still…” drawled the officer, as if he was enjoying the proceedings. Enjoying the petty power he held over us.

“I saw that savage animal start it, I did! Swiped at the man with those long sharp claws of his for no reason, he did. ‘Haps they got the crazy disease, their brains go to jelly before they go even more beast-like…” came an oddly familiar voice from the crowd. It was a voice that I could not quite place.

Hashmal gave out another roar but was silenced by one of the City Guards, who whacked him across the face with a heavy truncheon, smashing out a long white canine.

“I will have to add disturbing the peace to your crimes, animal,” the officer commented, nodding to the subordinate who had disciplined the lion Beastkin. One of his men who had been shepherding the crowd approached and saluted him. After a brief glance around, he leaned in to whisper something into the officer's ear.

Damnation, the last thing I needed was to be in trouble with the law. I had best play things safe. Even without using an Identify spell, I could tell that these men were a cut above the usual rabble.

“As I said before, I was just walking down to the Bazaar when these animals accosted me. They threatened us. You know how violent these things can get. Animals, aren’t they?,” I offered in explanation.

“There is more, no?” the officer added lazily.

“Yes,” I stated with a nod. I needed to lay this on thick. Silently I thanked the voice in the crowd who had spoken out in my defense, before continuing, “We were just on our way when these things threatened and accosted us for no good reason. They grabbed my companion and I defended myself to the best of my ability, but there were four of them… and then you blessedly arrived before they could continue…”

He looked at me thoughtfully as he sifted through my words, searching for lies, but found none. As always the truth was on my side.

“I think I’ve seen and heard enough. The simplest of explanations are almost always correct. The Beastkin wanted a little fun with your lady friend, and of course, being the chivalrous

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and generous gentlemen you are, you stepped in and defended her honor,” the officer declared, causing the wolf Beastkin to give out another whine in protest. “But what I can’t understand is how you pummelled three of them, by the looks of things at least, all by yourself?”

I looked him evenly in the eye, “I had a just cause on my side.”

“How I see it, using nothing more than your fists, at that. Perhaps the next Festival will be interesting. That nothing more than a decoration?” he observed, noticing the dagger at my side.

I looked at him quizzically for a moment.

He mused aloud as if to no one in particular, “Still, both parties have disrupted the city's peace... I wonder what the penalty for that would be?”

“Perhaps, I can make some amends for taking up the precious time of the City Guard on such a trivial matter,” I suggested in a soft voice without batting an eyelid.

I smirked inside. He had barely given the Beastkin a chance to defend themselves and had all but given me a shakedown. The upholders of law and order were as corrupt in this world as they were in mine. It was best that I stay on the right side of those who held some power over you.

“Yes, perhaps you can,” the officer replied with a superior smirk.

Slowly, I drew a single silver coin from my purse which only caused the man to raise an eyebrow. With a small sigh, I produced another coin.

“Most generous. Most generous, indeed. You truly must be new to Al-Lazar to donate such an amount in hard coin,” he guffawed, causing his men to chuckle with him nervously. “The name is Ahmed Rafiq… would you give me your name? For the record, of course.”

Had I misjudged him? Had the raised eyebrow been nothing more than signaling his surprise at being paid in real solid silver? Either way, it was too late now.

I drew a breath to calm myself. “Gilgamesh of Uruk,” I responded flatly, but politely. Even as I gave my name, I gathered the threads of Mana within and sent them questing to gauge the man before me and confirm the truth of his words. Identify was working hard, this day.

Ahmed Alim - Council Guard (Human lvl.17)

Health: 195/195

Stamina: 27/33

Mana: 9/9

"An unfamiliar name, but one I shall endeavor to remember. Making a friend of the City Guard is a wise move indeed. Should you find yourself in any trouble in Al-Lazar, I might be inclined to assist, provided your generosity continues," he said, his eyes gleaming with avarice.

With a sharp barked-out command, Ahmed directed his men, "You lot, round up these creatures and lock them in the cages where they belong!" The guards saluted briskly before descending on the Beastkin. They subdued any remaining resistance in them with the truncheons and clubs at their hips, secured them in irons, and then frog-marched them away, parting the crowd as they went.

Ahmed, following his men briefly, stopped a moment later to offer me parting words. "Adventurer Gilgamesh of Uruk, savoring a job well done is a rare pleasure indeed. I wish you and your companion a good day." He then added, with a cautionary tone but a sly smile, "A word to the wise, fraternizing with a crimson whore invites trouble. Not that I can blame you," he said, his smile turning rakish.

I turned over his words and unfamiliar nomenclature, thinking that he had insulted me in some way. Understanding came a few heartbeats later when I realized that I was not out on my own.

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“Indeed, Ahmed Alim,” I blurted, my words coming out faster than I intended. “I have heard such advice before in regards to your sister, but that has not stopped the long line of men who vie for her attentions. You would also do your best to mind your manners around my friends. Especially those of the fairer sex,” I said in my most friendly and false voice. It was a poor rejoinder, but it was the best I could do at the time in a language that was not my mother tongue.

He paused for a moment, giving me an odd look and I smirked in response. Ahmed looked as if he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. Simply turning around, he gave a dismissive yet casual wave and rejoined his men. Soon he was lost in the crowd. The tall polearms of the City Guard, bobbing above the heads of the general public, gradually disappeared from view.

You have gained 1 Charisma

As I read the notification, I could not help the thin smile that crept its way across my face. I would consider two silver coins a good bargain for a permanent increase to one of my attributes. That and a sprinkling of experience points from throwing down hands with the Beastkin.

My fists were clenched tightly at my sides, and I noticed I was shaking. Was I shaking because of frustration, fear, or anger? Perhaps relief, a quieter voice inside of me suggested. Maybe it was a blend of all four.

Taking a deep breath, I stilled myself to take stock of the situation, now that the danger had passed. Part of me wanted to scream out in protest at the waste of money. A different, darker part of me felt frustration that I had not slaughtered the lot of them, consequences be damned.

Still, they had certainly got what they deserved. The irons suited them.

Could have done with a few more points of experience though.

Zariyah and I drifted off to the side of the street to let the growing traffic pass.

“Are you alright,” I asked softly.

She simply nodded, looking spooked. We were both likely still processing the whirlwind of events that had just unfolded. In my life, excitement had a peculiar way of arriving. All at once, overwhelming and without warning.

“Do you want to go back?”

To this, she surprisingly responded by shaking her head weakly. She gave me a weak smile.

This is life in the city of Dust. I did not expect you to be the center of so much trouble on your first day here. Your friends were right to say that you attract trouble as honey does flies.

But, you possess a rare strength, I think. I can see how the others are drawn to you. You treat those of the Silver like they were children and the savage Beastkin as if they were unruly pets. You choose violence when silence would serve you better.

And when you laugh, I hear the echo of the Winds’ madness in your voice. You are troubling.

This was her reply, her finger’s movements straight, crisp, and sure.

I crossed my arms and replied archly, “Should I be taking this as a compliment or a complaint against my character?”

Take it however you wish, her hands messaged, as her usual thorny mask reasserted itself.

With a small huff, she started off back down the road, giving me no choice but to follow her. Women, as always, were as inscrutable as the faraway stars.

Unlike women in general, and Zariyah in particular, the ‘game system’, or whatever it was I had been given, was more comprehensible. My condition, broken down into numbers, could be understood at a glance and I saw that, already, my Health was steadily ticking back up, due to my Minor Regeneration. Iasis’ blessing was most useful indeed, but what would be the price of it? That aside, it would do nothing for my clothing, torn now in places, but that was a minor annoyance at worst.

Moving together with the flow of the city, we arrived at the Grand Bazaar, a spectacle of raw capitalism at play. The air was filled with the cacophony of merchants, their voices slicing through the noise, boasting of their goods as though narrating epic tales. Amidst this, men and women engaged in spirited haggling over exotic goods, their exchanges resembling a playful pantomime. Money changed hands, sealing deals where the line between victor and vanquished was blurred. The Bazaar also unleashed a barrage of scents upon me; the heady mix of incense, spices, and the unmistakable presence of animals and humans. A potent blend that threatened to overwhelm my senses.

Immediately I was mobbed by a gaggle of children, pulling at my sleeves. They entreated me to visit this stall or that, promising, of course, the best of prices. I shooed them all off like the annoying tenacious gnats they were.

Please, for the love of the heavens, try not to cause any trouble here. And be careful of your purse, there are pickpockets and thieves here on occasion. An obvious foreigner like you would make for an easy mark, Zariyah advised, turning to me and displaying a hint of a grin.

“Quite,” was my simple sardonic response.

Escaping the mob of children, we ventured forth into the Bazaar proper. The people were garbed in all manner of clothes. Vivid hues jostled with somber blacks and resplendent whites in a tapestry of visual discord. There was no organization to the Grand Bazaar, no rhyme or reason. Beside a stall brimming with exotic fruit and vegetables, a jeweler displayed his wares. A gemstone, set in a filigree of silver chained to the stall, shone like a captive star. A few paces further in, a book stall sat next to a display of weapons of various quality. Each merchant, a lord of their small domain, competed for our gaze and coin with cries and enticements.

I had no need of more weapons to cut, bludgeon, and maim with. Instead, it was the collections of paper, papyrus, vellums, and parchments for sale that drew me.

I gazed over the display of books and scrolls, ignoring the merchant until my eyes alighted on a leather-bound tome. The old book was worn with age and the stain of time, but the title could still be clearly read, ‘The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney’. Beron, I had seen or heard that name before…

The book caught my interest, and I was in dire need of new reading material. I gestured for the bookseller to come over, and tapped the book.

“I see you have an excellent eye and impeccable taste. That fine volume is a rare treasure, indeed. One and a half shekels, silver, for you samasa,” the book merchant proposed in a reedy voice.

He was an old man, his beard mostly gray going white. His face was pitted and lined, and he looked to be of the same age as some of the ancient books that he sold. Long, lank hair fell from the edges of a small bright red hat, similar to a Moroccan Fez. As he took off his spectacles, I saw that his eyes were rheumy and unfocused. More to the point, I was happy that he made no comment about my somewhat shambolic appearance.

“I saw another copy at another stall for half the price,” I countered smoothly.

“Bah, then you would have been better off throwing your money into the sea. This is a genuine, printed from the presses of Quas. Look, see here,” boasted the old man, tapping at a small mark on the spine.

“But at half the price, surely the contents would be the same?” I ventured.

“Those copies be made by hand, and prone to error more than not. A misspelled word here, a different turn of phrase there, and a new part added to satisfy a calligrapher’s vanity. You would be better with a genuine article. Still, they might make for a prettier piece, but a book made by the presses is a more perfect copy of Laney’s original words. One and a half shekels is more than a fair price for his wisdom,” insisted the old man.

I looked at him bemused, for it was odd that a mass-printed book was worth more than a hand-copied one. What sort of logic did this world operate on?

In accordance with local custom, I handed over a promissory note worth ten silver coins. I was almost surprised when he handed back to me the correct amount of change. It was a first for me, and I did my best to hide my surprise as we completed the transaction.

We parted ways with a small formal bow to each other, Zariyah mirroring me soon after, and walked further in.

A seller who traded in all manner of animals bade us look at his stock. All of them were colorful creatures of paradise, of feather and scale. Birds with long plumed feathers, and frilled and maned lizards whose scales shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow. It would have been a wondrous sight, but I saw the frustration and melancholy in their eyes. Trapped in cages and robbed of their freedom, their futures were bleak, at best, and this turn of thought robbed the experience of its wonder.

Pressing on a little past, we saw that there was a section exclusively devoted to the sale of beasts. A strong animal scent filled the air, and the cries of a variety of animals both familiar and unknown could be heard. The whinny of horses, the barks of dogs, and the rumble and hiss of lizards all mixed into a chaotic cacophony.

All manner of beasts can be found in the Grand Bazaar of Al-Lazar, Zariyah shared with me. The smell in this section is most pungent, I hope you are not planning to take a closer look, she inquired, curling her nose in distaste.

In response, I raised my hand, just scanning the area for beasts I had yet to encounter before. I smiled when I saw a creature reminiscent of the Ceratopsians of Earth’s past. However, this specimen boasted six legs and was sheathed in a far more formidable armor. Thick, bony knobs and plates adorned its back and flanks forming an almost solid shell. It dragged behind it a tail that ended in a fearsome array of solid bone spikes. Upon closer inspection, it bore a striking resemblance to a gigantic tortoise, though it possessed a bony frill and a single horn jutted proudly from its snout. A bony ridge, or cervical, extended just behind its thick frill, where a boy with a serious demeanor rode atop the creature. Burly men, bare-chested, gently prodded the creature's flank with long poles, guiding it toward the gate of its pen. With a bit more urging, the beast moved forward, issuing a low, mournful bellow that seemed to resonate with a sense of resigned acceptance.

“What manner of creature is that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even. It had been an awesome sight. Brave, indeed, must have been the first men to tame such a beast.

You have never seen Lumashitu before?

“No, but we have creatures somewhat vaguely similar to it, though nothing close its size. A rhino, or perhaps a small elephant, would be the closest modern analog. Though there are precious few of them now. An ignorant people believe that their horns hold medicinal properties so they have been hunted to near extinction. There is about as much magic and medicine in their horns as there are in my fingernails,” I commented, a bit of bitterness edging into my tone.

I see, of course, you haven’t. Well, these creatures come from the jungles north of here. Remarkably resilient creatures, they are as comfortable working the farm fields as they are charging across the battlefields. They command a hefty price, yet despite this, the Council of Al-Lazar boasts a unit of Lumashitu cavalry. Their charge is legendary, said to be unstoppable, came her explanation, a small bit of pride coloring her manner.

That one, by its size, is a female, she finished, pointing at the docile Lumashitu. Her nose wrinkled as if she had found something distasteful.

Offering her a wry grin, I was unable to resist a playful tease, "Is that so? No wonder it was so stubborn about doing what it was told."

Yes, yes, but please can we go now? she beseeched, almost pouting in resignation.

“Yes, as the lady commands,” I stated, giving her an exaggerated bow.

Surprisingly, instead of rolling her eyes as I expected, she gave me a formal curtsy in response. More importantly, she smiled at me, and I felt my heart beat just a little faster.