The sun bore on Arisa, rays of warmth blanketing the peoples of the beautiful northern capital. The myriad of colours, of cloth, skin, and steel, shifted across the city, from the various kafabayts, to the riverbayts, to the beautiful stalls, those which cost between one and ten beht each month. Thousands of bodies flowed through the market, like the thousand streams within the city, a maelstrom forced the streams away.
The guards stood, each adorned with a steel turban atop their heads, a chain beard falling down to their chests and shoulders, their bright red cloaks billowing in the wind. A sandy scale cuirass oppressed any would be assassin, and should that not deter them, the cool steel at their side, curved like the hills of Arisa, would certainly savage.
However.
As the Mulazim's eyes fell from the two in heavy plates of black, to those whose foreheads were tattooed, rather than painted, she thought for a long mont.
"Gentlen, how is the day?"
"Bright and gentle, miss."
"Is it a good day to die?"
"No."
The Mulazim bowed her head, reaching up to her visor, saluting her fellow guards, for truly, today was not a good day to die.
'Akh, do you see what I'm seeing?'
'Akawat, do you see what I'm seeing?'
'Noorshukhur.'
'Noorshukhur.'
A finger upon a chin. A pair of curt brows, furrowed like a pair of blades. Eyes narrowed, as though poised to strike.
"What should I procure for my favourite ahm?" asked the little girl, who was barely able to peek over the small table, with a pair of eyes upon her, and another pair upon the giant figure behind her, of a figure adorned in Arisian shalwar, and though she only wielded a simple staff, the stallguard was fairly certain she would die before she could even touch the hilt of her shortblade.
A shalwar billowed beside her, the young Aswadian blinked. He did not wear any armour, for he was in Arisa, and the blade at his side was enough, and if it was not, the amulet which dangled over his chest was enough, for he was of that place.
"What should I procure for my favourite niece?"
The girl blinked. Her eyes slowly trailed upwards, to her ahm, who peeked down towards her. The pair held one another's gazes, and after the warm wind tickled their faces, the pair smirked.
"Ahm, do you think I am showing too much rcy?"
"My niece, do you think I am showing too much rcy?"
"You are so lucky you are so handso."
"You are so lucky you are so cute."
"My gosh, what can I do."
"Whatever you can do, please tell your father not to draw his axe," Korin joked, though only half so.
Jirot slowly turned to look at her father, who wanted to beat up Korin, but what could he do, for he was not given permission by this rciful, magnanimous, maelstrom of a girl. "Daddy! You must help kakas and papa to pick out a lovely gift!"
"I see…" Adam inhaled sharply, but he decided to show rcy, for wasn't he simple, spectacular, a storm of a father? However, the thought crossed his mind, in a mont of wisdom, he should teach his children sothing now that they were here, but since they were going to spoil their mother and family, just this once, he would allow them to spend mountains of silver, hills of gold, seas of blood.
"Daddy!" called a voice, and suddenly a shadow lood over the stall, a shadow which frightened the rchant and their guard, and for a mont they thought blood would be spilled, however... "Look!"
Adam was looking, but then he followed his eldest daughter's finger, towards an entire chess set, roughly hewn from a novice's hand, the kind to be sold for a silver or so at best.
'That wood is no good,' a particular papo thought.
"Oh my, oh my, what a wonderful pair of eyes my daughter has, though don't you already have so many chess sets, especially..." The half elf thought about how much gold he had spent the previous year, and though he was happy to spend it, for he was that kind of storm, an ache slipped through him at the thought she would not use the chess set, if not for the sake of his pouch, for the sake of his heart.
"I want to buy it for papo," Konarot said, her eyes shimring sanguine with the kind of sympathetic gaze a shadow would fall under.
"Ah," Adam replied.
'Ah,' Jurot thought. 'It is a beautiful chess set.'
Pam side eyed her husband, whose facial expression shifted almost imperceptibly, but his brows had twitched, and so had the corners of his lips, his face softening after a mont of thought.
Another pair of ruby eyes perused, her eyes admiring the outline of the small tokens, slabs engraved with pictures, others ford to the likes of elongated Aswadic words, flowers, and a few were carved from different woods snapped together, all which she wished to possess.
‘A devilkin child? She must be the daughter of a wealthy rchant, or perhaps she is the daughter of a Peysh?' There are many within her wares which were worth a copper, but there were also those she could sell for a silver, and, if she was able, those which were beht, though unlikely to be sold.
The girl raised her hand, and as her papo had done earlier in the day, she waved her hand over all the wooden trinkets before her. "All of them."
The rchant blinked.
"Kirot, you cannot buy them all, since other people will want to buy so too..." The half elf felt awkward, for though the rchant probably did wish to sell everything, wouldn't half be enough? Then she could sell more to those who would co later, and perhaps there was a noble who wished to buy sothing which caught their eye, and when they couldn't, they would slaughter the woman for the sake of their pride, or to feel better about themselves.
"Okay..." Kirot sighed, not quite understanding the depths of depravity of those who were called civilised.
"We can buy half another stall's items."
"Two halves make a whole," Kirot said, nodding her head, causing her father to smile, and just like the rest of his daughters, consider her to be a genius among geniuses, for of course, she was her mother's daughter, her sisters' sister.
Another pair of ruby eyes considered gravely the matter before him, the boy holding his chin, a finger upon his lip, his brows also forming a pair of blades, for he was his sister's brother. 'Mummy likes flowers. Mummy likes books. Mummy likes daddy.'
Eventually, the boy settled upon that.
Baztam blinked.
Karot stood tall, clutching the cup within his hand, a smile of satisfaction upon his face, for his mother also liked to drink tea, and just like a cup, she held flowers, books, and daddy within her hands. As he sauntered off, he paused. He returned back to the stall. "One thousand cups, please."
The middle aged man at the stall slowly looked towards the Iyrman.
Baztam blinked.
"..."
"..."
"My great grandnephew has asked for a thousand cups, so-," Baztam turned his head towards the figure who dared to step towards the boy, but he remained quiet.
"One thousand is a big number," Nobby said, having remained like a shadow, following Adam and Jurot, and when he was needed, he would step forward, taking the place of either, or, he would be the one to pick up a child and flee with them to safety. He was no Iyrman, but his connection to Jurot was not sothing even the Iyr could take lightly.
Karot thought. "One hundred?"
"Okay," Nobby said.
Baztam let out a soft sigh. He supposed a hundred was acceptable.
"A thousand daggers," the girl declared.
"If my granddaughter wishes to buy a thousa-," the Mad Dog began, only for his wife to jab the side of his neck.
"One hundred daggers is enough," Mulrot stated, as though that was any less ridiculous to the dagger rchant before her.
"Which daggers do you wish to buy?"
"Those which are well made, and..." Mulrot looked down to Lanarot, who pouted, side eyeing her grandmother, but she was too well behaved to voice her displeasure. "One of quicksilver."
"Shukhur," the rchant said, for such a hefty sum was more than enough, but for the older woman to double the amount of gold he would earn, he was truly blessed.
Praise be to the Iyrn!
Praise be to Lord Noor!
Praise be to buying his wife new attire, which he would peel off under the stars!
Yasha, anwhile, glanced between the children, who were spending so much silver, so much gold, one might have thought they were little Emirs and Amiras, or perhaps they were little Shens. The world of the wealthy is like so, she thought.
Another thought crossed her mind. She was about to ask, when she rembered she was ant to be beside...
Her eyes fell across Takvar and Saywir.
'Why am I here?' Yasha thought.
"Yasha," he called, as though she had read her mind. "If you could, please find so things for the business, and also make sure to ask for the receipts so we can keep track of everything. We'll reimburse half, like usual."
Praise be to the United Kindom!
anwhile, there was another child, whose amber eyes glistened curiously, eyes falling upon the wares, the trinkets, the bits and bobs. Then the boy reached over to an item, picking it up, and though the rchant was going to call out, upon seeing the grey skinned Iyrman, she decided against it.
The boy glared at the pen, the kind that was too big for his small hands, but it would be fine enough for his kakos because they were so pretty, and so big, and so strong, so they could use this pen, for they had all three requirents to wield such a fine instrunt.
Yes.
"Babo, I can buy this pen?"
"How much is it?"
The boy blinked. He looked to the rchant, and then shyly placed the pen down, but he felt a hand upon his back, one that was large, gentle and tender, a hand he was familiar with, for it was the hand of the gentle giant known as the Bearded Dragon, the kind of monster who could defeat the babo who he was nad after.
"How much," Rajin whispered, but loud enough for the rchant to hear.
"The simple pens are two copper, and that which... the boy holds, it is a silver."
"You can buy it if you like, my Jajin," Rajin assured, brushing the boy's hair affectionately, and he reached into his pocket, placing down several flowers ford of silver, a beht, each worth five silver, that which was most well known within the land of sun and gold.
"I can buy mummy a pen?"
"Yes."
"Daddy?"
"Yes?"
"Kaka?"
"Yes."
Jarot blinked, and continued to ask who he could buy pens for, and Rajin answered each without rushing the boy, though did bring the gourd up to the boy's lips so he could drink.
It was then the guard's entire body flashed, for she was an Expert, and could feel the presence of such intense killing intent, especially from the Iyrman who was within blade's reach.
Yet, the boy remained oblivious, and after he finished sipping his gourd, the air was the sa as always, at least to him.
PATREON LINK
I just realised Adam doesn't pay enough in taxes.
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