540. An Expected Interlude I

540. An Expected Interlude I

Omen: 2, 4

The group decided to take the day off to rest from the previous adventuring. It would allow them to leave during the last week of dawnval to adventure. Adam’s thoughts fell to the Iyr, which he missed dearly. The festival would begin during the last week, in which the Iyrmen would dress up in their festival attire.

‘Those damn cute brats! How dare they enjoy themselves without their daddy?’ Adam frowned.

“What are you thinking?” Vonda asked.

“Something stupid.”

Vonda slowly bowed her head. “The festival begins in the Iyr soon. Are you thinking of your children?”

“It’s kind of scary you know me that well, Sir Vonda,” Adam replied, his eyes daring to glance her way.

“Would you like to go to the market for some gifts to bring back to the Iyr?” Vonda offered.

“It’s kind of scary how you’re that smart, Sir Vonda,” Adam said, before smiling. “Let’s do it.”

The pair made their way out. Vonda wore a scarf around her face, covering her burn marks, but decided against wearing any armour due to the heat. She carried her shield against her back, marked with the symbol of her order, a white rose, and her mace hung at her side. Adam wore a scarf around his head, forgoing his armour that day, though he kept Wraith at his waist.

The city was bustling as it always was, with far more people moving through and around. There were easily a million people within the city, the noise and smells betraying the number. The pair ducked through side roads, under laundry lines, which were drying bright clothing.

“So this is your home?” Adam asked.

“Not quite,” Vonda admitted. “I was raised in the order, not within this city.”

“What about your family?” Adam asked.

“They live here,” she confirmed after a pause.

“It’s a beautiful place,” Adam said. “Very colourful.”

“Red Oak has wood, Gold Port has gold, but East Port has colour,” Vonda said. “The city of a thousand colours.”

“What’s your favourite colour?” Adam asked.

“White,” Vonda replied. “I like its simplicity.”

“I’m a fan of white, black too, and purple. I suppose I find blue comforting too.”

Vonda smiled from behind her scarf. “Your sister likes the colour too.”

“That she does, the little scamp,” Adam replied, chuckling. “I can’t blame her, I guess.”

They finally arrived at Market Road, which was nearly a mile long, with thousands of stalls. Adam could see how many people moved about on the road, each accompanied by child porters carrying their wares.Follow the latest novels at novelhall.com

“What’s with the children?”

“Little walkers,” Vonda said. “Street urchins, typically, who accept handfuls of copper to assist you carrying your wares.”

“Ah,” Adam said. “Cool.”

“What do you wish to buy?” Vonda asked, her eyes glancing around the area, spotting all manner of objects being sold, from arms to armour, to clothes and cloth, to inks and paints.

“I’m not sure...” Adam thought about the children, and the older Iyrmen too. “I suppose stuff like wooden carvings and such. Perhaps some jewellery made of shells and such, since we’re in a port city.”

They continued to pass by the stalls, before Adam spotted someone selling sea shells, each polished to look pristine. “How much for each shell?”

“What size?” the Devilkin man asked.

“For one,” Jaygak replied.

“Food and drink?”

“The special for the day,” Jaygak said, placing down a gold coin.

“The special is two gold.”

“My mistake,” Jaygak said, placing down another ten silver coins beside the gold coin, counting them out slowly.

A young worker took her to the side, but she was not taken to the room she expected, but rather, a room all the way to the end. She did not react, however, choosing to follow the young worker to the top floor, where the most prized room waited. Several Devilkin were enjoying themselves within the room, drinking and smoking, eating their meals in between conversations. One was an older Devilkin, who wore a yellow turban.

Jaygak had wondered who could dare to interfere in the process of the Iyrmen within the inn, but it made sense for it to be Yellow Turban.

“It is our friend, Jaygak, who has come.” Yellow Turban smiled, inviting the young Iyrman inside. “Come, sit.”

Jaygak sat down opposite the smiling Yellow Turban, who was flanked by his companions, each of whom were relaxing. She noted there was an Aldishman there too, one who wore fairly plain clothing, save for the red scarf around his neck, which covered a gruesome wound.

“It is always good to see Iyrmen,” Yellow Turban said, pouring Jaygak a drink, his face still a wide grin. “Many blessings to us all for the sight.”

Jaygak remained silent, and did not touch the drink, even as Yellow Turban waited patiently.

“The gates of the Iyr close,” he said. “I have not heard this in the tales passed through our tribe.”

Jaygak remained silent, waiting for Yellow Turban to get to his point.

“I have but one question, Iyrman,” Yellow Turban said, his lips still a smile, but as he switched to their tongue, the smile faded. “Have you come for Mother?”

Jaygak picked up the cup, and tasted the wine, which was fiery hot. She placed the cup down, acutely aware of the others around them. “No.”

Yellow Turban remained staring at Jaygak’s face for a long while, before the smile returned to his face. “Many blessings to you, Jaygak, daughter of Lavgak.”

“Many blessings to you, Wahib,” Jaygak replied.

Yellow Turban smiled at the audacity, and bowed his head. “It was our pleasure to drink with you.”

“The pleasure was mine.”

“Does the Iyr need the assistance of Yellow Turban?” the old Devilkin man asked.

“No.”

“The Iyr need only ask,” Yellow Turban said, before offering the Devilkin a bottle to take with her.

Once Jaygak was done with the meeting with Yellow Turban, she stashed the bottle away before going to speak with a member of the Iyr’s network. Once she had finished with her report, she turned to face the informant.

“There are rules to be followed,” Jaygak warned.

The informant bowed their head apologetically, but said nothing.

She eventually picked up the bottle from the front desk and made her way out. She wondered if Yellow Turban would have killed her if she had said anything else, but a hundred year ban would have been a great price to pay for them.

‘At least he isn’t cheap with the wine.’

What is this politicking? I want to see blood and death and more blood!