Lord of the Rings Fanatics Plaza

(private with @Isolde Alarion )
The tour continued before Trev had quite figured out what to think. Was this all to show him what he was about to endure, himself? He felt his stomach churning in anxiety, still hearing the crack of the whip as he was all-but dragged along, with Dev's grip on his arm ensuring that he did not lag behind. More than ever, he wished he had never left home. Or that he had never seen his father that day almost a year ago.

The 'tour' continued to get worse. As if the 'stage' wasn't bad enough, the thought of being stripped and inspected by potential buyers.. like that girl he had seen.. he didn't want to imagine how that would be. Trev absently pressed a hand against his side, where his flute was tucked away out of sight. Just feeling it there brought him a tiny sliver of comfort, but at the moment he was more concerned with the possibility of someone taking it from him. He couldn't bear the thought of that.

And then, it turned out, there was more to come in this dreadful tour! With a frown, he glanced at the woman, Relic, as she spoke of him rethinking things, and inspiring him. He did not want any whatever inspiration she had in mind. As she took off to lead the way toward this 'arena', he cast a longing glance toward the exit, instead. He could see the gate they had come in by, from here. But, again... there was all of Umbar to get through, even if he somehow made it past those guards.

Seeing that he had delayed from following, Dev turned back toward him, then caught a grip on his shirt and jerked him forward, forcing Trev to come along. Still, Trev refused to appear defeated, and folded his arms defiantly as he sulkily walked along. This was not real, right? He wasn't really being sold... he glanced sidelong at his father, trying to get something from his expression. Any sort of hint. But Dev was maintaining a cold, hardened expression that Trev could not read. Still.. she wouldn't have said that about 'rethinking' his position, if there was no hope. Right?

Relic was clearly proud of her arena, Trev couldn't help but note. He felt a sense of dread settling over him as they were instructed to sit. He did not want to sit. He stared down at the empty arena pit, wondering if he dared to wonder what sort of "entertainment" went on here. As Dev pushed down on his shoulders, Trev scowled and resisted for a moment before he felt a kick to the back of his knee, and fell into the seat. Dev settled into the other, but not before casting a warning glance at Trev.

The whole place made him very uneasy. Determined to give some defiance still, Trev sunk down a little in his seat, arms folded, with a sulky scowl lingering on his face. Yet.. when Relic informed him that he was about to see what happened to slaves with 'no value', he felt his stomach twist up again. Swallowing as he tried to brace himself for something awful, Trev felt more dread weighing down on him at the comment about 'lazy, disobedient pups such as yourself'. Lazy! He might have protested that if not for.. well, there were plenty of reasons he didn't speak up. The woman was terrifying, for one.

Dev merely offered a little smirk when Relic glanced toward him. He was keeping an eye on his son, observing how all of this was affecting him. The boy was maintaining his defiant look, but Dev was sure that he was wavering. Soon, he'd be begging Dev to keep him on the ship, and not sell him. He'd be grateful for Dev's protection, after this.

The clapping was almost startling, but Trev managed not to jump. He glanced over at her, then found his gaze drawn to the arena. The man.. that same one who had been whipped for no apparent reason.. Trev caught his breath. What was going to happen to him? And why was he not considered of value? He halfway recalled her mentioning that the man had tried to think on his own.. that he had not followed her orders. The dread of what was going to happen increased as the beasts emerged into the arena below. No.. no, not this. Trev's face paled a little at the realization of what was going to happen to the man below. He flinched as the horrible creatures attacked, and tore his gaze away from the horrific scene.

Trev literally felt sick. As much as he'd wanted to get away from here before, he wanted that twice as much, now. While Dev casually accepted some of the offered snacks, Trev couldn't even acknowledge the offer with a glance. His arms, folded over his chest, tightened against him, one hand gripping the upper arm of the other. The other hand gripped the shape of his flute, pressed to his side. Thoughts of home flitted to mind, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he tried his hardest to block out the awful sounds of.. of the poor man being slaughtered. The demented woman cheering the wargs on, and talking about her betting on this nightmarish scene.

The tale of the horrors his friend had once endured in this same city, flashed through his mind. If Trev had known that his friend was in any sort of danger, he would have done anything in his power to save him from it. Or he wanted to believe that of himself, at least.. sometimes he questioned his own courage. Like now, he could not bring himself to even look up or open his eyes for a good long while. He wanted to believe that Nal would do the same, if he had any idea that Trev was enduring any misery as well... but would he? The memory returned to his mind. Dev telling him he had seen Nal in Harlond. That he'd suggested he should go over and speak to Trev, to cheer him up.. and Nal's reply.

While Trev was still struggling with a sickened feeling, Relic turned to Dev and asked him to show the rest of what he had brought. Dev grinned. "Of course, I would be delighted. My men should have them in the courtyard by now." He rose, then looked down at the boy. He looked thoroughly shaken by what he had seen. Or rather, refused to see. He had heard it though, so that was good enough. "Come, Trev." He ordered. The other creatures he had brought were not exactly 'inside pets', and so it was necessary to go outside again, especially for one of the two.

(Private, solo flashback thing)

The sun beat down with scorching heat in the market square, summoning forth a light sheen of sweat onto the faces of those who had no reprieve from its relentless glare. Ava hardly glanced at any others as she moved leisurely along the various merchant stalls and shops. The pale green garment of silk was cool and smooth like water flowing over her skin, while panels of intricately embroidered cloth of gold created decorative contrasting parts to the gown. The matching pale green veil of sheer fabric draped over the back of her head, held in place by a jewel-encrusted diadem. It was decorative while serving to keep the sun off her neck.

She had felt like getting out and seeing what the market had to offer today, simply out of boredom. A flock of well-dressed servants trailed along with her, partially behind her, and partially around her. Most were carrying packages and parcels; the things she had already purchased during this outing. Pausing to take a look at a display of shiny jewelry glinting in the hot sun, Ava soon turned up her nose and went on her way. Though still in her early twenties, the young woman had already developed an acute eye for telling when jewelry bore false jewels, or if the metal itself were fake. These were good fakes, but fakes they were, nonetheless. Yet, she made a mental note to speak with the merchant later, in private. Perhaps, she could commission a few custom items to be made for an idea that occurred to her. A little smile played about the corners of her mouth as she considered the idea of filling her treasure vault with fakes, while the real items were hidden away somewhere safer where no thief would consider looking.

Aside from that thought, Ava was growing bored of the market. There was little here of interest to her, now. The obnoxious voice of the auctioneer droned on and on in the background, advertising the latest slaves brought in from this or that region, and who would give this much or that much. She grew weary of the sound of his voice, and she was considering whether it was not time to return home. But then, something the man said caught her attention.


“Just give it a few months, and this gorgeous pelt will be large enough for harvesting. Imagine the rug it would make, ladies and gentlemen! All you need is a sturdy cage, toss in a side of meat now and then, and just a few short months, your floor can be adorned by the most luxurious fur rug in the city!” Along with many other words to build up this unique sale. Words like ‘pelt’ and ‘fur’ were often repeated, which seemed.. odd to her. That was no human slave they were selling, then.

With her interest piqued, Ava ventured closer to try and get a glimpse of what they were selling. An animal, surely. But what sort of animal? As she approached the market, two of her menservants flanked her. As if she needed bodyguards. It was more for show, really. But soon, the way was cleared for the young lady to get a look at what was being auctioned off. Her lips parted in shock as she stared at the fuzzy, newborn feline, her breath catching in her throat. It squeaked and cried as it squirmed in the man’s grasp, while he held it out for all to take a look at this tiny fur pelt he claimed would be full-grown in but a few months. The poor little thing looked so tiny, helpless, and pathetic.

Moved by the sight of this tiny creature, held both literally and figuratively between safety and danger, Ava took a slow glance around at the various men and women who were gathered around, eagerly awaiting the sales pitch to end and the bidding to open. Her eyes narrowed a fraction, gazing at the greedy, eager faces of her fellow citizens. She heard a few men talking in less quiet tones about how much sport they could make out of feeding time.. tossing in a slave now and then, or perhaps use it to instill more fear into them, make them work harder, and so forth. Another pair were discussing the exciting hunt that it could provide, once it was full grown. Ava’s own dark eyes hardened as she raised her chin, determined that she would not allow this poor creature to become another victim of this cruel society.

“Alright, can we start with...” The moment the auctioneer opened the bidding, several people’s hands shot up around her. The price was raised, bit by bit. Ava looked around her, waiting. Biding her time for the right moment. Paying attention to which ones were still bidding, and which ones had given up already. Soon, the competition began to thin, as the total climbed higher and higher, ascending to more than many were willing to pay. There were some stubborn men still in the running, however. A fellow nobleman was clearly bidding so that he could have a rug made of the creature’s fur, so that his home would have something no other had. Another couple of men were those who had wanted to make a sport of the animal, hunting it in a fenced-in space once it had reached a suitable age. Another man who was still bidding commented to someone next to him that he’d always wanted to add one like this to his collection of taxidermy trophies, and how thrilling it would be to hunt it after it was grown. Ava kept her lips pressed together in a thin line as she continued watching the bidding. The cost did not matter. She had plenty of money, and what she didn’t have, she could take from some of the folks around her. That would be poetic justice, wouldn’t it? The thought amused her. In fact, she began planning which one to rob, and decided that whoever the highest bidder ended up being would be getting a nighttime visit from her, soon. The rest would be added to the to-do list.

At last, the bidding had increased so high that no one offered a counter bid after the nobleman’s last one. The auctioneer paused, waiting. “Any other bids?” He asked, preparing to wrap up the auction. And finally, sensing that her moment had come and that there were no more bids about to come in, Ava spoke out loud as she raised her hand. “I’ll double it.” The nobleman and auctioneer stared at her in shock. Ava kept her gaze steady. She turned to the nobleman. “Well, do you match my offer?” She asked with an edge of ice in her tone.

“I.. d-double? No.” The man answered, still a little stunned.

With a hint of smugness in her smile, Ava turned to the auctioneer. “I am sincere.” She assured him.

The man barely suppressed his smug smile, since he got a cut from all of the profits. “Going once? Twice? SOLD! To the lovely little lady in green.” He declared happily.

Breathing out a little sigh of relief, Ava dipped her head in acknowledgement, and motioned to her servants to come along as she made her way through the crowd, toward the man who had put the animal up for auction.

“Well, congratulations, my lady!” He celebrated her win, mainly because of the fact that his fortune had suddenly increased. “You must have wanted this little critter very badly.” The man seemed amazed.

“I did indeed.” She agreed, holding out her hands to receive her prize. The soft, furry newborn was placed in her hands, squirming. Ava smiled and cuddled the small baby cat as he crawled onto her shoulder, trying to hide in her hair. All this noise around, and being held up in front of everyone must have frightened the poor little thing. “Tell me about his history.” She requested/demanded of the man selling the tiny feline. “Where is the mother? How long ago was he born, and where?” She frowned, curious.

The man scoffed as if in annoyance. “Well, I bought its mother from one of the ship captains. *Matsu Halsad, he procures a lot of our more exotic showpieces. He captured her and brought her back from one of the jungles down south. She was a great attraction down in the pits, you should’ve seen her! Fought with such ferocity! The crowds loved watching her rip and shred.” He grinned, then the grin faded. “But then a week ago exactly, she wouldn’t come out of her cage to fight, no matter what we tried. It wasn’t ‘til then that we realized she’d given birth to a litter.” He shrugged. “Two were born dead, another was as good as dead, having taken some battering from some of the previous fights the mother had been in. But this little one seemed mostly unharmed.. yet, we have little use for him.” He explained. “So, we took the kit away... which wasn’t easy. She sure fought then!” He said, clearly pleased with himself about that.

Ava did not look amused, listening to all of this with growing distaste toward the man before her. “Why can the kit not stay with his mother?” She asked. “Is she for sale?”

“Ah.. alas, my lady. Yesterday, she was killed by a fierce white bear that another captain brought from the northern regions, and we did not know what to do with the kit. I haven’t got the time or resources to nursemaid the little thing, but I figured maybe someone could find a use for it, if they can keep it alive long enough.” He looked at Ava as she cuddled the baby cat, gently rubbing between his ears. “You realize he’s going to need milk.. and a good, strong cage. You got a plan for that, my lady?”

Ava had to draw in a slow, steady breath to refrain from unleashing her anger at this man. Struggling to maintain a facade of calm, she let it out again, slowly. “I am sure I will manage however I must.” She answered coolly. “As for payment, I do not have the necessary amount with me, for it is a large sum, and I have only brought enough for a bit of casual shopping. Shall I write a promissory note, or must I return to my estate and retrieve the necessary amount?” She inquired, all business now. “My estate is a few miles outside the city.” She warned, letting him know it would take a little while if she had to go back.

The man hesitated. “If I may ask, to whom am I speaking? I can see that you are a lady of great wealth, but.. I’m afraid I am at a loss for who you might be...”

“I am Lady Avalêazar, granddaughter of the late Lord Zagarôth Hazadazra.” Ava replied in the same businesslike tone. “I can assure you that a promissory note from me is as good as gold in hand.” She answered, trying not to sound as curt toward him as she wanted to be. She had learned, by now, not to bring up her father’s name any more than necessary, lest it remind the folks around here about why he had been killed.. and set them toward suspecting her of being a heretic as well. But her grandfather, though she had never known him, had always maintained a reputation for being exactly what these people expected. His name bore no suspicion of heresy.

The man’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Of course, my lady. I have heard of you, most certainly, but to my knowledge, you do not visit the arena, as your grandfather used to do. That is a sore regret, for you are certainly missing out! I highly recommend coming to watch, if you should ever feel the desire for entertainment. It is most thrilling to...”

“I have no time or interest in your sort of ‘entertainment’, sir.” She cut him off, leaving out her own personal opinions about such things. Watching animals rip each other apart, with no way to get away from one another? Watching them tear helpless people to pieces? She found it astonishing that anyone would enjoy watching such a sight, and it made her despise the man who encouraged such things, all for ‘entertainment’. “Will a promissory note suffice?”

“I suppose it will.” He agreed. After all, if the payment was not made, they knew where to find her, and so would any assassin. It would be a very bad idea to not pay up, and she fully intended to pay, so that there was no question she had purchased the little creature legitimately. The best part about this? Today happened to be her birthday. This seemed like the best birthday present she could have gotten for herself.

Ava nodded once, then turned to her nearest lady servant and gently passed her new acquisition to her. “Careful with him,” She warned the woman, then turned to another servant, who already held out the writing supplies to her. Before long, she handed the man a note promising that if he came to her estate at any time to collect the designated amount, it would be given. Her signature assured that it would be so.

“What’re you planning to do with him, anyway?” The seller wondered as he inspected the note, then tucked it carefully away. “I’ll bet you’re wanting a rug… Or, I know.. you’re gonna make yourself a fancy fur coat, right?” He laughed, meaning that as a joke; it was far too warm for coats around here, especially made of fur.

Ava gave him an icy look. “What I will do with him is my own business.” She replied, clearly displeased by the remark. She turned to her servant, ignoring the man now. After taking her new baby back from the servant, Ava cuddled the kitten as she walked away, smiling at it. She was already thinking about what all she would need to do to ensure he survived. She’d learn everything she needed to know. She’d ensure there was a suitable amount of space for him to run and play, and later, hunt. She would also have to train him, and of course.. first of all, acquire milk for him until he could eat meat. She would have to figure out what sort of milk was acceptable to feed him, and so forth.

The tiny feline nuzzled her chin and squeaked, then tried to lick her jaw. “Aww,” She gently kissed him on the top of his little head. “You’re so adorable,” She whispered lovingly. “Poor little thing, left an orphan so young, by cruel and evil men.” She murmured, then blinked and looked into his fuzzy little face. His eyes were still closed, so she couldn’t look at those. “Just like me.” She added softly, so softly even her nearest servants would either not hear, or they would pretend not to have heard. The small creature wriggled and crawled closer, then sniffed her nose before squeaking again. Ava laughed softly. “You’re such a sweetheart, aren’t you?” She asked, then her smile widened a little. “That’s what I’ll call you. Izrê.” She grinned as she pried a tiny little claw from her shoulder, while lightly stroking his fiery, black-streaked coat. “Izrazor,” She amended, thinking she liked the sound of that better. Izre could be a shortened name for that. “Let’s go home, Izrê.”

*as discussed and plotted with Ercassie

@Rillewen
It was a hot, heavily arid day. And the line of folk outside the aqueduct reservoir was only despair and futility.

Strong cordons of guards were there, with whips and sabers, to ensure there was no trouble, as long lines of townsfolk and labourers lined to receive their daily ration of clean water. The system of reservoirs across the city was one of the marvels left by their Adunaic forefathers, who came from over the sea from a legendary homeland that may or may not have existed only in myth. With their engineering prowess, they had constructed a series of underground tunnels, aqueducts, that brought in clean water from the surrounding mountains, as seawater was generally unconsumable and unhealthy. Carefully laid and sloping tunnels allowed fresh water from the nearby hills and mountains to flow, away from the burning purview of the sun which would have evaporated it long before it reached the city. These Qanats fed the teeming city of thousands water for all their needs. Drinking, bathing, cooking.

Without it, the city would find itself without watering, unable to feed it’s fields, it’s produce, it’s people. Soon enough, without it, the city itself might return to desert after a generation or two.

In previous centuries, a man or woman of Umbar could take as much water as their hands could carry. In cups, in buckets, in basins. They used to be such festive gathering places. Men would rest their worn feet after a hard day of labour in cool water, gossiping and chatting. Women would bathe their rambunctious children on the stones. Barbers would set up shop, clipping the curly beards of great and wizened old men. It had been endless in it’s flow, in the glory days of Umbar.

Now, each man and woman were to be spared only a short amount, as water levels had been steadily decreasing over the past few years. Work on the qanats, requiring tremendous funds and expertise, had usually been managed by either a single noble family of Umbar, or many working together in tandem to provide this service to the commonfolk. Just one of the many forms of generosity carried out by their social betters.

But now, such work…had become politicized. Rich men thought only of profits and influence, not of the common good. And there was nothing to be gained, politically, from such acts of charity. This particular reservoir had for a whole millennium been under the maintenance of the great House Gimlân. And Lord after Lord had kept it filled and flowing, at their own expense, to the acclamation of the commonfolk who drew water from it’s deep recesses, fed by many qanats.

But someone had betrayed Lord Gimlân.

And in return, his generosity was…withdrawn. The qanats were allowed to fall into disrepair and water was backed up or restricted from filling the reservoir. City officials placed what was left under close guard and ration. Perhaps by his own command and influence. The rich and important got whatever they needed. Psh, why care about the proles? The rest…were left to fate. Such cruelties and selfishness seemed to be on the rise. And none ever dared to speak out that there might be a correlation between such rise in excesses…and the return of the God-King to his golden throne. Maybe He would stop it, if they prayed enough, offered enough sacrifice, enough service, to his adherents…

But for Haarith, who stood nearby in the shade, cooled by iced wine, watched as men and women were turned away with such feeble amounts of water, scarcely enough to parch their thirsts for a day under the hot sun, let alone the other needs such as bathing or cooking. Those that complained were whipped or struck by clubs. And if any dared to make appeals to Lord Gimlân, they were also whipped by his new escort of guards. They wanted answers and relief well…so did he.

One of them must know. One of them must have answers or clues. One of them would eventually break and give him what he wanted.

The names of those responsible for the robbery that took place at his home.

Until then, all shall suffer, until his suffering was alleviated. And he judged this in his mind to be fair, to be justice, though it was but aimless revenge, carried out upon whoever was within his grasp. Because he knew nothing about what happened. That enraged him the most. One of them will speak up, crushed under the pressure of suffering or the suffering of loved ones. Someone will reveal the names and whereabouts of these thieves. And so he watched, those who should have praised his family name year after year, suffer. And it pleased him, feeling he was getting one step closer to the answers he desired.

@Lantaelen
She had spent the first part of the morning in exercise, trying out some new idea she'd had for rope climbing. The recently acquired silk sheets had been put to a new use, and she was enjoying trying out the various ways she could combine balance and strength training into rope climbing and tumbling. Once the heat became too intense for her to continue her workout, Ava had spent a while swimming in one of the various pools that existed on her estate. She'd chosen one that was in a more shaded location.

Izrazor had joined her, lounging in the shallow part of the pool to cool off. After she had swam for a while, though, the sun shifted position so that the pool was no longer in the shade. Ava came inside to have a light lunch, while thinking about what she'd do with the rest of the day. She had just curled up in one of the balcony couches, with a plate of various fruits; pomegranate, kiwi, dates, strawberries, passion fruit, and dragon fruit. The meal was completed with a nice, cool glass of iced limonana, made fresh that morning by her cooks.

While she was sipping her drink, looking out over her balcony at the grounds of her estate, Ava observed some of her servants as they went about their work; cleaning the pools and tending to the gardens and so forth. Something about the way some seemed to whisper together made her curious. It was as if there was some sort of rumor being passed around. As if something were troubling them all. Interesting. A maid came down the hallway a moment later, wearing a troubled expression.

Ava considered for a moment as she took a sip of her drink, then decided to ask. "What is the trouble?"

The maid jumped slighlty, startled. "Oh.. my lady, I didn't realize you were there.."

Ava gave a small nod to show her understanding, but she waited for the woman to answer her question.  

"Umm, trouble?" She hesitated. "Well," the woman fidgeted with her duster. "It doesn't really affect us too much, here, m'lady. But, well, it's just a rumor, but they're saying there's no water for anyone in the city."

Ava tilted her head in curiosity. "There ought to be. There are the Qanats to bring water in..." She trailed off as the woman shifted her feet and shook her head slightly. "What?"

"They're saying.. they've been shut off. That there's no water left.." She explained uncomfortably. "I don't know why, but.." She hesitated. "It won't affect us, will it ma'am? I mean, you have another source of water, right?" She asked anxiously. "Several of the others aren't sure.. they think we're going to be in a severe draught soon..."

Ava pondered that for a moment. She knew that many of her pools were filled with water from the sea; the salt helped to keep the water clear and clean. The fountains used seawater, also, for the same reason. But she had not had reason to give any thought to where the water came from for other things. Things that they needed pure, saltless water for. Her gaze dropped to the pitcher of limonana, then back up to the woman. She gave a small, reassuring smile to the maid. "Do not worry. I will look into the matter right away." She assured her. She finished off her glass, then stood. "If you are thirsty, you're welcome to the remainder of this," She indicated the pitcher that she left on the table.

As for Ava, she went to her own private chambers and changed into something nicer. Something for going into town. Along the way, she paused to speak with one of her security people, requesting that they pass a message to Ashar, her head security man, to let him know that she would be going to town and would like an appropriate entourage to accompany her. Once those arrangements were made, she continued to her room to prepare for her trip to town.

An hour or so later, she arrived in town wearing a pink dress rich in gold-colored embroidery, with a white underskirt, also embroidered. The fabric was light and airy enough to keep her cool under the intense heat of the summer. She was accompanied by four men servants; bodyguards, for the most part. Otherwise, if she chose to purchase anything, they could carry anything she chose to buy. For this particular trip, she did not bring any female servants.

The line of people could be seen from a long way off. Curious, and assuming this may be the source of the rumor she had heard, Ava turned her steps toward this, following it all the way to the Qanat. She stood a little way off, observing the line, as well as the folks who came away from it. Folks who looked upset, unsatisfied, and frightened. Some, even bearing bruises and the marks of a whip. Her arms folded over her chest as she watched from a slight distance, her gaze scanning around until she spotted him. Ava's eyes narrowed slightly as she observed him from afar for a moment. Then she approached, her people moving along with her. While Ava was clearly in the lead, her servants flanked her, staying close enough that it was obvious that they would defend her if anyone gave her any trouble.

"Lord Gimlan." Ava greeted him as she approached, keeping her tone to a 'forced polite' sort of tone. She cast her gaze about at the line of people, as if somewhat bored by the sight of so many people suffering from thirst and poor treatment. "What's going on?" She waved a slender arm vaguely toward the line. "Trouble with the Qanat?" She wondered, raising an eyebrow. "Does it require maintainence?"

@Rillewen Who should appear on the periphery of his vision but her.

Like a desert flower, Lady Hazadazra cut a colourful streak through the dull browns and beiges and sandy hues of the Umbarin marketplace, a woman with means and clearly unaffected by the recent drought. His own spies had reported her pools and gardens remained flourishing and happy. Strange wasn’t it, that he had spies on a woman who was barely involved in the Temple or the politics of the city. No, he had informants on this woman not because she was competition or a threat, but because she had almost been…his wife.

And she had refused. A woman of her condition was rare indeed, to be the head of her great house, with tremendous wealth and resources. It was rare in these recent times in Umbar that a lady should command such power without the purview of a man to wisely direct those gifts to truer purposes. Like the war. Haarith, like others, upon the death of the old Lord Hazadazra had made attempts to garner and acquire such means for their own ambitions. To do this, they had to marry the last remaining Hazadazra. But she seemed to see no sense or wisdom in doing so. It was such a waste, to let her family’s wealth just sit and squander itself away on futile things such as pretty dresses and gardens. Whole armies could be outfitted. Influence could be won amongst the desert tribes. If he couldn’t possess it, he sure wanted to know who else might garner that power, if at all. So far, no other suitor seemed to have captured her attention. But he was watching. Always watching.

Now she had spotted him. And Haarith noted her.

And then she began to approach him.

One of his guards, newly employed after the recent purging of his household, moved to intercept. The tribal, a large man who was all brawn and little brains, clearly did not note Lady Hazadazra as a woman of rank and stature in the city. His hand went to his curled whip at his side, ready to drive off what he assumed to be another beggar of the commons. But a sharp whistle from Haarith froze the man’s blood and he looked back in question. Haarith leveled a fierce glare at the man. You do not touch this one. You don’t even breathe your foul air in her noble direction…

The guard fell back into line and Lady Hazadazra approached with her greeting. Haarith at once readopted his bored observation of the reservoir conduct, matching her own expression. ”Lady Hazadazra,” Haarith finally acknowledged her, after she asked three questions in rapid succession, almost making him roll his eyes. She had never cared about such things before, had she? This was politics. A part of him did like her attentions on him. She had such pretty eyes. A true daughter of the Yôzâyan.

He ignored her queries at first. He didn’t answer to her. ”What lovely commodity or wise cracking tradesfolk has drawn you out of your rose petal covered pools this afternoon? Or perhaps you seek to give prayer and thanksgiving at the Temple? I would warn you they prefer more…” his eyes swept down and then up on her outfit, ”somber tones there.”

Oh, but where were his manners? Haarith gestured at a servant, two of them, one who held a flagon and the other who produced a cup. ”Would you take a sip of lemon water with me?” He offered her, even as many hundreds of their countrymen and women suffered from thirst just a few dozen feet away.

@Lantaelen
As the guard moved to intercept her, Ava cast a somewhat disdainful glance toward him, with obvious disinterest, as if he were barely worthy of her attention. Since he shrank back to his master's side before he had a chance to bother her, she didn't let her gaze linger on him. Though, her thoughts did, for a moment. Wondering if he might prefer a position in her staff. But that was unlikely, right? Haarith probably owned him, and wouldn't be interested in selling. Too bad.

Outwardly, her attention lingered on Gimlan, although she was hard-pressed not to scoff in disdain at him, for his response. A true idiot, she thought, suppressing an eye-roll. If she kept her pools covered in rose petals, they'd eventually end up rotting in the water, and then the water would turn all gross. She wasn't into that. Besides, it would hinder the ability to swim properly. Not to mention, she figured that would make it less enjoyable for Izrazor to lounge and swim in the water. A rose-petal bath? Sure. Not a pool. Not that he would know any of those things, of course.

And then, he mentioned the temple. It was a central part of the city here, and therefore, a central part of almost everyone's lives. And, in turn, ended up being a center point of conversation at some point or another. And it made her sick that it still existed. That the priest still existed, as well. The response she wanted to give to Gimlan was completely opposite of the one she actually did give him. Instead, she smiled politely in response to his 'rebuke'. "I have been to the temple earlier this week, actually." She assured him.

She'd been to that foul place more times than she wanted to count in the last ten years or so... all for the sake of keeping up the appearance of being dedicated to its teachings. And every time, her mind would stray toward wondering how the whole place might be destroyed. Every time, while she kept up her mask of impartiality, she was wondering what it would take to demolish the whole temple... and bury the priest under the rubble. None of what was going on in her mind was reflected on her face, however. She had schooled herself years ago in maintaining her expression so that her inner walls hid her true feelings.

Lemon water? She had left a tastier beverage to come out here. And she certainly didn't feel inclined to sip a drink with him. And what about all those people waiting in the line, most of whom could barely get a cup of water for their entire household? Yet, she also didn't think it would be wise to add fuel to his enmity, which she'd apparently acquired, after rejecting his marriage proposal. "How gracious of you, Lord Gimlan." She replied. Although she found it difficult to use a cordial tone with him, she managed to at least keep it civil and devoid of her distaste of him, or at least she hoped she did. "Thank you, I will... on one condition." She tilted her head toward the line of their poorer, dehydrated countrymen. "If you will satisfy my curiosity." She added, in a subtle prompt to remind him she'd asked about what was going on with the qanat.

@Rillewen
To his perception, Haarith perceived Lady Hazadazra to be nothing more than an innocent soul. So lucky that she was unlucky. Born into immense wealth and privilege, but seemingly…aimless. Doing nothing, but going through the motions, waiting for someone to come and just utilize what she had been given. It was not right, that so idle a person should be given such resources and just sat on them. They should be put to use in some ambition or project. Haarith in the past had once tried to help her, by offering marriage, to command and control those resources for her and exchange them for glory or honour with the city and Temple. And the One. But she had been adamant in remaining as she was. Unused. Unutilized. Wasted.

In any case, he thought it too late for a slacker like her to take an interest in Umbar’s affairs. Or the matter with the qanat. Everything had a price and so did information. Like the information he was seeking. But he was apparently too blind to see the answer in front of him. War loomed on the horizon but he supposed he could give her a brief pass for trying to take an interest in her homeland’s situation, whether domestic or foreign. She would only accept a cup of water with him if he answered her original query about the water situation. His eyebrows rose as he regarded her intently a moment. Seemed a waste of water, and air, to indulge that curiosity. This was serious business he was conducting, watching men and women of his own race suffer. There was much more at stake for him.

After a brief pause, he made the gesture for another servant, a slave woman, to carry forth a ceramic cup filled with cool water and a slice of lemon on the rim, to be presented to Lady Hazadazra. On her knees, without making eye contact with the noblewoman. Because that was how decorum was done in the city of Umbar.

He chose his words very carefully. Because it was all a rehearsed lie. As he couldn’t let it get out there that he had been humiliated by a thief. ”Saboteurs.” Haarith said to Lady Hazadazra. ”They have been conducting a campaign against our fair city and it’s rulers. To weaken and divide us, before the great assault. Myself and others have been affected. They have caused damage to our water supply and now we must ration what we have left, until such matters could be resolved.” He explained to her, eyes wide and unblinking as he looked hard upon the reservoir. He did not explain how he had been affected. He clearly wasn’t suffering for a lack of water. He did have to pay for this problem though. And he had just been robbed.

”If we merely fix it, they shall damage it again, causing us to waste precious resources. No, unfortunately we must all suffer, until we root out these traitors and spies. For the good of all.” He said, excusing himself from his responsibility. Until it was safe again to do so. And it would only be safe when he had the robber in question strung up and tortured and broken half to death. But there would be no death, no escape from the punishment he had to inflict for this transgression.

”You should not be here either, in fact. It is dangerous and the wrong eyes might fall upon you, Lady. Go home and lock your doors. Or find yourself an able protector. Great changes are about to come and Umbar will be changed, I can assure you. You’ll want to be ready.” Haarith said to her quietly. A little bit of…class solidarity. Because he’d never imagine it was she who was behind his loss.

@Lantaelen
Whatever was going on, Ava did not truly expect the man before her to tell her the truth. And she was correct. Saboteurs? Really? It was difficult to push down the skepticism that made her want to roll her eyes. Instead, she widened them slightly as if in shock to hear this, while her mind was racing to analyze what really happened. "How horrible," She muttered, while not believing a word of it. "Damage?" She asked, lowering the glass in her hand, and gave it a look, then raised her eyebrow at him. As if to say, if the water is damaged, why are we drinking it?

As he went on to explain that they could not fix it, because they would simply damage it again, Ava frowned thoughtfully and looked toward the reservoir as well, thoughtful. Upon hearing his words of warning to her, that it was too dangerous, Ava had to fight all the harder not to roll her eyes. She turned her gaze back to him, tilting her head slightly. Find herself an able protector? Did he not see the four burly men that she had brought along, as her bodyguards? She technically did not really need them, but it did make a better appearance when she went about with a group of servants around her. But now, how to respond to Haarith?

"I appreciate your concern, lord Gimlan." She replied cordially. "I assure you that all of my doors remain locked quite securely, however." In fact, she always kept her home as secure as it possibly could be, ever since the night her father was murdered. She tested her security team frequently, to make sure that they could prevent intrusions such as the ones she had recently performed in Haarith's estate. "In fact," She lowered her voice with a quick glance to one side, then the other, and shared a 'secret' with the lord, "I have heard some rumors going around that there have been a few burglaries to occur. Perhaps, you ought to consider doubling your own security, just in case."

Having shared that rumor with him, Ava had to fight not to smirk. Instead, she turned her gaze back to the qanat, considering. Focusing on the excuse he had given her. "If you believe the saboteur will strike again," She mentioned quietly, "Then it seems to me that you have a perfect opportunity to catch them." She raised her glass so that it would conceal her mouth from anyone who might be observing, as if there could be spies about. "You could make the necessary repairs, and set a trap so that when this saboteur tries to damage it again..." She shrugged slightly as she let the sentence trail off. He would get the meaning, of course.

As for changes coming to Umbar, she did hope for that. But not in the way that he was probably thinking. "Oh?" She asked, sounding intrigued. "And what exactly need I do, to be ready for these changes?" She asked quietly, with a tone as if she were both curious and concerned. "What sort of changes are you expecting to occur?" She wondered, speaking with a hushed voice as if they were sharing secrets only permitted for the high-born of their society to know. "Good changes? Or bad?" She blinked innocently and looked at him with wide, questioning eyes.

@Rillewen
Haarith made no secret of his disdain when Lady Hazadazra mentioned her doors being locked and secured. His had been too, but that hadn’t stopped the thief, or thieves. There had to have been more than one. It had been too skillful and competent to have just been done by any one thief. He refused to believe that. And he hated just how little he actually knew about the entire breech of his security. But someone would know. Word would get around. Jewels and baubles like that would get sold and the money would talk and someone would report it to him. In time. He would squeeze them all until someone talked.

But then Lady Hazadazra said something interesting. She had heard of a few burglaries going on. How curious. Why wasn’t she reporting this to the Council or the Temple? Because she had no husband and therefore no link to the political decision makers of the city. In any case, what use was doubling his security when everything of value had already been taken from him? Well, almost everything. They had left the dagger behind…

He would want to hear more of these rumours though. And who was speaking them.

Still, she spoke like she was some kind of expert, of obvious security measures and of laying traps for saboteurs. There are miles of underground tunnels. In all directions from the city. One would need to employ a small army to patrol it and lay traps and the saboteurs could still probably find a section to damage to impede water flow. But he said nothing, and merely smiled and seemed to accept her advice. ”Very wise, Lady Hazadazra.” He just placated her with a compliment. Because there were no saboteurs. It was the usual wear and tear, to a system of canals and tunnels that were a millennia old and more. But he wasn’t going to fix it. He wanted the people thirsty and suffering. And only the virtue of revealing the thieves who insulted and wronged him would alleviate their misery.

Look at her eyes though, as they looked at him with such curiosity and innocence when she asked about the nature of these changes. She would have made a great wife for a great lord of Umbar. She still could. Only by virtue of being politically irrelevant is probably why she hadn’t been burglarized yet. And certainly not any other reason, right? ”War.” He told her, with a sly smile. ”Victory. Triumph. And you.” Haarith pointed at her with a brief gesture. ”You should get married and get yourself a husband, if you wish to have yourself a slice of the glory and riches that will soon come to us. The One has returned and he will bring his most devoted servants power and influence beyond reckoning. You do not want to be the only family left without these gifts, Lady.”

He moved closer, hands behind his back, coming mere inches away from her. ”You do not want to be without a protector in these times, Lady Hazadazra. Your family is ancient and esteemed. I would hate to see the fortunes of so noble a House regulated to the periphery because of your…foolish notions of freedom. It is not like the old days, where a woman of our high race can stay unwed for half a century without consequence. Time is running out.” Haarith said in a low tone. ”I understand though, without a father or brothers to guide you, it can all seem very daunting, this matter of marriage and choice. Perhaps I shall put it to the Council, so that a suitable spouse for you can be selected among the great Houses of Umbar. I will take this burden off your shoulders for you.” Haarith pitched for her, with his own devious smirk, because the candidate he would put forth would be…himself.

@Lantaelen
She could tell, by the way he looked, that he was not impressed by her suggestion. Though he told her that it was a wise thought, she was fairly sure that he did not actually agree. So, either he had been lying to her about a saboteur, or he did not really think her plan would work. She was leaning toward the former, but she had no way of knowing, yet. Honestly, he sounded more like he was patronizing her, with that reply. And she did not care for it, but she managed to restrain her annoyance.

When he replied to her question about the changes, she was not surprised to hear 'war' come from his mouth, first. Victory. Triumph. The last, however, made her want to raise an eyebrow. Her? Did he actually just count her in the same group as victory and triumph? Keeping her temper during this conversation, if one could call it that, was growing more and more challenging. He deserved a kick between the legs. She wanted to give it to him. But she did not dare provoke a powerful lord of Umbar to become openly hostile toward her. He could prove quite dangerous to her, if he so chose. As much as she wanted to lash back, either with a foot, or verbally... she refrained. Barely.

While his words about the One having returned filled her with a cold dread inside, Ava managed to maintain an appearance of calm. "Of course," She replied, wearing a little smile. 'As for marrying you... sure, when the Cracks of Doom have frozen to ice.' She thought, which helped her smile to appear a bit more genuine. "How considerate of you, my lord." She replied. "To think of me."

He went on, to speak of her needing a protector. Although, actually, he spoke of protecting.. her fortune. Not her. As if she did not already know what he was truly after, with his relentless pursuit of her for a bride. Ava couldn't help a little smile, though. "Oh, how kind of you, to worry about my safety." She told him, despite the fact he had shown no such concern, in reality. "But you needn't worry, I assure you. In fact," She lowered her voice as she leaned a tiny bit nearer, sharing a secret. "Someone actually attempted to break into my home, just the other night," She revealed. "But the attempt was thwarted by my excellent security team." She assured him with a little smile. "They really are quite good at their jobs. As they should be, as much as I pay them." She added, subtly making sure to point out that her people were paid, and therefore did their jobs well. Very well.

Her smile threatened to drop, however, at the notion he had presented of suggesting to the Council that they select a husband for her. She caught her breath for a second, blinking. Could they actually do that? She felt a chill sweep over her skin, despite the heat of the sun. Could the Council actually force her to marry someone? She had not considered that possibility. While she managed not to lose the smile entirely, it did appear to soften slightly into a fainter one. "How very considerate of you, to think of lightening my burden, lord Gimlan." She answered, while her thoughts raced for some sort of solution out of this. She drew a slow breath and let her smile grow a bit. "As it happens, however, I have already made a choice in the matter." She informed him vaguely. Not entirely a lie; she had made a choice. That she would not marry anyone. At least, not unless she found someone who was good and kind and true, and who loved her. Not her money. And that candidate was most certainly not the man before her.

@Rillewen
She might be seeing through his words, detecting the hidden undertones that spoke to his real intentions, but Lord Haarith was blinded by his own arrogance to think her smart enough to know that. She stayed in her estate so much he perceived her to be nothing more than a lucky, spoiled child. Lucky to inherit her fortune. Spoiled, to be able to relax and lounge all day without regard for the greater works and condition of their great city. Umbar needed formidable agents and representatives. People like Lady Hazadazra, when they sat on their wealth or indulged in their desires, were detriment to the glorious future the rest of the Council was trying to build. It may as well be treason to let such resources sit around and do nothing. Maybe he might go that path if she continued to refuse to see the reason and wisdom in his offers of marriage…

There were in fact many women who would marry him, if only for access to his wealth, his power, and his influence. Marriage had nothing to do with love in Umbar. It was meant to forge alliances between Houses and beget children to continue these proud legacies. But Haarith in his greed could not settle for something he already could have. Money could acquire him anything, even harems of women willing or otherwise. The object of his desire had to be the one woman who was not so easy to acquire. With reputation, family name, and wealth, Lady Hazadazra checked all those boxes. And he knew he was not the only one seeking her hand. The last thing he wanted was a rival to take her first.

If he couldn’t have it, maybe it ought to be denied to everyone else. A dark, but amusing, thought.

He did however lose his haughty smile when Lady Hazadazra revealed there had been an attempted burglary on her home. And repelled, thanks to her paid security teams. Haarith thought such notions of fair exchange for services rendered was a foolish idea. They were lords and nobles. By their very blood, the commoners ought to know their place and be eager to serve their betters and superiors. It was one of the few ways to bring value to their pitiful lives. ”Must have been different from those that burglarized me. And others. Amateur ones, perhaps.” He said, like he would know and that she wouldn’t. Because how could she, right? But her revelation clearly discomforted him.

As did her second piece of news, that she had made a choice in regards to her future spouse. His eyebrow rose and he expected her to reveal this lucky individual’s name. So Haarith could investigate them and put the wheels in motion…to complete ruin and destroy this man, from his wealth and resources down to his reputation and name. He looked her up and down as the seconds passed by, no further details or information seemingly forthcoming about this chosen spouse. Because that’s what he assumed. Staying unwed would never be in the cards for a Lady like her. It was wasteful. It was detrimental. It may as well be treason. Either way, marriage or sedition, he was going to get his hands on her familial wealth. And put it to better use.

”And who is the lucky individual that will grace your hand with a ring?” He finally had to ask, when the silence continued to stretch after her reveal. ”You better tie that knot soon then, before you find your wedding ceremony bereft of ranking guests, everyone being away at the War earning glory and honour for their names.” He lectured her lightly. She really had no menfolk of her family left to tell her these things, did she? It continued to irk Haarith how such power and influence could just be sitting dormant and idle.

@Lantaelen
Ava's expression showed surprise as Haarith spoke of 'those who had burglarized him'. "You?" She asked, her eyes widening as she leaned in a bit closer and lowered her voice. "You mean to say that you were burglarized, also?" She whispered, feigning complete surprise, yet careful not to speak too loudly, lest others overhear. "That's terrible. Did you suffer a great loss?" Inwardly, she was feeling extremely pleased with her success in getting him to admit the burglary had happened at all. She had begun growing weary of his company, but she was curious to know what effect her robbery may have had on him. She was also curious what had become of that woman she'd freed.

As for the matter of her supposed fiancé, she was not oblivious to the fact that he seemed to be waiting for her to add more, like a name, but she didn't offer one. In the meanwhile, she took a sip of her water and watched the crowds gathered around the qanat, thoughtful. "Would the.. burglary.. have anything to do with what's going on here, today?" She asked, turning to blink her big brown eyes at him, managing to look curious and innocent at the same time.

When he asked about the 'lucky individual', Ava feigned a shy little smile. "I'm afraid it'll be quite some time, unfortunately," She explained. "He's away at sea, captaining a ship, aiding in the war effort." She tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, smiling softly. "As for his name," She paused, looking at him as if she were about to share the secret, "Well... after the tragic death of the last man to whom I was betrothed... he and I have decided to keep our betrothal secretive until we're able to properly begin wedding plans." She explained. A convenient way to put it off indefinitely. And to avoid having anyone do any checking up to verify the story, if they didn't know the name of the captain in question. But, considering the men in her family had all been corsairs for generations, it was perfectly suitable that she might marry one.

"I'm sure you understand," She added with an apologetic smile. "I wouldn't want anything happening to him, as with the other." She sighed. "That was truly tragic, and it took so long to even think of finding another to marry..." She didn't mean a word of it, of course... she had, in fact, been immensely relieved that she hadn't needed to marry that fellow. But Haarith didn't need to know how she truly felt about it. And if it so happened that he ended up killing any of the corsair captains in an attempt to slay her new fiancé, then that would aid her in a way he would not even realize. "Anyway, the fewer people who know of our betrothal, the less likely it is that anyone will harm him." She concluded. "The murderer never was found, after all. For all I know, someone could try again." She added with the utmost seriousness, as if she had no clue that the man before her was the one responsible for hiring the assassin who had killed her former betrothed.

@Rillewen
Haarith did not appreciate the young Lady’s reaction of surprise and astonishment to the fact that he got robbed, of all people. He was not supposed to be perceived like that! That such a thing could happen to a man of standing and rank like him. Least of all that a desirable and wealthy woman of nobility like she should behold. Embarrassment flushed over his features for a moment, raising his hand to get her to relax on the topic. It was still very sensitive and confidential, that level of information. And she was correct in guessing that the water difficulties had to do with that. Only because he was making it so, in order to flush out any informants on what had happened to him, under the guise of sabotage.

”It could all be possibly connected, linked to a greater conspiracy against Umbar by our enemies. You cannot rule anything out, my Lady. Even dangers against you, vulnerable as you are on the outskirts of our society.” Haarith said to divert the conversation away from his burglary. Maybe if she kept on prodding at it, he might have to make it happen to her, to get her to understand how devastating it could be. And put this ridiculous security team of hers to rest. She paid them well, huh? How mercenary of them. If they had a price tag, it could always be beaten. Betrayed from within. The only true way to garner loyalty was fear and intimidation.

But oh, she had a suitor, apparently. Haarith gave her the appearance of a kindly smile, like an elder paying lip service attention as some child or youngster regaled them with some fantastical tale of something in truth so ordinary. Tucking her fine hair back behind her ear. Look at her. She was in love with this devilish, charming sea-captain. Who was he? Haarith would like to know. He felt he knew who most of the primary captains were in the fleets of Umbar. He made it his business to know. Some he already had in his pocket. But, with his (erroneous) assumptions about Lady Hazadazra’s character, he assumed they would be on the younger end, classically handsome, rich, connected. Few fit the bill. And those he did presume were…not exactly the sharpest ball in the barrel.

She was secretive about the whole arrangement, correctly fearing…there would be hostility, born out of opportunity and revenge and jealousy, over whoever she might pick as her spouse. There was so much to acquire. Or lose. In the game of politics in Umbar, every little piece mattered. ”With all that is happening, you are wise to keep it under wraps. I appreciate the fact that you shared that much with me. I can ensure you I will guard this information.” He said, though he clearly intended to look into it vigorously and…cause some ruckus. The last thing the City needed is some rambunctious Captain jumped up by a match to such a woman of high nobility, being reckless and brash.

Hands folded behind his back, he continued to hold his kindly smile. ”So, are you still interested in making a donation to the repair and upkeep of the qanat then? I cannot guarantee the pipes would not be damaged again after their repair but the people need water. I can put in a good word for you and your House with the Council.” He promised her, an act that would no doubt bring greater scrutiny upon her, as more eyes and ears started to behold the promise and potential that Lady Hazadazra was. Maybe even flush out this secret match of hers. And arrange for a very special dagger to be planted in his heart, the blackguarded fiend, taking what should belong to him…

@Lantaelen
Was that embarrassment she saw flicker across his face for a brief moment? Ava was inwardly pleased, if that were the case. An arrogant guy like this needed to be taken down a notch or two. Or ten. She managed to hold back a smirk, but only because of much practice. While she hadn't raised her tone above a hushed volume, she still complied with the unspoken request to quiet down. Word would get out, sooner or later, without her help.

His theory that it was all connected made her want to roll her eyes. Instead, she widened them and cast a slow glance around, as if she might spot one of these supposed conspirators lurking around. "I see." She answered thoughtfully. "Perhaps I ought to increase my security, yet again." She muttered, as if to herself, but mostly just so that he would hear and think that she believed his words. Actually, at the moment she was quite satisfied with her team, for they had genuinely managed to stop her from breaking into her own house, just as she had said. It was a regular thing that she did, as a test for her guards, to see how well they could keep an intruder from entering, while at the same time, testing her own skills to see whether she could get past them. And while it was always a bit disappointing, for herself, to fail in her attempt.. it was extremely reassuring at the same time, knowing that her people could stop her from breaking into her own home. That meant there were very few others who could manage the same.

"Your secret is as safe with me, as mine is with you." Ava promised with a tiny, knowing smile. "We will be sure not to forget you when sending out invitations." She added. As Ava spoke of her pretend betrothed, she smiled with her own private amusement, which would then give the illusion that she really did care for this imaginary man. Let Haarith puzzle over who this captain could be. She wasn't about to give any names, because that would enable him to go looking for that person to try and verify her claim, and then he would be faced with the problem of whether Ava had lied, or if the man was lying when he denied any such betrothal. Her betrothal to a captain also did not seem to her like too far of a leap, since her grandfather had owned several ships and had given one of them to his son to captain, long ago. Ava's father had sailed a corsair ship before wrecking it on an island, where he met the woman he eventually married. Who had changed his perspective on everything, over the years.

Her thoughts concerning the made-up betrothal were interrupted when Gimlan spoke up, asking if she was still interested in making a donation, for the qanat. Ava turned her head to look at him. Donation? When did she speak of a donation? Did he think he would trick her into giving him money, just because he claimed she had expressed interest in a donation? He probably figured that because she was female, she wouldn't be smart enough to see through that. Idiot.

She was on the verge of pointing out that he himself had said it would be pointless to fix it, since the saboteurs would only damage it again.. and that would be a waste of money. But, the last bit, about putting in a good word for her at the Council, made her hold back her words. She looked at the aqueduct, rapidly thinking how best to handle this. "I suppose I could spare some of my slaves to help with repairs." She mentioned with a hint of reluctance, then shrugged as if not terribly concerned. But seeing these people being turned away with barely enough water to wet their mouths... it was horrible. She wanted to do everything she could for them. But she didn't think it would be wise to let Haarith know how much she wanted to help them. "I've already got a good deal of my money invested in a certain voyage, you see. One which I hope will help toward bringing about those great changes you spoke of," She added. Not that any of that was true, but if it were, she would be referring to her own idea of 'great changes', which opposed his idea. But he didn't need to know that.

"How much damage is there, anyway? How much do you expect it to cost, to fix it?" She wondered, motioning to the qanat, then lowered her voice. "I wouldn't imagine it would cost that much, would it?" She asked with seemingly sincere confusion, deliberately attempting to sound as if she knew so little about such things, in hopes that he might give up a little more information about what was the actual problem with the aqueduct, and what needed fixing, and so on. Then, trying to fish for a bit more information while at the same time, she made a blend of a compliment and insult as she added, "Surely, no burglar could have managed to rob you entirely, to the point you could not handle a simple repair such as this?" She asked in amazement, making sure she kept her voice to a whisper. "As rich and powerful as house Gimlan is, I find it shocking you would even need to ask for a donation, robbery or not." She tilted her head. "Did you really lose that much?" She asked with feigned concern. She didn't know what sort of results this would yield, but with any luck, she might get some sort of clue about the state of his funds after last night. It wasn't like she'd taken any gold, after all, so she knew he wasn't completely bankrupt.

@Rillewen
She seemed bewildered at the notion of a donation to the qanat repair fund. Why ask about it then, if she had no intention to aid or do anything about it? Just general childish curiosity? Seeing what the grown ups were up to? Perhaps to add some colour to her otherwise futile loitering day. She ought to stick to matters that only concerned her then, like her nuptials, and not worry about the politics of maintaining a city as great and prestigious as Umbar. Perhaps it ought to be a crime to freeload and critique the handling of infrastructure, while possessing resources and wealth to do something about it.

As for any saboteurs… Had she been wise to the ways of the city and council, she might have appreciated that her funds may have gone a ways into the defeat of such saboteurs, boosting her own prestige. But alas, her head was for the clouds only and not what was taking place here. In the sands. Instead she offered…slaves. She said it with a bored expression, as a person of privilege might, when consigning others to do their labours. Money was seemingly tight for her. Involved in a voyage of sorts? How interesting. What if the boat happened to disappear… That might put a squeeze on her. And recuperate some of his own lost treasury. He doubted she even knew of any power moves that might further the city’s objectives against it’s foes and in service to the One.

She started to really needle at the point of a donation, as if he needed help. A lost of significant funds, while unfortunate, was only a setback. His money was always at work and wealth can be presented and used in other forms. He would have it back soon enough. No, the donation was to help her. ”The damage is intricate. As these tunnels are burrowed underground out of sight of the sun, workers cannot access them from above, but have to crawl along these ancient pipes to the point of fracture or blockage and conduct repairs as they might. Send only your stoutest, if you do intend to follow through on your civic duty.” Otherwise mind your own business.

And if any accident should befall her people, it could be written off as an occupational hazard.

”Leave the money issues to your penny counters, though.” Haarith waved off her concerns, flashing a grin, mischief in his eyes now. She might be forthcoming with personal information but he was not. Her so-called betrothed may be attached to a rival’s faction or pact. And loose lips sank ships, as they said. She gave him several threads to chase down. He did not know some, or all, might not have any veracity to them. But he would run them down and see. Time would tell. ”I understand this all might be a bit beyond your capacities, my Lady. So feel free to leave it all in the care of your betters. For myself, I have seen enough, and I will take your leave to put my measures into place.” He gave a slight bow of his head, as decorum required, and signaled to his servants to begin packing up and making ready to depart.

@Lantaelen
As the man began to explain that the damage was intricate, and that the tunnels were ancient and susceptible to blocks and collapse, Ava nodded slowly, hiding her irritation when he suggested she leave it to her 'betters'. Such arrogance from one who'd just been robbed by her, and had no clue! She was privately amused by that thought, and so let her irritation subside. "Ahh, I see," She answered, as if finding this bit of information fascinating. "I never knew the qanat was so delicate." It was further interesting to know that people could travel around inside of it. Very interesting. How could she make use of that information?

It seemed as if she had offended him, though, by suggesting he had lost too much money. Enough so that he decided to take his leave. She had not really managed to find out what she really wanted to know. But... she had managed to find a way to infiltrate the qanat with some of her people. They could explore the tunnels, find out if it could be useful to her, and also, perhaps, ask some questions to gather information for her.

With a little dip of her head, Lady Hazadazra acknowledged the man's words of parting. "I wish you well in the repairs, lord Gimlan. I do hope the water begins to flow freely again, soon. It would be terrible for the crops to begin to die in this heat." It would be a tremendous blow to the economy, if the farmers could not get enough water to keep the crops growing. Indeed, if he was doing something to the qanat on purpose for some sort of petty payback, it would end up affecting him as much as it was everyone else. "I will certainly send some of my people to aid in the repairs." She added cordially as she prepared to leave.

"Oh, by the way," She added, turning back to him, as if recalling something. "I heard a rumor that you'd acquired a new toy or something. Displayed above your gates? I was curious what sort of prize you'd managed to catch, but when I passed by to get a look for myself.." She gave a little sigh of disappointment. "Well, I guess you must have already taken your prize down from display." She said with a hint of disappointment in her tone. "I had hoped to get a look for myself. Will you tell me, at least, what sort of prize you have acquired? Some great leader of the enemy, perhaps?" She asked, with a hopeful sort of expression, as if hoping to hear that the person who had been displayed over his gates, might be someone that would bring despair to Gondor, to have lost.

@Rillewen
I never knew the qanat was so delicate…

Yes, there’s a lot you don’t know. Haarith though did not retort that openly. Lady Hazadazra had spent the better part of her years and money loitering by the pool in her manor, while better men served and died and made a difference. She ought to know the price of inactivity, given what happened to her father. And Haarith had been there to witness that. He had smiled then, unapologetically. He would do the same if Lady Hazadazra’s sloth finally caught up to her. He tried to warn her. He could have helped her. She chose not to accept it.

He hummed in acknowledgement as she mentioned the crops and farmers, of her own people coming to assist. They were about ready to part ways, Haarith turning his back to gather his slaves and depart, when Lady Hazadazra struck up another pointed remark. About his recent acquirement of a new toy. A slave. From Gondor. Thankfully his back was turned to her at present, his scowl showing on his face as that had been another precious thing lost during the robbery. That’s how he suspected it had been an inside job. He lost treasure. He lost his prized sacrifice. Alarion had gotten away.

Once he controlled his expression, he turned back to her. ”I did, for a time. But it proved…rather indelicate, as a worthy Temple sacrifice. I am sure you know all about what’s worthy and what isn’t, by the priest’s tastes.” He said, a subtle reminder of what happened with her father. ”It is of small consequence who she was. Soon I will have another.” He said, controlling his tone and the narrative, which he assumed she would not know, not thinking to suspect she played some part in Alarion’s escape. A Gondorian officer would have been a major boon for his name among the priestly circles at the Temple. Blessings and favour upon his House. That would have to wait and hopefully not for long.

”I hope you have learned much to your profit about your duty, to City and Temple, Lady Hazadazra. Good day.” Haarith beckoned and with a firm gesture to his people, they collected his palanquin, allowing him to be seated, while strong, broken slaves lifted up the corners and carried him away, surrounded by a cordon of fresh, new guards. Behind the curtains of his litter, he could grumble and express his frustrations over the young Lady’s egging questions and queries. The folly of youth indeed. She had gotten to him, in more than one way, but soon…he would rectify that, in accordance with his scales of malice.

@Lantaelen
At last, she managed to get a bit of information out of the man concerning his prisoner. And for a moment, it was a challenge not to stare at him in a mixture of disgust and amazement. The temple? He'd been planning to take that woman to the temple as a sacrifice? Was he insane? She had only seen the woman briefly, but with the condition she'd been in... there was no way that woman would've been acceptable as a sacrifice. Because she did, of course, know all about what was deemed 'acceptable' and not, by Pharak's standards. She, more than anyone else, had to take extra care to be certain that her own 'offerings' were suitable. And she had, in the years since her father's death, had to bring more than the usual share of them. It sickened her.

Only thanks to much practice did Ava manage to keep her expression from matching the feelings going on inside. Especially at the jab about.. the temple. She guessed that it was meant to refer to the horrific murder of her father. And it was without a doubt nothing short of murder. Still, Ava swiftly locked away her own feelings about it into a little room in her mind. Those feelings were not allowed to exist while she was in public. Later, at home, perhaps she would revisit the feelings, and vent them into her punching bag or something. For now, she appeared unbothered by the jab about her father.

Instead, she showed the despicable man a sympathetic smile, while wondering whether he already had another person in mind. Was there any way she could find out what was going on at his estate? She wondered what his slaves might have to say about all of this. Was there any way she could sneak one of them out, like she had done that woman? New thoughts and ideas began to spark in her mind, but she kept it to herself.

Out loud, she said, "That's too bad. But I have no doubt in your ability to find another, more suitable tribute to offer, before the moon has changed." The time remaining for that was short, after all. As she had told him, Ava had already done her own loathsome duty, bringing some lowlife from the Warrens to serve as her tribute. A man who would have dragged her off into some alley for his own enjoyment, if she had not proven so skilled at fighting. She had her mother to thank for that, but of course, none of her peers would have any idea that Ava was more than just a pretty young woman with a lot of money. Her ability to fight was something she kept guarded, so it would prove a surprise to others, if ever she needed to use those skills.

And now, he was leaving. Good riddance. Ava had learned all she thought she would learn from him, so she gave a polite nod of farewell as he turned away from her again. "Good day, Lord Gimlan." She called after him, in a tone that seemed 'sweet', yet at the same time, held a hint of something else that, if one took the time to consider, might suggest mockery. But maybe it was only in one's imagination.

Watching the man get onto his absurd little palanquin, to be carried around by his slaves, she could barely refrain from rolling her eyes. And he considered her lazy? Ava turned away slightly. "Come, slaves." She ordered the men who had accompanied her, in a commanding tone loud enough to be overheard by her peer, and yet not so loud as to be obvious that it was meant for him to hear, "I still have to check at the docks to find out whether my fiancé's ship has returned." She declared. "I am eager to see him again, but I also want to know what he's managed to learn about the enemy's defenses." She added with an eager tone.

With her bodyguards around her, Ava set off in the direction of the harbor, hoping that Haarith would have heard that comment, since she only said it to give him the impression that she was doing things to fight against the same enemy as him. She would indeed go down to the harbor, stand there for a while looking around at the various ships, then go on about a few other miscellaneous errands before returning to her estate. She had a lot of things to think about, and plans to make... and more information to gather. Her secret operation was about to take a whole new turn, though she didn't even know it yet...


(I think that can be the end, if you agree)

There was nothing in the darkness, which was not there in the light of day.

His mother had told him that. And he wanted to believe it now more than he ever had before. Though there had been nights before this, when the small boy had been convinced that something lurked .. that he could hear .. some thing .. that he did not really even want to see. Now of course, he knew. Not a single night passed without the chorus of creaking, where the masses of pitch water pressed in against their walls of mere wood. Hours he’d lain awake, wondering when the endless wet world would punch through and swallow them all. Until he’d counted quite how many days it had been without that occurring. Until the number of days they’d not died .. had reached higher than any number he knew how to count. After that, he’d reasoned that if he’d believed they’d all drown ..and they hadn’t .. then that meant he had no reason to expect it any more. Each night now that he concerned, he told himself that this would be no different to the last night. And he knew he’d lived through that. He had no reason to think he'd not live through this night as well.

Reaching out his hand to where he could feel the barrel’s edge, to where he knew there would be apples .. he had managed to convince himself that he could take what he had come for, and go back. Back to bed, back to sleep. And back to what his life had become. But this night there was something in the darkness which had not been there the last time he had stood here, in the light of day. It snatched up his small hand with it’s far larger, stronger grasp, and heaved the child close against a body so much bigger than his own.


“You know better than that,” A familiar voice did not take away any of the fear which was smothering the boy’s breath. “Drop the apple, boy,” it suggested, with a shake at their point of contact, to make good his point. “Thieving will cost you a hand, or worse. If I call out.”

“Its not thieving,” he tried first to navigate negotiations. “I’m owed rations. Same as any one. And I’ve not eaten in days when the rest of you all have.”

“If you don’t think its wrong to take it, why did you wait until the dead of night, when nobody was around to see you then ? Answer me that,” the man put to him in a whisper.

“If you think I’m thieving, then why haven’t you called out and see me punished ?” the short thief reasoned back. “I think you came here for apples too. You’re only cross because I’m faster. I got first pick.” The audacity drew an unseen smile from the taller of the two. And a chortle betrayed his amusement, despite all the Corsair’s best intentions.


“Clearly no thrashing has ever put a lick of sense in you this far,” Khalsim admitted, releasing the child’s wrist. Though he took the apple off him, and bit a fair wedge out of the fruit before jamming the evidence in his pocket. “Though you damn well deserve it !” he suddenly threw out, bringing their faces in close enough to taste the halitosis. “What if someone else had caught you, eh ? What if ..”

“Everyone else worked so hard, they’re sleeping,” the boy pulled to be free and stuck his tongue out as a final insult, confident that it would go unseen in the dark. A cuff across the back of the head assured him that the corsair seemed to see through the night. Taken by surprise the boy dropped with a thud, his legs folding haphazardly beneath him. He was rubbing his behind with a frown when the man dropped to a squat and heaved the child in close, just in front of him, with a meaningful shake. That was warning enough to be still and shhhh. An empty stomach though would not be told, and gurgled unruly so that even the corsair closed his eyes and bit back a curse.


Seizing on the recognition that the man could not shout at him if he was so afraid of being overheard now, the boy clawed his nearest hand up toward the barrel’s rim, in a try to find a second apple. A large hand clamped down over his, and dragged it back down to their hiding place. It felt like an hour, or a week maybe, before there came no further sound to signify they were not all that was about, awake .. Slowly Khalsim unfolded unto his whole height, taking the boy back to upright, in his firm grasp, and released a breath. Then he clouted the child again.

“You’re the one who ate the apple,” the boy complained, rubbing at where the strike had fallen so that his hair was ruffled even further askew. “You’re the one whose hand they’ll have off ! You ate already today. But .. ”

“How do you earn your rations ?” the Corsair sighed, called the child’s bluff, and squatted back down to hush their exchange as far as he might still. “Answer me. Quick now.”


Faced with the question, the boy let his eyes fall offside, evading the man’s focused stare. “You know how,” he began.

“I want to hear you say it,” Khalsim did not let up.

“I look after the cat,” the child muttered, as though the answer hurt him to speak it.

“Cat’s dead,” the Corsair reminded him. As though there were any chance the child might have forgotten. “Been dead for days now. Which means you’ve earned naught for days now. Which means .. ”


Hot tears streamed in angry upset from the child’s eyes and he kicked back hard at the man’s shin, falling clumsily free from any and all grasp. A hiss of pain told him that his aim had been true and he was glad. He wanted to make the corsair hurt, like he was hurting. Then maybe he’d understand. Then maybe he would not say such things ..

“It was just a dumb cat,” Khalsim rolled his eyes. “I warned you. If you didn’t stop the thing from doing mess about the cook’s hammock .. ”

“He killed her and he cooked her and he put her in my bowl,” the child reminded his elder. “She was my cat.”

“He put her in everybody’s bowl,” the Corsair pointed out, unfazed. “And she wasn’t your cat. She was the ship’s cat. If anything you were her keeper. And now there’s no cat. And you’ve no worth to the ship any more, and your little hunger strike has only led you to become a thief as well. So now what am I to do with you, eh ?”


“I’m going home,” the boy declared, the steely look in his eye making any childish stamp of the foot quite superfluous. “The apple was owed me. So I’m not a thief. And I don’t want to be here any more. Cos if I stay … I’ll kill that mean fat cook. I will ! I’ll think of some .. way .. So you'd best let me go home, or you're a part to it. Anyway, my mother will give me as many cats as I want and nobody will eat them.”

“Your mother would eat you if she was hungry enough, and you know it !” The rebuke stunned the boy into silence, mostly out of shock and disbelief than any real fear that it might come to pass. “And it's a 'party to'. Not a 'part'. Just .. stop your ruddy crying. Come on,” Khalsim relented, rather than try to argue with any sort of logic. It would be a waste of both their time. And time was something they did not have. Now they had returned home, now they had made dock .. he would not get another chance like this again.



It was not until Khalsim had carried Arkadhur off the ‘Black Tide’ that the boy wondered why the man was helping him to leave. Yes, he was his father, Sal had said so. But still. That had not meant that the corsair was any much kinder to the boy at sea, than any of the crew had been. If anything, Khalsim had been the one who most often pushed him away and told him to go find a nail to poke his eye out.

“Are we going to see mother ?” he asked, perking up as one balled up hand rubbed at a wet eye.

“Sure,” the corsair agreed casting a nervous glance around them on the barren street. “Whatever keeps you quiet.”


What that meant, the child did not know, but he didn’t care either. He was going home ! He was home ! It had been less than a year since they’d been offways. Too long. He had so much to tell her, already short legs began to hasten and pull at the man who lurched like a reluctance behind him.

“Come on ! Come on !” the boy urged. As the Corsair swallowed his conscience. And picked up his pace. This would have to be accomplished quickly if at all. Above them the sky darkened, lending it's natural shroud to see the strange pair make good distance from the harbour. When the great armada of Gondor arrived and decimated the same scene they had just fled, .. they might think themselves extremely fortunate. But of course, that depends on where they ended up instead ..

Somewhere around the space of an hour later, it was the Corsair who was now dragging the small boy by one wrist to follow him, rather than the other way around. Though neither of them seemed to be keen to carry on, Khalsim’s desperation beat out the child’s exhaustion. And so they persevered. After being holed up on the ship for some months, the city now seemed to span far greater amounts of space than could rightly be possible. The streets stretched out for leagues and the buildings reared up like mountains.

The Iron House was one of the most renown buildings in Umbar for extending up so high as it also descended below ground. Though from the outside, the old building seemed no more grandiose than it’s neighbours. Save that it had no actual, immediate neighbours. The entire structure was set apart with a wide alley running on either side of it, as though all other foundations on that street had cringed away from having to touch it’s ancient walls. Moss featured like scabs to lend a disarming air about actual iron-clad walls which each stood in truth at least ten feet wide. But the more telling architecture were the building’s windows. There were none.


The steps which led up to the massive front door each came as high as the child’s knees, and he held one hand above his eyes to spy up in sight of the porch, although it did him little good. Not only was the sky wreathed in a dark gloom, but no sun would lend a more positive ambience about that door. Studded solid metal, behind the threat of an overhanging iron portcullis. There was no handle. There was only a triangle and metal bar hung to one side. Which street urchins had died by daring one another to arouse to clatter.

Khalsim all but lifted his young charge up each step, by raising his arm and dangling the meagre, squirming weight to find each new tier. There stood before the blank blackness of the closed portal, the boy stepped backwards, even unconsciously, as far as he could go, although his hand was held tight in place. And the Corsair glanced about him down each direction of the street, but did not put the metal rod to it’s alarm.


“This isn’t ..” the boy began before his speech and all attention was robbed by the slow gaping crevice which grew before them. Peering inside served no use, for it was pitch black within, but the Corsair pressed them through that gap as soon as it was wide enough to allow passage. The slow grate and groan told of the same door moving to a close behind them, even as the child twisted in the man’s grasp to see the street vanish too.

The Guard whom neither of the arrivals could have observed, calmly unhooded his lantern, and cast a muted glow across the large cold space they now could not escape. No word was spent before Khalsim threw both arms around the Guard, dropping hold of the boy, who watched behind fast blinking eyes which sought to adjust to the dull room.


“You weren’t stood out there long,” the taller, broader man sought to ascertain, and Khalsim simply embraced him. As though they were old friends and had not seen one another for the longest time. “Did anybody see ?” the lesser known man persisted until the Corsair quietened the speaker’s lips with his own.

Growing more confused and bored than ever, the child turned around in a circle where he stood and narrowed brown eyes, trying to make sense of what was happening. “Not home.” he muttered, as the truth became inescapable. And yet .. he would be wrong still. For this would be home now. For the next couple of decades to come ..


“Mind what he says and do as you’re told,” Khalsim bade the boy, once he and his clear acquaintance had ceased their whispering and gesturing between them. “They won’t think to look for you here.”

The questions mounted until there were too many for the child to put into order. Who wouldn’t look ? Who was this man ? Where were they ? What was Khal acting so scared of ? Not a one managed to come to voice before the first booms and screams rattled through the world, causing thunderous echoes to shake the metal walls. The Corsair took the boy’s hand, as an answer to all of the unspoken confusion was had conquered his small face. He thrust it into the hand of his friend, and then he turned to face the door. A tumult like a titan pounding from the outside spurred the Guard to hasten down the corridor, with the child struggling to keep up with his urgent pace. This became more and more difficult as they descended down a neverending wind of stairs. When he looked back for Khalsim, there was only shadow to be seen.


Stairs fed into long and it seemed identical corridors, all avenue-d by bricked up doors, with withered hands grasping like animated skeletons through the small holes. Wails rose in such frequency that it seemed the place was haunted. And still they walked, and still the single light which the Guard held in hand seemed as a beacon, rousing all that they passed into complaint or ghostly cheer.

When they finally stopped in front of a gated alcove, the Guard dropped his lantern to the floor, fumbled with keys until the rusty lock gave in and the barred obstacle swung open. The Guard jerked his head toward the small space which would easily house the child, as much as a small broom closet might. Small hands found the wall behind him, but backing up did not help. And he was pressed into his new ‘home’ without further explanation.


Khalsim had said to do as the man said. But Khalsim .. where had he gone ? Why had he gone ? And what was happening outside ? Was the sky falling ? It had felt like it. The strange man held up the apple which Khalsim had taken a bite out of, back on the ship, and handed it through the bars to the boy. When the bewildered child simply stared, the marred fruit thudded to the uneven floor before him. And as though that ought to answer all and any questions, the Guard went on his way. He took the lantern with him, and the darkness closed in. Nobody saw the tears that fell.

For a glimmer of a moment, he thought it might make a difference. But of course it did not last. The most determined fingers were no match for the hard stone. Just as cold perhaps, equally as wretched, but far less capable of establishing a lasting foundation. The tug of war managed to be both brief and bitter before the man dragging at the boy’s one wrist overcame the protest at the other; small digits wrenched with malice from any hope of setting roots at the stone corner they had recently turned.

The staircase, such as it was, brought the prisoner and all impetus thenafter, all too fast unto his unimpressed escort. And as the man picked himself up from the heap they had hurtled into, he aimed an instinctive cuff about the child’s head.

“What did you think you were you going to do ?” The bellow was enough to have the boy wince, visibly. “Think you could simply hold on there until for always ?”


A sharp snort hinted at amusement, and disgust. But most of all exasperation. The man wiped his mouth with the back of his free hand. It was inevitable, this; it was routine. But that did not mean it became any easier to endure. Eager then, to have it over with, the man took up the child and threw it’s meagre weight, folded at the waist, over one practiced shoulder.

There was kicking, screaming, the beating of tiny fists against his back and yowling like a beast which far belied the size of it. The noise was enough to vanquish the monotony of groans and wailing that chased their progress down into the depths. The halls, sensing a greater evil about to be done, held their breath, the shadows creeping closer like a trained crowd. Hands wrapped about bars, so sunken eyes could rise, on shaking strands of strength and recognise their own despair in the scene that played out. This was not the first time the dread tower had known such a heart-dropping sight. It would not be the last. But most of those unfortunates kept in their place would not be kept alive for long enough to see the next performance. Children were a rarity.


At the feet of the stairs, at the end of a winding corridor, the guard threw down his burden as though it were a fall of bricks. He held still on the child with a tight clutch around one ear. Twisting in a rush for sudden liberty welcomed a new octave of pain, until the man pressed down upon that tiny head, forcing it down to a slump, limbs collapsing beneath him to the floor. Suddenly silence. Sullen. Wild dark eyes scattered about the dark corridor, eager to find something . anything .. though he could not think of what and there was no time afforded him to ponder. A ring of rusted iron keys was retrieved from a string belt, and the creak of ancient hinges foreshadowed the dark room beyond. One foot kicked at the forlorn little mess on the floor, and the ear-filled hand gave little option but to follow suit.

They entered the cell together, but the man made certain to quickly distinguish between them. They had an audience after all. A scarecrow of a man was crumpled, like dirty laundry, forced to watch as the guard did his utmost to chain the child to the contralateral wall. But the shackles slid with room to spare, around both wrist and ankle, and the boy danced out of them as though it were a game. In the end, a shove, against the wall, saw an end to his caper, and as the dazed young thing stumbled down to his knees, the guard took his leave of the two of them. Without ever a parting shot or glance behind him.


An hour felt as like a year, the child picking amongst the sparse scratches of straw and cracked cobbles. But there was no entertainment here. None but the other.

“You may call me Hollin,” the older prisoner shared, haltingly, as though he had to carve the words out of his very throat. There was nothing he supposed to be lost from the admission. Perhaps though some resurrection might be gained. For conversation. Curiosity. These were gifts the Belfalasian had believed he would never experience again. And his captors would not contort him into a soul who could not usher forth friendship, perhaps comfort, to a child, of all things. They could not make him afraid of what he knew ought pose no threat. He would retain what semblance he could of himself. “But what should I call you ?” he asked, as though they were stood elsewhere. As though they were elseways.


The boy paused in his scratching, as though noting the weakness of a finger nail which might come away with no great force. He did not glance with any immediacy at the man across. Slowly he traced out the outline of a cobble with another blunted finger, before glancing at the introduction. He turned, he pulled in his limbs to sit crosslegged. He stared. He shook his head. Balled one hand into a fist and jammed it into one eye, to fight the forming of weakness that was wet there.

The man wanted to be known. The fool had offered up his name, as though there were unwritten rules that meant etiquette would be rewarded. Here ? Well .. He had thought it would take longer than that. But maybe this one would be more forthcoming than previous efforts. He hoped so. He was hungry. And the guards did not pay for nothing managed.

@Arnyn @Rillewen


The cloistered gallery was heaving, the servers grossly outnumbered by the crowd they tended. Which mattered not, for truly nobody came to the Crimson Rigging for the food. Many ordered meals with the sole intention of flinging it’s make up from their dented tin plates. Others sneaked in their own foodstuffs, and passed flasks of questionable contents, between hands, beneath the tables. And though fists drummed the long abused knives they had brought with them to serve as cutlery, mostly, it was not their bellies they looked to see satisfied. It was a very different sort of appetite that would be sated here. A want for blood, for justice, for vengeance. Or, at the very least, some lively entertainment.

Pharak had not required to fight or scrabble his way to a seat. Between his vocation and his sizeable son, they had easily encouraged the former occupants of their chosen seats, to quietly take up their filled boots and chase their snaking streams of sweat across the dirt floor, rather than stand any obstacle. Forget that the forward planning folk had arrived ridiculously early in order to seize such a position, where they could see .. everything .. They could not have known that the Burned Priest and the Corsair Captain would choose to deign this hall, and their highly prized position, with the best view, for their afternoon. One of the departing unfortunates was so concerned with low bowing an apology for any offence caused, that he did not see and backed into a small child. She had been crawling on hands and knees, seeking for dropped coin, or to sever an achilles tendon of some unsuspecting patron; who could say ? The resulting collapse of all limbs into an embarrassing heap from the clumsy collision inspired great guffaws of laughter from any who witnessed. The child swore with more colourful diction than any sailor, and the unhappy man would not realise until he was home, that he had misplaced his coin purse in the unwelcome exchange. Pharak barely noticed … any of that. His single still seeing eye was trained upon the entrance.


It was not a difficult place to enter, and all who had the freedom to do so, were admitted without charge. They would likely spend their time there, jostled and driven about by the human current of anybody not sitting down, however. Unless they had some means to make a table theirs. But all that really mattered was the view. Of the gargantuan structure set in the middle of the chamber, a high wooden stage set to look as a ship’s deck. And sprouting out of it’s epicentre was a mighty mast, not unlike a hardy tree trunk, raising high a number of great boughs, or yardarms. Heavy corded ropes were slung from idle leashes down from the vast heights, formed at every low end into a waiting noose. And in the middle of the ‘stage’ was an as yet closed trap-door, where the entertainment for the day would be marched out, for the viewing pleasure of every man, woman, or child who would dine or cheer, or fling projectiles as the condemned were hung. The criminals' last desperate dance invoking merriment and pointing fingers, to those not so numbed by the experience to even pause their conversation. Executions were conducted to the sound of much applause, before bold opportunists might dare to assault the newly dead, tearing away their clothes or any possession they might take of them, before the city guard could see them off.

The shadowed balcony that encircled the rafters was thick with a weary shift of city guards, shouldering their crossbows, or shooting any sign or trouble. Trouble of course might be only a neighbour that they recognised, with distaste. Or the fallen pride of a jilted lover. Or else simply some unnamed wastrel, who would serve for target practice. The threat of the largely unseen but undeniable watch, reminded all those below that they might leave this world before they ever left this particular establishment. Why then, would anybody risk venturing into such a haunt ? Besides emboldening their reputation, and noting the reams of gossip that roved mouth to ear all round the room.


Perhaps there was simply something about witnessing the final moments of a person’s life, that made another appreciate with more thought, every single second he or she was still alive. It certainly was not the ale which had lured most there, for that wore a still-water grey hue, and somehow managed to prove harder to swallow, than the swill charading as food. But why was Pharak Halsad, or his son, then come to this place, in this hour, of this day ? Was there a particular prisoner they would delight in seeing come to a cruel end, choking and spluttering through a seizured torment while the audience dined, and jeered ? Or was it more to do with the empty seat which the two had left between them and which nobody in their right mind had yet dared occupy ? The stare which the Blood Priest had blatantly fixed upon the entrance would suggest that he at least was waiting for someone to join them.


“Barrek” Pharak smeared a broken smile slowly across his face, upon finally observing that so-named individual. And as though he had actually heard the raspy summons, even over the uproarious din, a tall, dark haired man raised a strong arm to acknowledge his destination. Uhta tilted his head on it’s thick neck and narrowed both his button eyes. He knew for certain that he’d never seen this strange man named Barrek before now. Clearly though, his father had. And meant for it to be known now, here .. where pretty much anybody present could see and/or overhear.


** The Crimson Rigging is a setting inspired from the opening post of this thread.

@Ercassie
"Did we have to come here?" Remus muttered to the lovely-featured woman sitting next to him.

"You like gossip," Shirin declared, as if that explained everything. And, in a way, it did. "This is one of the best places to get it."

Remus grunted. They were too close to the Rigging's centerpiece, to his liking. "We could have gone to other places around the harbor. With similar results."

"None," Shirin replied, leaning toward him, "would be as efficient. And after she asked us directly, it cannot hurt to make use of all possible sources."

He raised an eyebrow at her, and his gloomy expression gave way to a little smile. "You and your efficiency. Though it's a good thing that you don't look for shortcuts in every endeavour."

Shirin smirked. "You are good at what you do. But you will get no more compliments from me."

So engrossed was Remus in the woman sitting with him, as well as equally uninterested in the other patrons of the establishment, that he only had eyes for her. Even if his ears were also listening to what was being said around him, his gaze was firmly fixed upon Shirin - which was not likely to change when the aftrnoon's entertainment would begin.

It was Shirin, who, after a time, brought a certain duo to his attention. She leaned close to his ear. "To your right," she whispered, before kissing his neck, thus giving him an excuse to cast a look thataways. "Oh," Remus answered quietly after a moment. "Surprising."

Shirin hummed below his ear, but withdrew the next moment. There was no need to give the people around them the idea they might jump each other right on the table. It probably wouldn't be the first time the Rigging provided that kind of entertainment, but Shirin had no intention of being pressured into quite such a display. No matter how good they'd look doing it. She raised her ale to him in half a toast, and put it to her lips.

"Smells like feet," she noted.

Remus blinked, and then started laughing. Shirin didn't bother hiding her smile.