Chapter 2: Lovers and a Merchant

Lovers

Peace truly came, but for now one person, the current hero of this part of the story, wasn’t at peace. That person sat alone, on the futon, cross-legged in the elegant room.

Thoughts raced through Lady Amalia’s ever working mind. Constant ideas of greatness flooded her every waking moment, even more she liked that, that grand feeling of satisfaction. Detail plans, every step precise, every move calculated, without flaw. If only she had courage to do it. She wasn’t a brave woman, and yet again depending from what angle looked, she had a certain type of courage.

There is no doubt that she is a pretty woman with diamond-shaped face, full lips, a straight perfect nose, deep sapphire eyes. Her long raven hair fell in waves down her richly decorated robes. A large crest, a jade dragon and the symbol of yin and yang behind, was proudly placed on her ornate golden belt. She was more than proud of the crest.

She had two options that appeared to be a plan. The first one, was an easy task, to win the heart of Lady Chun. The second, a hard task, to win the heart of Captain Cong.

At that very moment she decided to try both options. There was nothing to lose.

Lady Chun was a woman that had the hedonist pleasure to experiment the feelings of the people around her. And as such, enjoyed the company of both sexes. She was much easier that the captain.

Captain Cong was strong, keen, quiet, defensive man that conducted his duties with the upmost care, and as such steadily climbed the ladder. But, like everyone else, he fell under he charms.  

Merchant

I

That morning, a tall man with a stern face walked through the crowd of people that had no reason to hurry anywhere, they walked slowly and they were enjoying themselves to the fullness, looking at every possible store, not minding if it was opened or not. The marketplace, to be precise, the bazaar was full of merchants, bankers and craftsmen that presented their shiny wears. Knowing that there was no way for them to survive on their own, the merchants united to form a network, so did the bankers and craftsmen. With their union the first greater guilds appeared on left side of the Pontar Valley. Sometimes an adventurer or two appeared in town, stayed for a day or two and continued on their way.

“Come, honored quests!” shouted the fat merchant while the sweat ran down his plumb cheeks onto his already soaked light green tunic. “Buy my wares! Nowhere on this side of the Pontar Valley, will you find this quality! I assure you!” He smiled, revealing a full row of small white teeth. His hands, moving up and down, made strange patterns in the air. He put on his best poker face for customers. One thing echoed in his mind, the first half of his wares were of lower quality than the rest, but who knew that, nothing that a few honeyed words couldn’t fix. He shrug that thought, returned it to some other part of his mind, killed it. The most important thing was profit, who could blame him; he needs to make a living too. It’s not his fault that the quality of wares is different, he didn’t make them. He’s only the seller. The goods came from every larger place in the Pontar Valley, the standards variate from place to place. There is no set standard. Anyone with a large space can make any kind of goods.  

A customer appeared, glanced at his wares. The richly dresser man hesitated to buy anything, if it were to him, he wouldn’t buy anything but his wife was different type of a person. He needs to buy something and fast or else… he didn’t like the sound of that. His gaze went from row to row, until it stopped on a small ornate lamp.

“I see you have taste,” the merchant said.

“I do,” the man replied. He was restrained.

“It’s one of my best lamps.”

“Is it?” the man lifted his eyebrow.

“It is,” the merchant knew the truth; “it came from Waldir.”

“That much north, are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll buy it then. How much are you asking?”

“Today we’re having a discount, ten silver pieces.”

“It isn’t much for a lamp. We have a deal. ”

His arm entered one of his many pocket, took out the silver pieces and gave them to the merchant without a second of thought.

“Pleasure doing business, come again.”

The man left.

 The banker smoothed his long thick mustache. His face was bloated. “Get your loans here!” he shouted as loud as he could. “Get your loans here! You won’t find better on this side of Pontar.” He waited, leaned on the bright green fence. A woman came, slowly lifted her head from her scarf and continued down the road. The banker continued to wait.  The day has just started. There will be a customer or two. At that very moment, an elderly woman approached his stand.

“Need a loan?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes,” the woman replied.

“How much do you need?”

“One hundred and thirteen silver pieces. How much is the tax rate and interest today?”

“They change daily, on today’s market value or yesterdays, you choice?”

 The woman stooped.

The man waited.

“Today’s,” she said after a pause.

“The tax rate and interest have risen since yesterday.”

“How much have they risen?”

“Three percent, to be precise, it might change at noon.”

“Interest is 12, still better than in most places. I must returned 145, 6 silver pieces, not counting tax rates and the cost of transporting the coins, the transfer fee when the king paid us, the silver tax, and the cost of processing the contract.”

“True.”

“It all sums up to three hundred silver pieces.”

“Will you accept?”

“I have nothing else to do. We have a deal.”

The banker counted the coins and handed them to the woman.

The craftsmen stood and waited for the costumers to come to them, most of them were working.

The stern man glanced at the craftsmen and continued through a dark narrow alleyway. He stopped in front of large house decorated with signs that read: Information, star reading, fortune telling and more. They were done in a strange calligraphic style. He knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again. No answer. He was about to leave, then he heard footsteps on the other side of the door.

“I’m coming,” a voice said. “Wait.”

The old wooden door opened with a loud shrieking sound. On the other side stood a figure dressed in black. His long mustache hang pass his chin line, touching almost his collar.

“Enter; maybe I have what you seek?”

“Maybe, we shall see.”

“Sit, where ever you like.”

“I’m in a hurry.”

“There is always time.”

The man sat.

“May interest you in a rug,” the diviner said.

“Rug?” the man asked.

“Yes, I sell everything.”

“I need information.”

“What type of information?”

“I seek locations.”

 “I know what you seek.”

“You do? How is that possible?”

“I’m a diviner and a hydromancer. I saw it in the water.”

“Tell me, where I must go.”

“Go across the cold mountain river that snakes its way through the shear mountain sides that dominate the picturesque landscape and continue yonder, above the dwarf lords in the their halls of gold where no man or elf dwell, through the kingdoms of man you must walk in order to find what you seek.”

The man rested and left.

II

The diviner sat in his high chair, his hands moved over his crystal ball. He saw Gelsteran. The knight Gelsteran, to be precise, but none the less it was the same Gelsteran.

“I told you that you will find what you seek if you went across mountains and streams. Rare are those that listen to my words of advice and divination. You were the lucky one, with my help, of course. The road that you went would lead you nowhere, only to defeat. That what you searched for doesn’t exist for the last three hundred years or maybe it never existed in the first place. I altered your fate a bit. I hope you will understand one day.”

The outside was quiet. A knock broke the silence.

“Who is it?”

Silence everywhere.

“Nothing important or so it seems.”

Somebody knocked on the door, again.

“Who is it?”

“King Hirtan of Jarren,” a voice said on the other side.

“What do you want?” the diviner replied.

“Guidance...”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“You may enter, the rest wait.”

King Hirtan entered in all his majestic presence. He found a place to sit.

“What type of guidance do you need?”

“In every know way.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“It’s hard for me to confess, but yes.”

“Let’s start at the beginning.”

“Aye. A war is coming with Rutilo.”

“Don’t make the first move; they are known to be old liars.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Beware of them.”

“Carefully noted, continue.”

“I hope for you sake.”

“Don’t you worry about that. There are a lot more things that I must ask.”

“Ask then.”

III

The diviner packed his things, he was ready to leave.

So many places to see and visit, he thought, so many. A man doesn’t know where to start, so many choices, so many options. Choices... the hardest thing to do right... You can choose one place or the other, one city or the other and still you are forsaking one place or the other. How many right choices can a man make? I wonder, ten or more choices, one or two choices, a bunch of them, maybe a whole lot of them, all of them? It depends, most on his inner self. My inner self is telling me to leave this place, there nothing else for me to do here.

He turned, looked at the bazaar one more time and continued down the dusty old road into the sunset.

My work is done, it’s all up to them now.