Thar Shaddin

“A small family?” Blanca called from the bathroom, talking over the running water. “Oh no, that's simply not possible. We haven't had any visitors since Lord Segostro departed. The Mayor is quite insistent on keeping track of outsiders, and he hasn't breathed a word to me.”

She returned to the bedroom, frowning. “Are these friends of yours? I'm sorry, I don't mean to be so dismissive. But I can't imagine Mayor Liscaris not accounting for a visitor, let alone a whole family.”

She walked to the door, then looked back at him over her shoulder. “Lunch will be in about an hour. You will find the dining hall on the first floor, at the very end of the western wing. You can talk with the Mayor about this then. Even if they didn't stop here, he might know where they went.”

It took a lot of effort to avoid betraying his disappointment, but Cristobal managed once more to smile broadly and say "I suspect I've just been subjected to some kind of jest on the behalf of the folk in Chirivel. Some kind of 'make fun of the nobleman by spreading rumours' kind of affair. Not unheard of." He busied himself with his pack and carefully retrieved a change of clothes. No doubt the clothing on offer would be adequate, but he'd much prefer something he'd had tailored himself.

With a sense of relief, knowing he was but a long bath away from looking his normal self, Cristobal gave his pack a small vindictive nudge with his toe. Just knowing that he wouldn't have to shoulder that pack for at least several days already had the fatigued gentleman feeling a bit more chipper. Then Cristobal made the mistake of looking in a mirror. Changers mercy, he looked like he'd come out at the rough end of a three day drinking contest. His travel clothes were crumpled, stained, and likely beyond restoration once he'd finished his mission. His hair, beard, and moustache were dishevelled and messy - not to mention the drastic need to shave the rough stubble from his cheeks.

He was distracted from his musings by the cessation of sound from the bathroom's taps and the return of Blanca "Ah, fantastic. Lunch will be a powerful restorative, I think. I look forward to it."

Hardship, he'd once been told, was what gave luxury its greatest appeal. Admittedly, as a child, he hadn't quite bought the logic when it meant finishing his lessons before he could go outside. But here and now, a hot bath proved a most glorious tonic to the past couple of days of hardship. Between a bath, a shave, and a change of clothes, Cristobal was reborn to the image of nobility and dignity he went to great effort to maintain in his daily life.

When the time came, he made his way to the dining hall. And by the Changers he was looking forward to food other than dried fruit, salami, cheese, jerky, and days-old bread.

Blanca stood patiently beside the dining room's entrance, hands folded at her waist, awaiting their guest's arrival. Although she was smiling as usual, her head felt like it was being smashed between two boulders. Just as she'd expected, telling the Mayor about Cristobal had not been a pleasant experience. Listening to him raving about how everyone was conspiring against him was enough to drive anyone mad. Then there was the pot he smashed against the ground, which she had to clean up...

Once Cristobal turned the corner, she greeted him with a bow. “You look marvelous, sir. I hope you enjoyed your bath. Lunch is served,” she said, ushering him inside.

The dining room was almost as large as the entrance hall, and just as luxurious. Paintings and statues lined the walls, and the nearly room length table was carved from mahogany and decorated with floral designs. A marvelous feast was spread over the table, far more suited to a banquet than a lunch: whole lobsters, fried fish, roast beef, soup, salad – and far more. Most interesting, the table was set for far more than two people.

Sitting at the head of the table was Mayor Liscaris himself: a morbidly obese man with thinning brown hair, dressed in a midnight blue lounging robe. On seeing Cristobal he grinned and raised his ring-covered hands, beckoning him to the table. “Cristobal De Quijas! What an honor to have such an esteemed man visiting my humble little village. I am Anselmo Vici Liscaris, mayor of Los Malecón. Please, please, have a seat! You must be famished.”

Blanca was amazed at how easily Liscaris could shift between being a screaming manchild and total kiss-ass.

“Blanca, why don't you join us? You've had quite a day, yourself,” Liscaris said, smiling.

Blanca eyed him suspiciously for a moment, then smiled and nodded, taking a seat. “Thank you for your hospitality, sir.”

Famished was certainly the word for Cristobal's state of being, and he gladly took the proffered place at the table. "A pleasure, señor Liscaris. Your people have been quite hospitable to me with such short notice, and I see they must be following your fine example." A little flattery surely wouldn't go astray.

Pleasantries aside, there was a grotesque disconnect between the quantity of food on the table and the number of people present. One could almost argue the quantity and quality of the food was needlessly extravagant given the deteriorating condition of many of the town's buildings. Cristobal gestured at the empty places by way of small talk and asked "Are we to be graced with other guests for lunch? I don't at all mind if so. I know my visit here must have aroused some curiosity about me."

Liscaris laughed. “Why yes, my friend! I invited some of my colleagues for a meal before I learned of your presence. So we'll be enjoying a little extra company this afternoon."

Several maids entered through a side door and approached the table, carrying bottles of alcohol. One stopped beside the Mayor and poured him some wine, and another did the same for Cristobal. A third approached Blanca, but she politely declined.

“Please, help yourself! I’ve been looking for an occasion to have these for a while. These were a gift from a friend of mine in Darleone. They’re probably older than both of us,” he said, grinning. “Little early for drinking, I know, but I’m sure you could use some after your trip. How long had you been on the road? Blanca tells me you looked positively beaten.”

While Liscaris played the good host, Blanca sat quietly in her seat, looking aside, sipping her glass of water. She was used to seeing this side of Liscaris whenever a noble stopped by. Segostro in particular would always receive the royal treatment, if only because he was their leader’s good friend. But Liscaris’s behavior here was… different. Desperate, perhaps, but most assuredly deceptive. The invitations went out after Liscaris was told about Cristobal, not before.

But the lie wasn’t the most suspicious part. A mayor meeting with the council outside of church was rare enough, but at his manor – and over food? It was unheard of. But she had to put her discomfort aside. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if her sin of doubt impeded God’s return any further. As long as she kept her trust in the elders, everything would be fine.

Cristobal eased into the old routine of social graces like a hand in a glove "A splendid idea! Good food is always best enjoyed in good company." When more maids came in, Cristobal noticed Blanca refusing the beverage in favour of water. Curious. Was it because she was seated at a table above her station, or was the liquor suspect? Cristobal had lost more than one distant cousin to the deft hand of a poisoner, and lacked any present means of assuring his own safety. Caution, then, was the best approach.

He made his excuses jovially as he beckoned for the maid carrying the water "My friend, I do apologise. A quirk of my constitution means that wine has an unpleasant effect upon my digestion. My physician has always recommended I drink water, though it is such a drab beverage." But water's very drabness and lack of a strong odour made it easier to tell if certain common poisons had been introduced to it. "I deeply regret not being able to enjoy the fine vintage you have presented me. Especially having been on foot for three days. I mean, can you imagine it?"

Cristobal smoothly launched into the short tale, so as to gracefully deflect any chance of being pressed on the issue "I'd been assured that I'd be able to obtain a boat from Mojácar, but the residents there were adamant it was too dangerous. And I've not seen a storm at all. So naturally, given how insistent the directives given to me were, I had no choice but to make the journey by road. My family would be rather annoyed at me if I blew out their schedule by returning late, and here I was already losing a couple of days. I tell you, it's been a long time since I've been that exhausted." The nobleman chuckled "A mirror made it clear the exertion definitely did not suit me." Cristobal wasn't certain what prompted him to drop a hint that his return was expected within a certain time-frame, but the earlier sense of unease had started to return as the habits and precautions of negotiations returned to him with the smell of food and presence of more familiar surroundings.

He looked longingly at the elven wine bottle "Say, señor Liscaris: though I cannot enjoy its flavour, perhaps I can enjoy the history of how you obtained such a delightful specimen. I'm certain a bottle from Darleone of that quality has a story behind it?" It was important to get his host talking, to be able to better gauge his temperament and the subjects which he found dear to heart. The wine seemed like as good a place to start as any.

“Think nothing of it! I shouldn't have been so presumptuous to assume you were a drinking man. Though I'm happy to see you know when there's a good tale waiting to be told,” Liscaris said, his grin widening.

Blanca had been faintly paying attention to the conversation, but she jolted when Cristobal asked Liscaris the story behind the wine. Oh, no. The last thing the Mayor needed was an excuse to run his mouth about something. Like most politicians, he loved to hear himself talk. But before she could say anything, Liscaris launched into a meandering, nonsensical story about how his friend obtained the wine. The poor man had no idea what kind of boredom he'd just unleashed upon them.

But fate chose to save them before Liscaris could get too invested in his own voice. Captain Venegas stepped inside and positioned herself against the wall. “Good afternoon, Mayor Liscaris. Priestess Renata and the elders have arrived,” she said, motioning to the doorway.

An elderly woman slowly walked inside, assisted by a male aide. Blanca greatly respected the old priestess, but she couldn't get beyond how her posture made her resemble a gigantic shrimp. She was a wrinkled, white-haired woman, easily in her late nineties or early hundreds, who couldn't have been over seventy pounds. Contrasting Liscaris' fancy outfit, she wore a simple navy cloak that, much like herself, looked like it had seen better days. A procession of noblemen similar to Liscaris followed her in.

“Lady Renata!” Liscaris stood up, hastily pulling out a chair for her. “A pleasure to have you in my home. Please, please, have a seat.”

Renata sat down, her aide still at her side. “Thank you for hosting us, Anselmo,” she said. She was facing Cristobal, but her eyes were so squinted that it was hard to tell whether she was looking at him. “I welcome you to our town, Señor Quijas. I am Isabelle Valencia Renata, spiritual leader of Los Malecón. I hope you've been enjoying your stay.”

It occurred to Cristobal that he had, perhaps, given too much credit to his host the Mayor as a master of intrigues. Either the man was a brilliant actor, or he was exactly what he appeared: a buffoon given to personal over-indulgence. Cristobal nonetheless valiantly kept up with the mayor's story until they were cut short by the appearance of Captain Venegas who was maintaining a façade of non-vinegaresque civility. He smiled at the captain cheerfully before focusing his attention on the other guests.

There was a strange power dynamic here, Cristobal noted, as the mayor hastily acted to personally arrange the elderly woman's seat rather than having a servant do so. That the other 'elders' of the town filed in without introductions smacked of a servility which, like so much else in this strange town, made no immediate or obvious sense. For every familiar Corezan routine these people followed, something else was just a little bit amiss. Still, Cristobal recognised that the person in the room with the strongest influence presently was this wizened old lady, so it would be proper to respond accordingly. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance Señora Renata, as well as that of the elders." He nodded to those accompanying her "Everyone has been very hospitable, which I do appreciate, and Mayor Liscaris has made me feel quite at home."

But what in the blazes was a priestess or spiritual leader? Cristobal had never heard of such things in Corezo. There were, of course, the Changer cults - but even those recognised that the Changers were so long gone as to be mythological. But while the cultists venerated the traits attributed to those beings, they were always referred to by their names, not by some abstract term such as 'God'.

He simply couldn't fathom it. However, there was a simple way to try and remedy the lack of knowledge. "I must say, the church I saw on the way here is a most impressive building, but I confess that I am unfamiliar with your beliefs. I would not wish to, by ignorance, cause offence: perhaps you would be willing to tell me more of your role here and the ways of your faith?" Cristobal spread his palms "My own throat is ragged from the exertion of the past two days, so I am far more inclined at present to be an attentive listener, if it is no burden." As if to emphasise the point, he had a sip of his water.

“Our culture is rather atypical for Corezo, so your confusion is understandable,” Renata said, taking a wine glass and extending it for a servant to fill. Her assistant, meanwhile, began filling her plate and cutting her food into small, thin portions.

“You have surely heard mention of our God since your arrival, no? The premise of our belief is simple: Generations ago, God approached our ancestors and offered protection and prosperity in exchange for their faith. A deal was struck, and as long as they obeyed God, Los Malecon flourished. But as time went on, our ancestors became complacent and neglected God. God abandoned Los Malecon to its wickedness, and we have suffered ever since.

“Yet our faith never died. We realized the error of our ways, and now hope to atone for our failings to ensure God’s return. Los Malecón’s high priest or priestess is responsible for guiding its people along the righteous path.”

Renata paused to sip her wine. “Though even looking past our beliefs, Los Malecón has benefitted from its unified faith. We may not be thriving, but our strong community has helped us survive in the harshest times.”

Blanca sat quietly through the explanation, occasionally eating a grape from her plate. Outsiders usually asked about their religion, and that was the standard story they were given, more or less. It skimmed over a lot of the significant details, but it was essentially true. The Order controlled every aspect of their lives, and the high priest was its face among common folk like herself, leading ceremonies and offering moral guidance.

As long as they obeyed the Order, it was only a matter of time before God returned to them.

“Let’s move on, shall we?” Renata smiled. “I’m interested to know what brings you out to these parts. When I arrived, I overheard that you may be looking for someone.”

If Cristobal learned one thing from the woman's explanation, it was that the town's spiritual leader was more a politician than anything else. That had sounded more like the preamble to a mercantile negotiation that it had an actual explanation of their faith. It had been delightfully vague in every single one of its 'specific' details without seeming to be overtly misleading. The description of their faith was also utter madness, but the woman in front of him was most definitely sane, of that Cristobal was certain.

What was more, while he'd made mention of the 'family' passing through Chirivel, that had only been in the presence of Blanca and Carlitos, and in no way had he suggested that had been the cause of his visit. His discussion with the mayor when she'd arrived had focused solely on his feats of wine acquisition. That this 'Lady Renata' could lie to him so serenely gave him significant cause for caution in how he'd have to proceed. Cristobal decided to call the bluff in careful fashion with a blithe and disarming smile "Why, all we were discussing as you arrived was the history of Mayor Liscaris' most fine vintage. Business is the last thing on my mind at present. How could it be, with such a fine luncheon spread before us?" Cristobal nodded to his host.

The famished Cristobal had, in truth, been enjoying the meal - one of the other perks of being the one doing the listening rather than the talking. "You will forgive me, I am certain, if I will allow myself the time to recover from the trials of the road before I focus on my principal task. Between fatigue and the state of my throat, it would be best to handle such things on the morrow yes? After all, it is not as if I am planning to repeat that hike for at least another week. And if the good mayor tires of my prattle in that time," Cristobal took any possible edge off that statement with a self-deprecating chuckle "...or needs to house another guest, I'm not above giving custom to your town's inn. A town's prosperity brings Quijas prosperity, after all."

Either way, he'd need a quiet evening to re-evaluate his approach. These were not simple fishing folk as he'd previously assumed. He was certain now, having made his assessment of Renata, that he'd not get the truth from them if he simply asked for it nicely. He'd need to design himself a 'task' which gave him decent freedom of movement within Los Malecón.

“Regaling you with one of his stories, was he? You poor thing.” Renata laughed. “I was referring to small talk I overheard among the servants when I arrived, Señor Quijas, not whatever ‘engaging’ tale the good Mayor was inflicting on you. Gossip travels quickly around these parts, particularly when it concerns outsiders. You may wish to bear that in mind during your stay.”

Lunch continued without incident. The Mayor once again dominated the conversation with inane anecdotes, but his rambling seemed more forced than before. Renata said little else throughout the meal, and made no further attempts to get information out of Cristobal.

Through all the empty niceties and vague non-answers, one thing was clear: Neither party intended to cooperate with the other.

Once they finished, Mayor Liscaris dabbed his mouth with his napkin. “Just what I needed after such a stressful morning! Dinner will be late this evening, Señor, so feel free to enjoy yourself until then. If you’ve rested enough, might I suggest taking a tour of the town? I’m sure Miss Blanca would be happy to be your guide.”

“Hmm?” Blanca looked up from her plate. Once Liscaris had started talking again, she lost interest in the conversation. “Oh, certainly,” she said, smiling at Cristobal. “Los Malecón might not look like much, but there’s a few nice places to see.”

Calling the bluff had been valuable, and yet cause for even more concern. He had only been in Los Malecón for a very short time, and yet somehow the brief conversations he'd had with Blanca and Carlitos had reached the ears of this woman already. That was less the power of small town gossip and more the power of someone directly reporting to her. He would need to assume that any and all details given to whomever he spoke with would end up in her hands. Cristobal smiled jovially in response to Renata's advice. "Oh, I don't mind, but gossip is what it is. Let's enjoy this delightful lunch and save such conversations for the morrow."

Cristobal set his mind to the task of enjoying lunch and making a mental note of the faces of the people present at the lunch. Once lunch was concluded, he found himself agreeing with Mayor Liscaris' sentiment. A proper meal had improved his mood substantially. And yet the suggested tour of the town was a predicament. It would be valuable, but by the Changers, his feet were still very sore. At least it would keep him awake, he supposed. "A splendid idea. A chance to stroll without the weight of my pack upon my shoulders will be wonderful."

Somehow Blanca doubted Cristobal wanted to go out walking after his journey, but she knew better than to argue. The Mayor clearly wanted to discuss something with Lady Renata and the elders, so it was her responsibility to keep Cristobal occupied in the meantime. All this intrigue nonsense was outside her job description.

After making her preparations, Blanca led Cristobal outside the manor and down the front path, racking her brain for a good place to take him. Going to the church would be a bad idea, especially without Lady Renata and the elders there. Maybe one of the pubs? Oh, no. A nobleman like Cristobal wouldn’t like that. She could always take him to the docks, but standing around explaining the fishing trade would be rather boring. Really, the only “interesting sights” in Los Malecón were the church and the mayoral manor

“If I may speak frankly, Senor, I’m afraid I’m at a loss,” Blanca said as they passed the fountain and arrived at the front gate. “I’m not sure what the Mayor was thinking when he suggested giving you a tour. I doubt Lady Renata would want us wandering around the church, but I can’t think of anything else that wouldn’t bore you to tears.” She paused. “Is there anywhere you’d like to go? If you’re still exhausted, we can stop somewhere to rest."

Cristobal's own preparations had included taking a satchel containing a small packet of his trail rations, a water bottle, and his journal. Despite the large lunch, if he was going to be wandering around the miserable place all afternoon, he'd rather be prepared. His post-lunch sense of unease also translated into the physical precaution of once more concealing a dagger upon his person. Better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it.

Yet it was a very cheerful demeanour he displayed to the woman assigned to be his tour guide. "Oh come now, surely a church is not a forbidden place? Besides, the architecture looked positively fascinating from a distance. I'd much appreciate a closer look. It's very different to the current trends, you know. The new Romanesque movement, which is becoming very popular in Qadis, heavily features decorative pillars, sculptures, and bas reliefs. Lots of primary colours in bright patterns." Cristobal continued to glibly hold a constant monologue on modern architecture, ensuring that their direction of travel was distinctly church-wards, subtly checking for the signs that Blanca was reaching a state of boredom to where she'd happily accept either death or a change of topic to anything that didn't involve the difference in stonework between the Hasellian and Corezan interpretations of the New Romanesque.

Cristobal had a lot of experience in being gleefully and deliberately dull. Often times in his own duties he would be forced to share the company of his family's economic rivals whose sole interest was trying to find leverage to use in negotiations. The art of talking at length about inconsequential matters was an important one for someone in the field of economic administration.

"You know, I've just realised how rude I'm being, señora Blanca. We're halfway to our destination and I've barely given you a chance to speak - why don't you tell me a bit more about yourself. Are you in charge of the mayor's household?" She certainly didn't seem a regular servant, given she'd been asked to sit at the table with the rest of the town's influential stakeholders and had been entrusted with the task of spying on his actions.

Mentioning the church hadn’t been the best idea. Blanca had braced herself for questions about it, especially since it was an oddity in Corezo, but not a ramble about architecture. Perhaps nobles were just interested in stuff like that, strange as it seemed. Her only exposure to the aristocracy was through Lord Segostro, and she doubted he was an average case. Either way, it wasn’t any of her business.

Blanca drifted off until he changed the subject. “Yes, I’m the head maid,” she said, smiling. “But I’ve only been on the job for a few months now. My predecessor held the position for around forty years, but unfortunately she passed away. Even up to the end, she had the house running like clockwork. I hope I can be even half as good as her one day.”

Before she could get caught up thinking about her old teacher, something Cristobal had said clicked with her. Their destination? She looked around. He’d been leading them toward the church while she was distracted. Served her right for not paying attention.

Maybe she was just being overly cautious. There wasn’t a rule forbidding people from visiting the church without supervision. Outside of ceremonies everyone prayed at home, so it was never an issue. Sure, loitering around God’s home would be disrespectful, but giving a tour to someone from the Quijas family was another thing altogether. If Lady Renata didn’t want them visiting the church, she would’ve said something when she had the chance.

“I suppose there’s no harm in visiting the church, after all,” she said. “It really is beautiful, you know? And there won’t be anyone worshipping today, so you can examine its architecture to your heart’s content.”

As the two started down the road to the church, Blanca suddenly stopped and stretched her arm to hold Cristobal back. Mumbling was coming from the nearby alley, slowly growing closer. A bald, skeletal man, wearing only a dirty cloth like a diaper, shuffled into the street, his eyes on the ground and arms wrapped around his chest. Noticing them, he looked up, revealing his filthy, badly scarred face. He stared at them silently for a moment, tears welling in his eyes, before returning his gaze to his feet and walking by.

Blanca watched as he left, then sighed and lowered her arm. “I’m sorry you had to see that. There’s a few people living here who are… mentally unwell. We do what we can to help, but sadly most of them are too far gone. They aren’t dangerous, but it’s still best not to engage them.”