Elendor
A friendly cup of wine
Azradi aims to secure the loyalty of that ever-popular young scribe
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Marketplace
Game Date: 18 October 3046
IC Time: Evening
Description: Marketplace
This open air marketplace is a veritable paradise for shoppers. Sights, sounds and smells assault the senses as soon as one sets foot in the Marketplace.
Unlike the rest of Umbar, this vast acreage set aside for merchants and commerce boasts two streets running parallel from North to South, both of them three times the width of a normal road that winds through Umbar. Another equally wide street running East to West bisects the two roads, creating a grid.
Flanking the roads and neatly lined are two story buildings, with shops on the ground level and living quarters on the upper level. Merchants from generations past have kept the tradition going, and here, people will find master craftsman and women hard at work, whether it be in jewelry making, bread baking, leatherworking or rugweaving.
In the center of the wide roads that criss cross the Marketplace are the small individual stands, tightly crammed together. Merchants who sell their goods in these stands tend to cater to the every day shoppers by selling fresh fruits, vegetables, breads, cheeses and meats, along with baubles, household goods, tools and cheap, ready-made clothes. Each stand is shaded with its own canopy, and often decorated with colorful and enticing banners and signs.
At the bottom of the social order of merchants are the peddlers who hawk their goods on carts, weaving through the throngs of shoppers, offering the best deal in the Marketplace.
In the center of the grid is a stage where slaves are auctioned. When the stage is not being used to sell slaves, local artists perform for the enjoyment of the shoppers.
Obvious exits:
Paij Brother's Imports, Madame Fandango's, Slave Pen, and Square of Judgement
[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:
Daytime on Trewsday, Day 18 of October.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.
Real time is: 14:34:28 MDT on Tue Apr 28 2009.
IC year: 3046
[Azradi(#20135)]
It is late in the day, the sun light slants from the west at a sharp angle, setting the Market into a pattern of shadows and bright patches of reddish light. Though many merchants have begun to pack up, those that sell food - whether prepared or raw - are experiencing a brisk bit of business. One enterprising vendor has set up an open grill and space for tables and chairs covered by a canopy. A mixture of vegetables, meat and aromatic spices are fried on a heavy iron sheet and served to customers in a dark brown pocket bread.
Azradi sits at one of the small tables alone. She is dressed this day, not in her usual corsair attire, but in a loose flowing silk gown of red and gold. Behind her stand two Farside guards. A bottle of wine and two cups sit on the rough-hewn table before her.
Amidst the throng weaves the inconspicuous figure of the young scribe Barzhil bin Hilam - straight and slender as a reed, he seems to be able to squeeze through the narrowest of gaps in the eddying mass of people. He pauses to cast a casual glance at the leatherworker packing up his display, shakes his head at a hawker's offer of ripe fruit: "Over-ripe, me senses tell me. I fear my superiors would never forgive me if a trip to the latrines took precedence over a meeting with the-" He breaks off, having espied Azradi, and hurries toward her.
"Ah, there you are, Fleet Master!" He bows from the waist, deeply, as he approaches her table. "Is it not a most pleasant evening?" He nods toward the setting sun, then swallows, once, his adam's apple bobbing.
[Azradi(#20135)]
Greeting Barzhil with a bright smile, Azradi gestures to the empty seat before her. "It is a beautiful evening indeed, young scribe. Please take a seat."
She reaches for the bottle of wine, "Would you care for a cup?"
"The Fleet Master is most kind." Barzhil essays a polite smile that does not quite reach his eyes. Carefully, he sits down and folds his hands in his lap after flicking a speck of dust from his outer robe. "I received a message that you wished to meet me in person?" He lets the words trail off with a rising inflection, then lifts his gaze from his hands to focus instead on the table.
[Azradi(#20135)]
"I did," Azradi confirms, pouring wine into both earthen cups. "You have been creating quite the stir lately. I hear that some high-ranking members of Black Tower have hired you for certain tasks?"
"Imagine my surprise when I heard that I disapproved of this arrangement and was in fact, hostile to Black - not to mention disloyal to the Eye."
Barzhil's gaze lifts further, past red and gold silk, to focus instead on Azradi's face. He manages not to swallow this time, but his fingers are still clasped round each other and are slowly whitening. "If you disapprove of this arrangement, then I am truly saddened, Fleet Master," comes his response in a dry and dusty tenor. "But I wonder if there may not have been some misunderstanding? If I carry out my profession rightly and with skill, it is to the honour and glory of both Farside and the Eye. But to do that, one must have a wide range of clients, from all Towers."
[Azradi(#20135)]
"I do not blame you for this situation," Azradi assures, smiling at the young man. "You have every right to ply your trade with any client as long as it does not interfere with your oath of loyalty to Lord Farside."
"But the Steward Uzay has made this into something more and I, in turn, have chosen to use it to send Black a message."
The Farside lady pushes the cup across the table to the scribe. "What I want from you is to hear your side of things and then perhaps to offer you advice. So please, enlighten me as to the nature of this transaction and what duties and expectations it carries."
The young scribe blinks at the dazzling smile. Dutifully, he takes the cup that is pushed toward him, and turns it absently between his fingers as he begins to speak. He does not, as yet, drink. "The nature of the transaction ... The Steward of Black, Uzay, had announced that he sought the services of a scribe and accountant, and I applied for the position thus advertized. He was satisfied with my references - at least, I trust it is so! -" here he smiles thinly, "and I agreed to carry out some transcription and a little accounting work for him. The details of are, course, confidential," he coughs discreetly, "but as you know Black's former leader made a rather hasty. Under conditions such as these, certain .. irregularities in book-keeping are to be expected."
[Azradi(#20135)]
"We will not ask you to break that confidentiality," the Farside lady replies soberly, "unless of course it concerns Farside - which is unlikely."
Azradi pauses to sip her wine, gazing at the young man over the rim of the cup. "The Black Steward mentioned another task, one that I find quite puzzling. You are to teach our Gondorian hostage Hardaic on his behalf?"
At Azradi's statement, Barzhil seems to relax slightly, for he nods at the words and picks up his wine cup. "Yes. It does seem most appropriate that the girl first be taught by one of her own Tower - or rather the Tower of those who ..ahem, have custody of her." He carefully avoids the use of that uncivilized word 'captors'. "To that end I have already approached our ..guest."
This said, he places the cup to his lips and sips lightly.
[Azradi(#20135)]
"Steward Uzay," Azradi begins, appearing to choose her words with care, "asked my brother for permission to visit the girl. He wished to teach her something of our language and culture. However, he appears to have a bit more in mind than he admitted to Lord Alphros. He is a bit...over zealous where his faith is concerned and his plans in that realm could render her useless to our aims. If so, we will have to kill her."
"In addition, his insulting manner towards me has made both myself and Lord Farside less inclined to grant him access to her."
A warm breeze blows a stray strand of hair into the lady's face and she absently raises her hand to brush it away. "With that in mind, it would be best if you consider yourself under our employment in this task. We will compensate you at the same rate Uzay offered."
Barzhil's cup is swiftly lowered. "I'm sorry?" Polite query is on his sharp features as he looks to Azradi, lines appearing on his hereto smooth brow. "I'm afraid I do not understand."
His face remains turned toward the Fleet Master, but his expression grows abstracted - probably he does not even notice that straying hair pushed neatly back into place. "Are there any particular areas of speech you would like me to focus on? What will be her duties here in Umbar?"
[Azradi(#20135)]
"She has no duties in Umbar," Azradi replies blandly. "She is an insurance against another's loyalty and a tool against Gondor. Teach her our language, maybe something about the daily customs of the city - nothing more."
"If you wish," she adds, smiling,"teach her about the expanded opportunities for the women of our land. That appears to interest her. I have already begun to train her in combat."
"Do you anticipate a problem with Uzay if no longer carry out this particular duty on his behalf?"
Azradi's smile is met by an uncertain frown from the young man sitting opposite her. He takes a quick gulp of wine, setting his adam's apple bobbing. "Ah ... perhaps I am not the most appropriate person to teach her on the subject of women? As a scholar, I fear I know little of ..ahem, the fairer sex." Brown cheeks become a little darker almost, one might say that he is blushing. "Perhaps the guard she has formed some attachment with - Alimah, I think it was? Hmm, did you wish me to teach her the Haradaic terms for weaponplay? Or might that be a little unwise?"
He takes a couple of long breaths to calm himself, then turns to the other topic. "I must confess I cannot quite see what difference a change in paymasters will make. The duty is carried out, my strivings are remunerated and the girl learns our tongue. Would it not be to Farside's gain to let Black Tower bear the - admittedly slight - cost?"
[Azradi(#20135)]
"The paymaster determines the services of the payee," Azradi explains, suppressing a smile at the young man's discomfort. "And as I said, Uzay misrepresented some of his aims. We believe it is no longer Black's business to instruct our 'guest'."
"If it matters little to you who the paymaster is, then it should matter little that Farside becomes yours - we are your Tower after all, yes?."
"But of course!" Barzhil exclaims at that final query. "And in my instruction I will endeavour to serve Farside to the best of my ablity. What do you wish the Gondorian told concerning the Eye, Fleet Master? She has already expressed interest ..."
[Azradi(#20135)]
"Leave religious instruction to Lord Alphros and I," Azradi replies, smiling again. "Afterall, her hosts cannot leave all duties to others can they?"
"There is one more matter I wish to discuss: Loyalty. These current misunderstandings between Farside and Black came about because Lady Mirag tried to take the service of one of our sworn corsairs. I refused to release her from her oath. Such things are sacred and not lightly discarded - to swear fealty to second lord while still sworn to the first is treason and punishable by death."
"The Old Ways must be restored. But remember that such oaths go both ways. We are dedicated to protect you and provide you with justice should you need it. If you are asked to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or appears to be a conflict of interest to your oath, I encourage you to come speak to my brother or myself. We will make sure that you are treated right and that no smear of treason stains you."
"Ahh, then you will be imparting the teachings of the Eye to the girl yourself?" Barzhil murmurs. "She should consider herself fortunate to have such a diligent ..mentor." Returning Azradi's smile with one of his own, the scribe raises his cup to his lips.
When it is lowered, the puzzlement of earlier is once again writ on his youthful brow. "The Old Ways?" he repeats. But then his face clears, puzzlement replaced by concern. "Surely you do not think that Black Tower has laid claim to my loyalty? I assure you, no such thing has happened! Both the Steward and the Regent herself, when I chanced to meet her, have been models of etiquette. You can put your mind at rest on that concern, Fleet Master."
[Azradi(#20135)]
"The Old Ways of the Tower Lords," Azradi explains. "Once sworn, people are not free to come and go at will."
The lady leans forward earnestly, the scent of sandalwood wafting with her. Her expression is kind, apparently genuinely so. "I want to repeat that I find nothing wrong in your actions. You are free to seek clients where you will. I do not question your loyalty at all - I would just hate to see to harm come to you on the dangerous shoals of politics."
She leans back and smiles, looking about the market. "It is kind of you to ask, but I have need of nothing here. Most of what is new and interesting was sold by Farside. I caught quite the fat merchant ship a few days back. Most of the goods still lay warehouse. There were quite a few Gondorian oil lamps of exquisite workmanship. Would you care for one? You are a Farsider after all, and entitled to some of our bounty. I bet you are a diligent young man who works far into the night. I can have it sent to your chambers."
Barzhil blinks as Azradi leans towards him, and a slightly dazed look appears on his face. "I - that is a very kind offer, my Lady," he mumbles, not even seeming to notice that he has elevated the woman above Fleetmaster.
But then a shake of the head, a final sip of wine and he is back to his usual composed self. "To shed light on complex matters is always much appreciated!" He gives a thin little smile. "I congratulate you on your prize. Farside profits from its Fleet Master's diligence! Once again, I thank you, Fleet Master, and I bid you a good eve." Standing, he bows from the waist just as he had when he arrived and goes on his way.
One thing - despite the cool of the evening, there is a faint sheen of sweat on the young man's brow.
This open air marketplace is a veritable paradise for shoppers. Sights, sounds and smells assault the senses as soon as one sets foot in the Marketplace.
Unlike the rest of Umbar, this vast acreage set aside for merchants and commerce boasts two streets running parallel from North to South, both of them three times the width of a normal road that winds through Umbar. Another equally wide street running East to West bisects the two roads, creating a grid.
Flanking the roads and neatly lined are two story buildings, with shops on the ground level and living quarters on the upper level. Merchants from generations past have kept the tradition going, and here, people will find master craftsman and women hard at work, whether it be in jewelry making, bread baking, leatherworking or rugweaving.
In the center of the wide roads that criss cross the Marketplace are the small individual stands, tightly crammed together. Merchants who sell their goods in these stands tend to cater to the every day shoppers by selling fresh fruits, vegetables, breads, cheeses and meats, along with baubles, household goods, tools and cheap, ready-made clothes. Each stand is shaded with its own canopy, and often decorated with colorful and enticing banners and signs.
At the bottom of the social order of merchants are the peddlers who hawk their goods on carts, weaving through the throngs of shoppers, offering the best deal in the Marketplace.
In the center of the grid is a stage where slaves are auctioned. When the stage is not being used to sell slaves, local artists perform for the enjoyment of the shoppers.
Obvious exits:
Paij Brother's Imports, Madame Fandango's, Slave Pen, and Square of Judgement
[+TIME] Middle-earth time is:
Daytime on Trewsday, Day 18 of October.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.
Real time is: 14:34:28 MDT on Tue Apr 28 2009.
IC year: 3046
[Azradi(#20135)]
It is late in the day, the sun light slants from the west at a sharp angle, setting the Market into a pattern of shadows and bright patches of reddish light. Though many merchants have begun to pack up, those that sell food - whether prepared or raw - are experiencing a brisk bit of business. One enterprising vendor has set up an open grill and space for tables and chairs covered by a canopy. A mixture of vegetables, meat and aromatic spices are fried on a heavy iron sheet and served to customers in a dark brown pocket bread.
Azradi sits at one of the small tables alone. She is dressed this day, not in her usual corsair attire, but in a loose flowing silk gown of red and gold. Behind her stand two Farside guards. A bottle of wine and two cups sit on the rough-hewn table before her.
Amidst the throng weaves the inconspicuous figure of the young scribe Barzhil bin Hilam - straight and slender as a reed, he seems to be able to squeeze through the narrowest of gaps in the eddying mass of people. He pauses to cast a casual glance at the leatherworker packing up his display, shakes his head at a hawker's offer of ripe fruit: "Over-ripe, me senses tell me. I fear my superiors would never forgive me if a trip to the latrines took precedence over a meeting with the-" He breaks off, having espied Azradi, and hurries toward her.
"Ah, there you are, Fleet Master!" He bows from the waist, deeply, as he approaches her table. "Is it not a most pleasant evening?" He nods toward the setting sun, then swallows, once, his adam's apple bobbing.
[Azradi(#20135)]
Greeting Barzhil with a bright smile, Azradi gestures to the empty seat before her. "It is a beautiful evening indeed, young scribe. Please take a seat."
She reaches for the bottle of wine, "Would you care for a cup?"
"The Fleet Master is most kind." Barzhil essays a polite smile that does not quite reach his eyes. Carefully, he sits down and folds his hands in his lap after flicking a speck of dust from his outer robe. "I received a message that you wished to meet me in person?" He lets the words trail off with a rising inflection, then lifts his gaze from his hands to focus instead on the table.
[Azradi(#20135)]
"I did," Azradi confirms, pouring wine into both earthen cups. "You have been creating quite the stir lately. I hear that some high-ranking members of Black Tower have hired you for certain tasks?"
"Imagine my surprise when I heard that I disapproved of this arrangement and was in fact, hostile to Black - not to mention disloyal to the Eye."
Barzhil's gaze lifts further, past red and gold silk, to focus instead on Azradi's face. He manages not to swallow this time, but his fingers are still clasped round each other and are slowly whitening. "If you disapprove of this arrangement, then I am truly saddened, Fleet Master," comes his response in a dry and dusty tenor. "But I wonder if there may not have been some misunderstanding? If I carry out my profession rightly and with skill, it is to the honour and glory of both Farside and the Eye. But to do that, one must have a wide range of clients, from all Towers."
[Azradi(#20135)]
"I do not blame you for this situation," Azradi assures, smiling at the young man. "You have every right to ply your trade with any client as long as it does not interfere with your oath of loyalty to Lord Farside."
"But the Steward Uzay has made this into something more and I, in turn, have chosen to use it to send Black a message."
The Farside lady pushes the cup across the table to the scribe. "What I want from you is to hear your side of things and then perhaps to offer you advice. So please, enlighten me as to the nature of this transaction and what duties and expectations it carries."
The young scribe blinks at the dazzling smile. Dutifully, he takes the cup that is pushed toward him, and turns it absently between his fingers as he begins to speak. He does not, as yet, drink. "The nature of the transaction ... The Steward of Black, Uzay, had announced that he sought the services of a scribe and accountant, and I applied for the position thus advertized. He was satisfied with my references - at least, I trust it is so! -" here he smiles thinly, "and I agreed to carry out some transcription and a little accounting work for him. The details of are, course, confidential," he coughs discreetly, "but as you know Black's former leader made a rather hasty. Under conditions such as these, certain .. irregularities in book-keeping are to be expected."
[Azradi(#20135)]
"We will not ask you to break that confidentiality," the Farside lady replies soberly, "unless of course it concerns Farside - which is unlikely."
Azradi pauses to sip her wine, gazing at the young man over the rim of the cup. "The Black Steward mentioned another task, one that I find quite puzzling. You are to teach our Gondorian hostage Hardaic on his behalf?"
At Azradi's statement, Barzhil seems to relax slightly, for he nods at the words and picks up his wine cup. "Yes. It does seem most appropriate that the girl first be taught by one of her own Tower - or rather the Tower of those who ..ahem, have custody of her." He carefully avoids the use of that uncivilized word 'captors'. "To that end I have already approached our ..guest."
This said, he places the cup to his lips and sips lightly.
[Azradi(#20135)]
"Steward Uzay," Azradi begins, appearing to choose her words with care, "asked my brother for permission to visit the girl. He wished to teach her something of our language and culture. However, he appears to have a bit more in mind than he admitted to Lord Alphros. He is a bit...over zealous where his faith is concerned and his plans in that realm could render her useless to our aims. If so, we will have to kill her."
"In addition, his insulting manner towards me has made both myself and Lord Farside less inclined to grant him access to her."
A warm breeze blows a stray strand of hair into the lady's face and she absently raises her hand to brush it away. "With that in mind, it would be best if you consider yourself under our employment in this task. We will compensate you at the same rate Uzay offered."
Barzhil's cup is swiftly lowered. "I'm sorry?" Polite query is on his sharp features as he looks to Azradi, lines appearing on his hereto smooth brow. "I'm afraid I do not understand."
His face remains turned toward the Fleet Master, but his expression grows abstracted - probably he does not even notice that straying hair pushed neatly back into place. "Are there any particular areas of speech you would like me to focus on? What will be her duties here in Umbar?"
[Azradi(#20135)]
"She has no duties in Umbar," Azradi replies blandly. "She is an insurance against another's loyalty and a tool against Gondor. Teach her our language, maybe something about the daily customs of the city - nothing more."
"If you wish," she adds, smiling,"teach her about the expanded opportunities for the women of our land. That appears to interest her. I have already begun to train her in combat."
"Do you anticipate a problem with Uzay if no longer carry out this particular duty on his behalf?"
Azradi's smile is met by an uncertain frown from the young man sitting opposite her. He takes a quick gulp of wine, setting his adam's apple bobbing. "Ah ... perhaps I am not the most appropriate person to teach her on the subject of women? As a scholar, I fear I know little of ..ahem, the fairer sex." Brown cheeks become a little darker almost, one might say that he is blushing. "Perhaps the guard she has formed some attachment with - Alimah, I think it was? Hmm, did you wish me to teach her the Haradaic terms for weaponplay? Or might that be a little unwise?"
He takes a couple of long breaths to calm himself, then turns to the other topic. "I must confess I cannot quite see what difference a change in paymasters will make. The duty is carried out, my strivings are remunerated and the girl learns our tongue. Would it not be to Farside's gain to let Black Tower bear the - admittedly slight - cost?"
[Azradi(#20135)]
"The paymaster determines the services of the payee," Azradi explains, suppressing a smile at the young man's discomfort. "And as I said, Uzay misrepresented some of his aims. We believe it is no longer Black's business to instruct our 'guest'."
"If it matters little to you who the paymaster is, then it should matter little that Farside becomes yours - we are your Tower after all, yes?."
"But of course!" Barzhil exclaims at that final query. "And in my instruction I will endeavour to serve Farside to the best of my ablity. What do you wish the Gondorian told concerning the Eye, Fleet Master? She has already expressed interest ..."
[Azradi(#20135)]
"Leave religious instruction to Lord Alphros and I," Azradi replies, smiling again. "Afterall, her hosts cannot leave all duties to others can they?"
"There is one more matter I wish to discuss: Loyalty. These current misunderstandings between Farside and Black came about because Lady Mirag tried to take the service of one of our sworn corsairs. I refused to release her from her oath. Such things are sacred and not lightly discarded - to swear fealty to second lord while still sworn to the first is treason and punishable by death."
"The Old Ways must be restored. But remember that such oaths go both ways. We are dedicated to protect you and provide you with justice should you need it. If you are asked to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or appears to be a conflict of interest to your oath, I encourage you to come speak to my brother or myself. We will make sure that you are treated right and that no smear of treason stains you."
"Ahh, then you will be imparting the teachings of the Eye to the girl yourself?" Barzhil murmurs. "She should consider herself fortunate to have such a diligent ..mentor." Returning Azradi's smile with one of his own, the scribe raises his cup to his lips.
When it is lowered, the puzzlement of earlier is once again writ on his youthful brow. "The Old Ways?" he repeats. But then his face clears, puzzlement replaced by concern. "Surely you do not think that Black Tower has laid claim to my loyalty? I assure you, no such thing has happened! Both the Steward and the Regent herself, when I chanced to meet her, have been models of etiquette. You can put your mind at rest on that concern, Fleet Master."
[Azradi(#20135)]
"The Old Ways of the Tower Lords," Azradi explains. "Once sworn, people are not free to come and go at will."
The lady leans forward earnestly, the scent of sandalwood wafting with her. Her expression is kind, apparently genuinely so. "I want to repeat that I find nothing wrong in your actions. You are free to seek clients where you will. I do not question your loyalty at all - I would just hate to see to harm come to you on the dangerous shoals of politics."
She leans back and smiles, looking about the market. "It is kind of you to ask, but I have need of nothing here. Most of what is new and interesting was sold by Farside. I caught quite the fat merchant ship a few days back. Most of the goods still lay warehouse. There were quite a few Gondorian oil lamps of exquisite workmanship. Would you care for one? You are a Farsider after all, and entitled to some of our bounty. I bet you are a diligent young man who works far into the night. I can have it sent to your chambers."
Barzhil blinks as Azradi leans towards him, and a slightly dazed look appears on his face. "I - that is a very kind offer, my Lady," he mumbles, not even seeming to notice that he has elevated the woman above Fleetmaster.
But then a shake of the head, a final sip of wine and he is back to his usual composed self. "To shed light on complex matters is always much appreciated!" He gives a thin little smile. "I congratulate you on your prize. Farside profits from its Fleet Master's diligence! Once again, I thank you, Fleet Master, and I bid you a good eve." Standing, he bows from the waist just as he had when he arrived and goes on his way.
One thing - despite the cool of the evening, there is a faint sheen of sweat on the young man's brow.
Players: Azradi, Barzhil
Located in: Haradrim
