“Welcome to your new home,” said Deth from Above from the Skull Squadron stable, as he opened the door to My-re of the Health Alteration Squad’s new gladiatorial stable dwelling.
My-re scanned the immense room. A short flight of stairs led up to the rectangular first floor of the two-story dwelling extending a great length with wooded supporting pillars decorated with sheer, white drapes. Desert plants stood in front of each. Plush chairs in groupings of three to four were scattered around the area. In the center of the sand colored room was a large, set tabletop made from ancient oak with numerous cushioned chairs around it and made of the same material. On either side of the table, was a large basin of water bubbling over with the excess falling into a pool of clear water. Stairs let to a curved balcony’s, second floor with numerous doors. Weapons and shields, adorned with the emblem of a gauntlet clenching a skull, decorated the walls along with paintings depicting gladiators in combat. The ceiling opened up to a sunny sky with an awning drawn back with a mechanism to close it in the event of inclement weather.
As My-re stepped in, Deth began to remove his boots and said, “Sandals please.” My-re saw to the side a crisscross wooden framework where shoes could be placed. The diamond shaped sectionals were all empty except for a one set of black boots. General Pol grumbled and removed his footwear.
Placing her sandals in a cubbyhole the sandstone tile felt cool to her feet. Then the aroma of cooking meat and baking bread wafted into her nostrils. My-re’s stomach grumbled in response. From the far side of the room a man emerged with food and appeared to be a veteran warrior. He sported a head of full, pitch-black hair and a neatly trimmed beard. As he approached, though his expression was stern, his deep blue eyes gleamed with the spirit of youth, more befitting a boy than a man.
Deth began, “My-re, General Pol, this is Lord Protector—“
“Corg!” My-re interrupted him. She ran to him, her feet slapping against the tile and echoed across the room.
Corg barely had time to set down a tray filled with a feast of various bread, meats, cooked eggs, and spicy potatoes, before she wrapped her arms around him. She squeezed as tight as she could and almost causing both of them to stumble.
“Well that’s a welcome I wasn’t expecting,” Corg said.
My-re pulled away and slapped him hard on the arm. “Yeah, I was a little upset you dumped me off at Valamantis to travel to the Isle of the Eye without you.”
“I’m not sure dumped is the correct term, but I had unfinished business in Mordant with that Rirorni. The safest place for you was back in Valamantis under the protection of Lord Garlor Shanmarrik. I knew he’d ensure you’d get to the Isle of the Eye safely. Speaking of Rirorni…” Corg’s voice trailed off looking around My-re towards Pol.
Deth approached with General Pol following. “This is General Pol. It’s good to see you again Corg. I see our manager Grimwood has been keeping you busy of late. Your presence in the Primus arena has been sorely missed.”
“Yes, an absence unwanted,” Corg replied then turned to General Pol and said in the Rirorni native language of Rathiri. “Greetings General Pol and welcome to the Isle of the Eye.”
“At last, someone of class and refinement to converse with,” Pol said in Rathiri. When My-re turned towards him scowling, Pol added, “Present company notwithstanding.”
“Pardon my tongue General Pol, my Rathiri language is small with limits to greetings, farewells, and insults,” Corg said in broken Rathiri then winked to My-re.
General Pol huffed, grabbed a plate from the immense table, and hastily began to fill it from the tray Corg brought. Pol spilled several pieces of bacon, eggs, and potatoes to the tabletop.
My-re snorted in disgust, which caught his attention. When her eyes went to the food slopped on the table and back to him, he used his hands to scoop them onto his plate, and then raised it to Corg in thanks.
Deth said, “Well, in all my dealings with Rirorni, table manners have never been their strong suit.”
Yes, eat up, before everything gets cold,” Corg said clapping his hands together.
Deth added, “At least this one doesn’t smell like he’s been living in a stable with his horse for his entire life.”
General Pol looked up then glanced at her.
My-re ignored providing a translation, fixed herself a plate, sat, and asked, “Spymaster Timshard mention that Lord Protectors are granted title to land?”
Corg said, “After you have eaten your fill, I’ll show you upstairs to your uh…land, well actually quarters.”
“Quarters?”
“They are quite large,” Deth added.
“I always had the impression that ‘land’ would have included acreage,” My-re replied.
“I never thought of you as a farmer,” Corg said.
“I’m not, but having land doesn’t always mean I need to farm,” My-re said.
“Well, when you think about it, we are on an island with, at any given time, over a thousand Lord Protectors. If Lady Greywand gave each one, say ten acres, then logistically she’d have to think about draining the Lake of Mists. Let me tell you, the creatures in there wouldn’t thank her kindly for that,” Corg said.
“Quarters just seems…small.”
“Think about it this way. You are an island, with limited space, surrounded by an almost impregnatable moat, protected by the best warriors in the land, with an academy of battle mages schooled on even how to open and close--mostly close--Chaos Gates, and led by Shelia Greywand, the most powerful mage of the age. It’s the ultimate gated community. The value of just your quarters alone could buy 50 acres almost anywhere in Alastari,” Corg said.
My-re agreed to the logic then said nodding towards General Pol, “Just ensure my quarters are not next him. I’ve dealt with enough Rirorni to last two lifetimes.”
Deth said smiling, “Don’t worry, I’ll set him up to live out in the stables with the horses. He’ll likely be more comfortable with the animals anyway.”
General Pol looked up and retorted in Rathiri with something My-re roughly translated as, “Go procreate without the benefit of a partner.”
My-re grinned to herself. It seems General Pol was already picking up the language.