A Puzzling Populace

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Tambul – The Atrium

A large statue perched upon a fountain dominates the center of the atrium. Eidos instantly gravitates towards the cool mist rising from jets of water spraying at its feet, hoping to offset the effects of the relentless sun. Upon closer inspection, what looked to be a statue of marble turns out to be some kind of metallic one instead—iron or steel, but white in hue. Remarkably, it lacks any sign of corrosion, despite its proximity to water. The metal bends and twists, depicting an armored hero locked in the throes of battle with a fantastical creature—some strange fusion of serpent, lion, and bird, and other unfamiliar creatures.

This statue seems to serve as a gathering place and most people around here seem engaged in lively conversation. However, a good number seem to share Eidos’ intent and are merely countering the midday heat with the fountain’s misty coolness.

One such person stares at Eidos and then back at the statue with curious eyes and a grin evident even through his bushy, white beard. The man’s mouth opens and closes several times, as though instinct were trying to force words through lips that experience thought it had sealed off.

But of course, the dam will burst and out will come an unending stream of words… Let’s go, body, before that happens.

Eidos simply stands beneath a shower of mist, enjoying the coolness.

Really? So we’re going to fight again, body? No. I’m done fighting. Stay if you want.

Meanwhile, the bearded man’s own internal conflict also reaches its conclusion, instinct triumphing over reason.

“You know what? I think you and this statue have something in common!” speaks the man, as though proudly about to share some grand epiphany.

“If you say so,” she replies still submerged in her misty shower.

“Indeed, I do! I say you are both from Thiuda, are you not?”

Eidos rubs her hands through her moistened hair, sinking the coolness to her scalp, having utterly forgotten the man beside her.

“Oh, I’m sure most in Kabu are baffled by your appearance—perhaps even the ol’ mage-leader himself!” he continues unabated. “But you clearly have the look of a Thiudan to me, and I’m pretty much the authority on ethnicity—if I may be so bold! So, did I strike true, stranger?”

Suddenly realizing the man is still next to her, Eidos starts. “Wha…? Thiuda? Don’t know, really. If you say I am, I must be.” I am an idiot. Can this ‘me’ end soon?

“Indeed, I insist it is so! Despite the remoteness of your homeland, there’s certainly plenty of evidence of your people’s artifacts here in Kabu.

“It follows, then, that there must have been numerous trade routes when the folk of Kabu were stronger, and not merely degenerate, as we are now.

“Wouldn’t that be something?” he says beginning to muse. “To see folk of the Northlands in the desert plains, just as common as migrating birds!”

“What is Thiuda anyway?” Eidos inquires.

Momentary incredulity stuns the bearded fellow to silence. Then, his eyes light up. “Oh! Are you testing me?! I accept!”

Clearing his throat, he proceeds to lecture Eidos, “What is Thiuda, she asks… Why it’s well known! That is, at least, for those with the talent of knowing! Thiuda is a land far to the North, beyond Jer and beyond even the Blade Mountains! Yet, evidence of their artifacts here in Kabu abounds—as previously mentioned. Do you find fault with my keen insights thus far, brave Thiudan?”

“Nope, but I’m gonna leave now.” Eidos begins to walk away. Finally.

“Of course! One so far from home must have come with a purpose beyond talking to the region’s most learned citizen scholars! May Biracul gui… no wait, what was the Thiudan phrase for this occasion? …hmm… Ah, yes! ‘Thra mis Skesir, Dyes mis dawk!’, brave Thiudan!”

Ablah waves Eidos off, loudly chanting his bizarre farewell.

Why do the annoying one’s always seem to be the happiest? Is it a problem with me?

Having to flee her watery refuge’s unfortunate invasion, Eidos now aimlessly wanders the atrium looking for a replacement. She steps into a shadow for a moment, to thwart the sun’s attempts to cook her Falseflesh. She soon notices the shade she now borrows belongs to a massive aqueduct, leading to a roofless structure some two hundred paces north.

That’s about two hundred paces more than this lazy body is willing to walk… Oh, just go there, you idiot. There’ll be water for you to play with—and hopefully drown in, so I can get a smarter body on the next run…

With a sudden sense of purpose, Eidos moves along the path carved out by the aqueduct’s vast shadow… for the first fifty paces or so; thereafter, her feet all but drag her the rest of the way to the aqueduct’s terminus.

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Tambul – The Temple of Biracul

The aqueduct leads Eidos to a square building of some hundred paces in width and of equal length. The sound of crashing water roars from within, mixed with ritual chanting. At a glance she can tell this place is unique among the buildings nearby, for itsdark exterior distinguishes it from the lighter stone of the structures surrounding it. The distinction is not merely visual either, for something about it likewise reminds her of the Sanctuary in which she first gained sight.

No point in just standing here; best move inside.

She crosses the threshold. Bereft of roof—only barely covered by the end of the aqueduct—this space generously hosts the sun’s falling rays, its cascade of light mirrored by the torrent of water pouring into a pool that spans the length of the structure. From the center of the room, a flicker steals her gaze as sunshine contacts the large metallic disk abiding there, elevated upon a three-step dais. This disk bears a great resemblance to the one where she awoke.

A Farcaster? I guess I could’ve come here, too. Where else do they have these things? Does the Dawn Fortress also have one?

Turning her attention to the walls, Eidos notes that the dark sandstone of the temple miraculously seems carved from a monolithic block. Stairways and upper areas around the perimeter have been fashioned from the lighter stone materials prevalent among the neighboring structures. These were by all appearances constructed as an afterthought. However, all masonry and supports here are meticulously crafted and the entire layout designed with expert ability.

The crashing roaring surge of falling water muffles the noise from solemn chants, idle gossip, and rowdy children. The makers of these secondary sounds all move with a uniform purpose, filling their emptied vessels at the opposite end of the waterfall where calmer waters reign. A special section sees a constant stream of vessel bearers filling basins half their size and darting out through a guarded door.

This is a lot of water… Why exactly can’t they give more to the Tacribians? I remember Heyar saying they gave some, but this looks like it’s more than enough for two towns…

Agitated ears collude with impatient feet, sending her into motion towards yet another exit to her right. A blissful silence one conspirator seeks, freedom from idleness the other.

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Tambul – The Residence District

Eidos enters a veritable forest of multi-tiered buildings, its depth invisible from here. Walking among the houses, she runs her hand along the rough surface of their walls, fingers catching where layered bricks peek out from cracks in the adobe.

Though mostly monochromatic and uniform, the residences distinguish themselves by simple yet colorful placards framing what could well be names and occupations.

Dary, Loremaster.

Dysron, Cultivator.

Kagesh, Guardian.

But then, she reaches one with the name defaced. Scratched through with a single line, Zebh, Cultivator was once cleanly written upon its presently marred surface.

Zebh? I’ll hear that name again, surely.

But such simple buildings make for poor companions. A part of her quickly realizes she will gain nothing from vacantly fondling the walls—then again, a different, more influential part of her honestly does not much care to do anything else.

She yawns, turning her head to accommodate an expanding jaw. In her aimless wandering, she seems to have somehow stopped right next to an oddly-dressed fellow standing as still as a statue, so close she can feel the heat from his skin.

The man stares off into realms unseen, into the divine territory only those most dedicated to their craft will ever tread. His concentration is perfect, his patience inhuman, as he awaits the right moment, the ideal opportunity.

Inspiration strikes, and the man begins.

“Hearken, my friends as I begin the tale,” sings out a practiced yet squeaking tenor.

“It starts with a horrible, jinnborn wail.

“A storm of blood, a storm of crime,

“A ghastly, ghoulish, ghost-filled time!” He solemnly bows, pausing for dramatic effect.

“First, came ol' Famlaz, dread Jinn king of red,

“Lies dripping—oozing!—from his brain-filled head.

“Pay attention! Listen now and listen well!

“His squawking bird-voice with effect most fell!” The man looks down, deeply inhaling. When he raises his eyes again, he looks as if he were desperately trying to pass an impacted stool.

“It is I, CAW! Famlicus, the Lord of Lies!

“Scorpions and buzzards, my myriad spies.

“I turn the father 'gainst the son,

“Concoct despair for everyone!” He looks down once more, transitioning back into his original expression of solemnity.

“Then came the brutal brothers Amethyst,

“Whom you would do well to detest.

“Most strong in body, yet quite weak in brain.

“For gifts, they brought man tears and pain!” Lowering his head, he returns to prior look of constipation.

This guy only has two facial expressions it seems…

“Call our names, fools! Konki and Nerius!

“Twinned Jinns and brothers most nefarious!

“First, we strike and smash, then whip and lash!

“We’ll dispose of you like filthy trash!” Then, forgetting to lower his head and pause this time, solemnity returns.

“Next, came Vanargand, fabled Man of Green,

“With his emerald eyes and ghelblade most keen.

“Worse still are his children, death born in three.

“A curse for Biracul, for you and… ME!” His faces shifts.

“I shall strike with both my sword and spear.

“My first’s deadly poison will burn and sear.

“My second’s crushing jaw will mash and bite.

“My third’s grisly face will wither and blight!” Forgetting to even change expressions, he continues his rhapsodic opus.

“Of these roles, nary a one can compare,

“To the unseen Jinn of night and despair!

“Indeed! The very worst was Melinoe,

“Obsidian dowager of shadow!

“Yes! Sister Midnight, neither found nor sought,

“Her most wicked weapon, her silent thought.

“No respite in sleep! Just nightmares galore!

“Beckon ye enter through Night’s charnel door!” His pace accelerates.

“Each and every evil deed sows the seeds” Faster.

“For the almighty Dread Spiral’s return.” Faster.

“Begging please, each mortal pleads,” FASTER!

“Make this festering world… BUR-UR-UR-URRRRrrrrrnnn…” his words peter out as his breath is expended.

What was that?

Then, a lengthy silence ensues, with Eidos and the man simply staring at each other. Uncounted heartbeats pass and the deadlock of their gazes continues.

Minutes.

Hours.

Days.

The two stare at each other, fighting an invisible battle between art and indifference.

Years.

Centuries.

Millennia.

All pass in an instant while they peer deeply into one another’s Trueflesh. One so devout to his craft, the other so apathetic towards it.

But soon an ever-widening smile cracks the man’s sober expression, eyes beaming with pride and delight.

“I can't believe it!” he excitedly exclaims as he rushes to embrace Eidos. “You watched my whole performance! Even the lengthy, silent outro—included for dramatic effect! No one has ever watched my play in its entirety!”

I doubt anyone even made it through the first stanza…

Then releasing his embrace yet maintaining a loving grip on her shoulders, “You are thus bestowed with the highest honor of being my most loyal and supportive fan!”

“Sure,” she replies, “but to be honest I wasn’t really paying attention. Just kind of spaced out there for a moment.”

If only I could’ve done the same…

But the poet now swims in his euphoria too deeply to hear her words. “Long have I searched for a person who would understand my art—and by extension, my very heart! But now, she stands before me, Biracul sent!” He begins to circle her, observing her every feature. “As beautiful as she is strange. As captivating as she is wild. Who is this untamed creature of the desert that stands before me? Me! Lonely, lowly master poet laureate Akkeber. Speak to me your name, oh wonderful you!”

“Hey, are you listen…”

“Shhhhh!” he interrupts. “No, no, no, no! Do not spoil it!” Releasing her, he steps away, staring skyward and with several grand gestures of the hands, proclaims, “Name unknown—unspoken!—you are as mysterious as the dawn meeting the sea! You alone are my muse. You enigmatic bumblebee! Seeking to pollinate the flower of my mind!”

He pauses, profoundly pondering… something. Probably. “Inspiration! I’ve got it!” He looks back at her gently yet excitedly gripping her shoulders again, “I shall call you Bootia, girl of my dreams, woman of my waking nightmare! My next oeuvre—my magnum opus!—will be dedicated to you and you alone!”

Akkeber spins on his heel and speeds away. Without turning back to face her he bellows, “Fret not! Iron the wrinkles from your worried brow! For I will soon finish my new play, my dearest Bootia! Then, you and I shall craft a romance beyond any wordsmith's reckoning! Our bodies the brushes, our fluids the ink!”

Even though in the end nothing matters anyway, from the bottom of my heart, I truly hope we never meet again.

She shrugs and turns her attention back to the surroundings.

A hop, skip, and a jump away from the Residence District, Eidos spots a building similar in shape and construction to the Temple. People enter and exit freely, many carrying leatherbound tomes to and from it.

And I guess those are the Archives where that Kaleki person works.

Recalling the mage Pakahron’s advice, she wonders if she should go investigate.

“Not too far off. Might as well, I guess.”

Moving towards the open doors, she eventually crosses their threshold and enters the local scholar’s haven.