33

The City of Decadence

The wagon rolled deep into the rocky plains, nothing between them and the far blue sky but a few straggling clouds.

‘There’s your problem,’ Ludgar said to the fox as he watched the barren landscape stroll by. ‘When Sethel says “mostly,” he really means it’s about fifty-fifty.’

‘The young vulpine simply wished to learn some spells. I never expected the fireball to explode.’

‘You can’t be serious,’ Ludgar said with a chuckle, full well knowing the answer.

‘I never expected it to explode like that. The boy has a gift, but his control leaves much to be desired.’ Sethel went back to reading. Despite the wave of heat today, he still wore that ridiculous hooded robe.

Further into League territory, the farmlands grew much more distant and far between. Luscious fields of uncountable flowers of all kinds of colours gave way to the grey craggy stones that jutted from the yellow aged grass.

‘I guess there's good news and bad news; the bad news is we can never go back to Asterport.’

‘What’s the good news?’

‘We don’t have to go back to Asterport.’

The wagon rolled on through the well walked road, cloth canvas helping to shade them from the heat of the sun.

‘You’ve been to Savanti a few times, right Ludgar?’ Kathiya asked.

‘A few.’

‘... Well?’

‘Be careful.’

‘That’s it? That’s all your advice?’

‘Don’t eat the cakes.’

‘Cakes?’ Caspar yelled, bolting right out of his daydream.

‘Look! There it is!’ Kathiya yelled, pointing out into the plains.

It started with the glint; a blinding white spark from the bright midday sun. Then more rose from the plains. Crystalline towers of glass twisted into the blue sky, and further out from the centre, the towers shrunk till they became normal buildings at the city limits, with a few oddities dotted in-between. One building looked like a potion vial. Another took the appearance of a horses’ face. Some places grew tall and thin, others short and stout. The one at the very center glittered with every conceivable colour, and possibly some colours not yet invented.

Savanti: the City of Poets. Or to use its more colloquially known title: the City of Decadence.

Within the city gates, the wagon came to a halt, and the group descended. They paid the driver his fee and walked the gold-plated road into central Savanti. It wasn’t actually gold-plated, of course; the locals would have ripped up each brick in a matter of minutes. However, it did look like gold, and that’s all that matters, really. You can even see where some bricks were stolen, anyway.

You get these kinds of people in every city. Those people who define their entire personality by the things they wear, and they want everyone to know it. You can get by because they’re usually in the minority. You can gawk at the people in strange clothing and move on with your day.

The difference between Savanti and everywhere else is that these people are not in the minority.

Every single person tried their hardest to look more outstanding and outrageous than the last. One walked by with their hair styled in what looked to be a boat, one had a neck ruffle that other had to duck to avoid, and one had a dress so large it pushed everyone aside as she walked past, like a snow shovel.

Ironically, Ludgar and his crew probably stood out the most, given that their clothing was sensible, practical, and could fit through a doorway without much effort.

Some elaborate hats were tall enough to knock the hanging tapestries, lamps, signs, and all other manner of ridiculous nonsense that hung on wires from building to building. Some advertised plays, operas, musicians, taverns, circus acts, even a few drug houses, or Crystal Haven, as they like to call them.

Scantily clad women of all different races stood by doorways, enticing people into the Houses of Pleasure. Caspar couldn’t get a good look, as Ves’sa covered his eyes and guided him through the street.

Aside from that, there were uncountable numbers of street performing jugglers, singers, dancers, exotic dancers, jesters, performative actors, and even some beggar performers (or they could be actual beggars, it was hard to tell in Savanti) all begging for the attention of someone who will notice them.

Everyone has just the right amount of talent to be good, yet they don't have the amount to be good enough.

Their adventure brought them to the city center, where an ostentatious fountain featuring an angel and a demon in an intense, sensual embrace, where every orifice poured water made from every colour known.

That summed up Savanti quite well: a testament to unparalleled, unrestricted, absolute creative freedom.

And It looked like complete shit.

Beyond the fountain was the core of all Savanti; a glittering crystalline structure that looked to be designed somewhere between temple and palace.

They call it the Starlight Sanctuary, and it is the home of the city's enigmatic ruler: Lord Trister of the League.

Entry is only for the invited, and you either have to do something very noticeable, be very attractive, or do something very stupid to get inside.

And when you do get inside, it’s said that you never leave; not because of anything insidious. You just simply don’t want to.

It’s just a saying, after all. The entrance was lined with the most outlandish of people vying for attention and doing all they could to catch the eye of their Lord.

As for the mercs, where to go next? Taverns are always a good idea. Actually, Ludgar hadn’t had a drink since Asterport. He didn’t even really feel the need for one, but it felt appropriate, and old habits tend to die hard.

They found one at the city centre. A pure white palace built with marble pillars and featured provocative statues you could swear they were just people painted white. One moved and they found out some actually were people painted white. It was named the Fountain of Youth, and it boasted a massive fountain that sprung forth wine instead of water.

It cost five hundred marks for entry, and there was no way they were paying that.

The next was a somewhat smaller one shaped like a caricature of the palace of Orrick. It was named the Queen’s Garments and featured a waitstaff composed entirely of royal looking people in their underwear.

Tame considering most places of Savanti, but it still had quite an entry fee, and a single mug of ale cost around fifteen marks, so that wasn’t happening either.

Bishop’s Fancy was another. This one built itself like a Temple of Phaos and they held competitions on who could drink the most mixed spirits from a basin. The last left standing got to wear the hat of the Archbishop and wield a scepter that fires whisky from the tip. Again, the entry was far too expensive, and the dress code required Phaosian priest robes. Sethel could pass, but the rest were out of luck.

This led them down several back alleys and into the areas the more destitute and desperate of the enterprising business owners had to make do with.

It dwelled at the underside of a much more popular Crystal Haven, and you could smell the smoke wander in through the floorboards above.

It had the apt name of Devil’s Scrotum.

It made him wonder if they thought of the name first and found the appropriate place for it, or if this is all they could get and named it accordingly.

It boasted a bench, a counter made from three regular tables nailed together, a bartender who could not afford a cloth to clean his mugs with so made use of his own grubby shirt, and a single, damp keg that served as the reliquary for their single product.

The wonderful thing about taverns like this is that the drinks can serve multiple functions. For one instance, this original, homebrewed drink can also be used to clean the underside of ships. Drink enough and you can go blind.

‘By the gods,’ Kathiya said, wincing, coughing and spluttering at the same time. ‘I’m sure this is used to strip paint from walls.’

It was one of those strange types of drink that tastes different to everyone who tried it.

To Ludgar, it brought a metallic taste. Like sucking on a mark, except there were five hundred of them and they had all been melted.

To Sethel, it was like lemon, if lemon was emphasised by war hammer and brought down on the end of his tongue.

To Caspar, he said it was like drinking perfume, which he told them he has done before, because if it smells good, by all logic, it must taste good.

To Ves’sa, well, she never said so they never knew. It couldn’t be good, because even she grunted as she drank it.

‘Well that fucking sucked,’ Ludgar said, leaving in a mood. ‘Can we find anywhere affordable that won’t burn a hole in my stomach lining?’

‘Maybe we can,’ Kathiya added with playful flair. Her fingers produced a necklace, forged in gold and carrying a ruby that was almost the size of her eye. ‘That’s the great thing about such ridiculous clothing; no one can tell when something goes missing.’

‘You may want to get a closer look at that,’ Sethel said, from over her shoulder.

‘What do you mean?’ She pulled a gem from the necklace and held it between finger and thumb. ‘... Wait.’ She applied the most minute amount of pressure, and the ruby split between her fingers. ‘It’s fake?’ she yelled with more anger than any of them had seen before.

‘Welcome to Savanti!' Ludgar said. 'Everything here is fake! Watch.’ He walked into the main street and, like an indecisive shopper at the market, waited for the right person.

One walked by him; a sheep in a tricorne that was at least three times bigger than it should be, had several stupidly long feathers bouncing from the top, and a cloud of curly white hair dangling from beneath.

‘Behold!’ He pulled the hat from their head, brining the hair with it.

‘Waah!’ yelled the man, trying to hide his bald head as best he could.

‘You see, all fak-’ he tried to finish before three guards tackled him to the ground.