Gadius shook his head and grinned. He had heard stories, but no one seriously believed them. He now believed. These Oorstemothians were something else. He found it amazing that Oorstemoth could maintain such an efficient and flexible army and navy with so much paperwork. Normal soldiers everywhere else could barely read, let alone understand and sign contracts. He frowned. Oorstemoth must have a very highly educated population if they were all expected to sign and understand legal contracts for everyday activities. After they had signed the documents, the barman handed them each a small bracelet with an odd charm on it to wear on their wrists.
“These indicate that we have your paperwork on file. You can add charms from other taverns and bars if you need to,” The bartender said.
“Interesting... quite useful, it would seem,” Gaius noted to the man.
“That’s the advantage of the strong guild system here. The Tavern Keeper’s Guild ensures that all inns, bars, taverns and other similarly licensed establishments all cooperate to ease the overhead cost in ensuring that all patrons are properly informed and up to date on their agreements with the establishments.”
“Curious,” Gaius said, looking at the charm and ensuring it was not too magical. Simply a small, inscribed runic symbol with an object link back to a centering piece in this tavern.
While the two knights were fastening on their bracelets, the barman poured each of them a house ale from a cask. Gadius raised his eyebrows in surprise as the barman set down two frosty glass mugs of ale. He was not sure if he was more surprised by the glass mugs, or the fact that they served their beer cold. He and Gadius generally preferred cold beer, but as Knights Rampant they were often adventuring in backwaters without the resources to chill beverages.
Sitting at a table near the bar, the two knights had finished about half of their ale when the tavern door opened and a loud, deep tenor voice called, “Like night and day — if it isn’t Salt and Pepper!” The two knights grinned to each other and turned to salute the new arrival with their ales.
“Sir Lady Serah!” Gaius greeted the arriving knight.
“That’s Sir Serah to you, Knight!” Serah laughed. “You know what I think of that ‘Lady’ crap. I ain’t no lady, I’m a Knight Rampant of Tiernon.”
“You really can’t blame the Church hierarchy for maintaining archaic and patronizing forms of address,” Gadius said. “It’s just part of their nature, ingrained for millennia.”
Serah snorted as she pulled up a chair to their table. “Jaedall, a pint of Neurien mead!” she called to the barman, flashing a bracelet with multiple charms on it.
It was Gaius’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “I take it you are familiar with the city?”
She flashed him a grin as she pulled her large helm off and shook her insanely long hair, nearly two inches long, free of the helm. “Not officially.” She grinned.
“You really need a haircut, soldier,” Gadius said with a grin. He knew how much she disliked having long hair. She must have been on a rather intense mission.
“Tell me. Fortunately, I have paperwork with a couple of good barbers here,” Serah replied.
“You need to sign papers with a barber?” Gaius asked.
“What if they cut your neck by mistake while trimming your beard?” Serah asked.
“Is that actually a problem you have to worry about?” Gadius asked her. She punched him in the shoulder.
“You get my point; a barber brings a sharp blade close to people’s throats. They are all bonded and insured. Also, my understanding is that for certain high officials, it’s best to have a clear design plan agreed upon before starting to style said person’s hair. It avoids a lot of court time if they are unhappy with the new look.”
Gadius and Gaius shook their heads in wonder at the complexity of this city.
“So other than that, what all can you tell me?” Serah asked. “I’m sure I got the same initial message, which sounds appalling, but then I got a second message to come here when I couldn’t get to Freehold before you left.”
“Are you up to date on Freehold?” Gaius asked.
“All I know is that Talarius was cruelly defeated and kidnapped by a demon.” She shook her head. “It sounds impossible. He’s bested more demons than I can count.”
“Not just any demon, an archdemon. And there were at least two more, along with a few greater demons,” Gadius said.
“Archaedemons? Multiple archaedemons?” Sera asked.
“Well, yes, and well over a thousand other lesser demons that had been infesting Freehold.” Gaius shrugged.
Serah gave them a double take. “You are going to have to tell me more!” she commanded.
“This place makes Gizzor Del seem civilized!” Jenn complained as she, Gastropé, Danfaêr and Treyfoêr made their way down the cramped stone street towards the apothecary. As cramped as the small street was for her, she could only imagine what it felt like to the aetós.
They had arrived shortly after dawn. Trefalger, the second mate, and Seamach began putting together landing parties. All five people from the Council party were going down: Trevin, Maelen, Elrose, Jenn, Gastropé, along with Seamach the scout, Bealach the navigator, Trefalger, four of the aetós guardians and four of the dwarf guardians.
“I have not been to Gizzor Del, but I have heard of it,” Danfaêr said. “But given these horribly confining streets, I can’t see how it could have been conceivably worse!”
“I do not like all the little tunnels where people’s homes have extended so far over the street that they are bumping into the apartments on the other side and cutting off the sky above!” Treyfoêr said.
“Why even groundlings would want to live like this is beyond me! It’s like a cage, complete with a dung-strewn floor!” Danfaêr said, trying to scrape some excrement off his right boot.
“Who would have thought being cooped up for days inside a cloud would feel less confining?” Gastropé added with the others nodding in agreement.
They had made a quick descent on the carpets, diving out of the sky at a far faster pace than they had when going up to the Nimbus at the first town, albeit more restrained than during combat. The pilots had landed them outside of town and they had split up into different groups to gather various supplies. The plan was to all rendezvous at a large tavern named “The Alfar’s Arse,” oddly enough run by an alvaren couple for the last seven hundred years. It had a good-sized banquet room that Seamach had rented out for the day. Seamach had told them that there would be snacks, beer and wine available and paid for throughout the day and that they would be having dinner in the evening with some of his friends.
It seemed like a pretty good deal to Gastropé, albeit a bit odd. Seamach had talked about his contacts in the alvaren intelligence community, but they were not being particularly circumspect. True, there were plenty of alvar in town, so that was not unusual, as well as a fair number of dwarves, heartheans and other races compared to Freehold or most of Turelane, for that matter. However, the only aetós in town were the ones with them, and that did attract quite a bit of attention. Tall, extremely attractive humans with large, colorful feathered wings and wild hairdos were not common anywhere that Gastropé had ever heard of. Most thought the aetós to be creatures of myth and legend. He felt rather sorry for their discomfort. In the more crowded areas people, especially children, would just randomly reach out to touch their wings. Gastropé had to imagine it felt rather awkward to be continually groped and touched like that. However, Danfaêr and Treyfoêr seemed to maintain a pleasant demeanor.