majestic parts of Trachten in Xiacon, where
the prominent lived. Originally near the center of Trachten in
Telbaton, the markets had hence moved more southwest to Palvolin in
the last ten years. Ever so closer to the Shadow Lands did they
move.
They stopped at the same
place they always did, to pay for a room for the week. Most of the
dignitaries and renowned fellows stayed north a good ways at Yoto’s
Inn. Near Xima’s palace, it was fancier and higher priced than
Brocolat’s. Yoto’s had maids who tended to washing, meals, and what
not, whereas Brocolat’s was merely do-it-yourself rooms. Brocolat’s
surroundings were simple and bland, while Yoto’s Inn, being closer
to the palace in Xiacon, lay also among the less godly
establishments of Trachten, which the Sealed had taken oath to
refrain from.
The time of these markets
were an occasion to reacquaint friendships, sell ones goods, and to
peer into the talents and merchandise of others; whereas such would
have been greated restricted, if limited to only their own
villages. But also for many wealthy souls, it was an occasion for
the indulgence of their lusts.
“I don’t know about you good friend,
but I think I’m getting somewhat old,” claimed MaZak, bringing the
wagon to a halt.
“Aye, you look pretty old,” Dartego
replied smiling.
MaZak returned a chuckle.
MaZak and Dartego stepped
up to the old wooden counter. Full of chips and splinters, with
scribbling here and there carved into the surface, it hadn’t been
replaced in a while. The smell of sawdust on the floors brought
back memories every year. Around the way came the attendant. The
total of four weeks a year for these markets was where Brocolat’s
made most of its money. It wasn’t much to look at, but the owner
and his workers had always seemed to be cheery, honest
fellows.
“Hey, Key,” (a nickname for
obvious reasons) MaZak called out.
“Hey, MaZak, back again I
see,” noted Key. “And, I see you’re still hanging around with this
old guy, Dartego.”
“Yeah, someone has to take
care of him,” Dartego replied, smartly.
MaZak and Key likewise
chuckled.
“So, what you got fancy
this trip?” asked Key.
“I may have something you like,” MaZak
claimed with a smile, “but you’ll have to wait till the morrow. We
need some rest.”
“Park your wagon behind the
place, and you can put your horses in the stables. This will give
you more protection,” explained Key.
“Been having problems lately?” asked
Dartego.
“I just don’t want anything
diapearing and you two accusing me. Last trip a guy blamed me for
his trinkets coming up missing. Said his wagon was parked out
front, so it was my fault. Made a big stink, but turns out he was
just lying, so we ran him out of town.”
“I see. You take the guy’s stuff, and
then run him out of town,” MaZak smiled.
“Sounds like that’s what happened to
me,” added Dartego.
“Ah, I can see now this is going to be
a long week with you two,” grinned Key.
§ § § §
Morning came early, but MaZak and
Dartego were ready to greet it. Cricket’s Eatery was the small
tavern next door to the inn, where most eating was done on
makeshift wooden benches and tables outside around the front and
back. One had to make sure not to get a splinter or two. As they
didn’t serve wine and strong drink, it was one of the few places to
get breakfast without having the leftover drunkards from the night
before pestering one for money.
The food was often fresh and the help
was usually very pleasant. The help looked clean and were mannered
servants indeed. MaZak and Dartego grabbed a plate of scrambled
eggs and smoked ham, with a stein of fresh goat milk before heading
out to setup their booth. Goat milk with a hint of sugar cane
delighted their bellies.
The streets were very busy
that morning, with owners scurrying from place to place preparing
to display all of their goods for sell or trade. Seekers from the
surrounding villages
the prominent lived. Originally near the center of Trachten in
Telbaton, the markets had hence moved more southwest to Palvolin in
the last ten years. Ever so closer to the Shadow Lands did they
move.
They stopped at the same
place they always did, to pay for a room for the week. Most of the
dignitaries and renowned fellows stayed north a good ways at Yoto’s
Inn. Near Xima’s palace, it was fancier and higher priced than
Brocolat’s. Yoto’s had maids who tended to washing, meals, and what
not, whereas Brocolat’s was merely do-it-yourself rooms. Brocolat’s
surroundings were simple and bland, while Yoto’s Inn, being closer
to the palace in Xiacon, lay also among the less godly
establishments of Trachten, which the Sealed had taken oath to
refrain from.
The time of these markets
were an occasion to reacquaint friendships, sell ones goods, and to
peer into the talents and merchandise of others; whereas such would
have been greated restricted, if limited to only their own
villages. But also for many wealthy souls, it was an occasion for
the indulgence of their lusts.
“I don’t know about you good friend,
but I think I’m getting somewhat old,” claimed MaZak, bringing the
wagon to a halt.
“Aye, you look pretty old,” Dartego
replied smiling.
MaZak returned a chuckle.
MaZak and Dartego stepped
up to the old wooden counter. Full of chips and splinters, with
scribbling here and there carved into the surface, it hadn’t been
replaced in a while. The smell of sawdust on the floors brought
back memories every year. Around the way came the attendant. The
total of four weeks a year for these markets was where Brocolat’s
made most of its money. It wasn’t much to look at, but the owner
and his workers had always seemed to be cheery, honest
fellows.
“Hey, Key,” (a nickname for
obvious reasons) MaZak called out.
“Hey, MaZak, back again I
see,” noted Key. “And, I see you’re still hanging around with this
old guy, Dartego.”
“Yeah, someone has to take
care of him,” Dartego replied, smartly.
MaZak and Key likewise
chuckled.
“So, what you got fancy
this trip?” asked Key.
“I may have something you like,” MaZak
claimed with a smile, “but you’ll have to wait till the morrow. We
need some rest.”
“Park your wagon behind the
place, and you can put your horses in the stables. This will give
you more protection,” explained Key.
“Been having problems lately?” asked
Dartego.
“I just don’t want anything
diapearing and you two accusing me. Last trip a guy blamed me for
his trinkets coming up missing. Said his wagon was parked out
front, so it was my fault. Made a big stink, but turns out he was
just lying, so we ran him out of town.”
“I see. You take the guy’s stuff, and
then run him out of town,” MaZak smiled.
“Sounds like that’s what happened to
me,” added Dartego.
“Ah, I can see now this is going to be
a long week with you two,” grinned Key.
§ § § §
Morning came early, but MaZak and
Dartego were ready to greet it. Cricket’s Eatery was the small
tavern next door to the inn, where most eating was done on
makeshift wooden benches and tables outside around the front and
back. One had to make sure not to get a splinter or two. As they
didn’t serve wine and strong drink, it was one of the few places to
get breakfast without having the leftover drunkards from the night
before pestering one for money.
The food was often fresh and the help
was usually very pleasant. The help looked clean and were mannered
servants indeed. MaZak and Dartego grabbed a plate of scrambled
eggs and smoked ham, with a stein of fresh goat milk before heading
out to setup their booth. Goat milk with a hint of sugar cane
delighted their bellies.
The streets were very busy
that morning, with owners scurrying from place to place preparing
to display all of their goods for sell or trade. Seekers from the
surrounding villages
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