Desert Storm - [Closed]

[General Phade]

DESERT STORM

In which Peri and Phade Fangasm over characters and a setting birthed of Trials of Kings

BECAUSE WHY THE HELL NOT?

[Your Missing Period]

RZHAVARD NALAENIR

Five years was a very short amount of time, but much had happened.

The King's trials, for starters, it had lasted but a few months. During that time Rzhavard had obtained a camel, the absolute basics of the language, quite a few enemies, angry commanders, and a ranch.

What? How does a ranch fit in to that?

Well, he couldn't be a guard and raise a camel, so once the trials were over, he turned in his paperwork and left he knighthood, returning to his father's ranch. It wasn't what he would have preferred to do, but the idea certainly wasn't as hated as it was before the trials. If anything, it was peaceful. He missed the wide open spaces, the fresh air, even the smell of cows. He had missed it. Did he apologize to his father for leaving to the knighthood, not returning home for seven years? Yes, yes he did, and his father and mother both apologized as well, understanding his decision. Mutual forgiveness all around. The money he'd been sending was put to good use, they had plenty of acreage, plenty of cows and bulls that were healthy, it was amazing to see what some money every month could do.

The only problem was Alfalfa the camel.

Rzh didn't know how to raise camels, and the only information he had was from the troop during the trials. Initially the camel was left to graze with the cows, but the little desert horse did not get along with them and was rather grumpy, so eventually some fences were built and he got his own bit of land to himself to rest and graze and bellow at passerbys that was the Nalaenir family. But the rancher tried his best to raise the camel, knowing the basics. Weaned at a year old, fully mature at 6 or 7 years, can carry full loads by five years, needed a lot of bulk in his diet, so he did all of that to the best of his ability. He walked around with Alfalfa (the thing was less grumpy when Rzhavard was watching) while doing morning chores, and slowly Rzh was training him to carry loads. Maybe a bale of hay here, take him to town maybe carry some simple fabrics and some packaged meat, baby steps.

It was a peaceful three years, quite peaceful.

Year four the winds were changing, bits and pieces of information flitting through the air about Shahszhan. There was civil war brewing in the desert, the people torn about the Esedian influence that was in it. Some were for it, others against it, and then you had extremists. it was concerning to the Esedian, talking it over with his father and one of his sister's husbands. It was a hard discussion, the other two still very closed minded, having not traveled and seen what Rzhavard had seen. But he started listening to the reports of what was going on in the East every time he went in to town, asking around with what people knew. The next year the information was worse. War had erupted, it was threatening to spill back over to Esedi through Fovoham, even on Tishtar's borders if the Shahszhani could get boats. And that was it for Rzhavard.

He packed up his things, while explaining to his parents where he was going.

"but they're barbarians!"
"I hear they're cannibals!"

"I'll be fine, I've survived worse." and with Alfalfa now five years old, trained to lay down and rise on command (though with some attitude), and trained to carry large loads they set off. Was it dangerous? Yes. Could he die? Yes. And the closer he grew to the Fovoham-Shahszhani border, the more nervous he became. One last stop in Fovoham, letting Alfalfa fatten his hump for a few days while he packed his own supplies and changed clothes, wearing the Shahszhani garb gifted to him so long ago, rapiers on his sides. "I politely ask of you, Rais Ankas and Zu'Ular, to give me protection through Shahszhan." he murmured to the amulet around his neck, pressing his lips to the edges before tucking it in his tunic. "Let's go Alfalfa." and sat himself on the camel, the thing giving a grunt before standing up. They left before dawn.

The abandoned battlefields were not overly hard, that was a two day trek, but entering the desert he met with raiders, which was not fun. Rzh hadn't fought in a while, but the movements came to him easily, and being that he worked harder as a rancher than as a guard, the movements didn't hurt, even at twenty-eight years old. But it was not a fight they wanted, them running off with his armor. In his rage him and Alfalfa got in to a yelling match before moving on. Another three days in the desert. Was it sandstorm season? He should have asked, it certainly felt like it, having been stopped on more than one occasion to let them pass. Half a day was dedicated to sitting and waiting for the storm to pass, Rzh curled up against the beast, head and face covered with cloth, doing his best to protect Alfalfa's face as well during it. But at least Alfalfa was built for the desert, he was taking to it rather well.

It was the sixth day when they arrived at Ha'Akram, and it was literally everything Rzh had imagined it to be. But he couldn't stop and stare, getting off of the camel and walking on foot. What was he going to say to the Zashik? 'I heard there was a civil war going on and would like to help'? No, 'Rumor in Goldvale was that Shah--' no it wasn't a rumor anymore it was fact. He frowned in thought, tapping the leather lead in his hand with his fingers. He had to think of something, there was a war going on he can't imagine Isshin wanted to waste time hearing Rzhavard try and collect thoughts. Eventually he had to stop walking around, Alfalfa was getting tired, so in his best Shahszhani he asked for directions to the palace and walked there, the lumbering beast slowly starting to complain.

But they arrived, Rzh looking at a palace guard. "I came to see the Zashik." he spoke, pulling out the medallion and showing it. The man seemed to debate for a few seconds letting Rzhavard in and calling to the people inside. A handler took Alfalfa, the Esedian quickly warning him to be on his best behavior before allowing himself to be led inside. The fabric around his face was lowered back down around his neck, walking in to the room that he guessed was the main hall of the palace. And there in front of him looked a very irritable Zashik with Bunny on one side, the other wife on the other, and four more behind him.

And he still hadn't thought of what to say. Did he speak in Shahszhani or Esedi? He had to use Esedi, he didn't know enough vocabulary to say what he wanted. He hoped they could forgive him though, considering his tongue was one of the reasons of the civil war. Be quick, make your point, Isshin didn't like ramble.

"I'm sorry for coming unannounced. I thought I could help you with your civil war."

Was that too confident? Should it have been 'I thought that perhaps I could help?' Rzhavard wasn't sure, but he had certainly made his point very quickly. He was nervous. Neutral face, Rzhavard. Be confident enough in yourself but humble in front of the Zashik.

[General Phade]

❂Isshinenga Na'Bahanagad❂
Zashik of Shahszhan

It had been a long five years.

The trials of Allanard, Once-King of Esedi, had been nothing to contend with compared to the threat that now faced Shahszhan.

It had always been there, the anger, the hatred, the contempt for Esedi and the ways of its people. But there had been little choice at the time. Fifteen years ago, the Shahszhani faced extinction, a senseless and bloody massacre at the hands of the armies of Esedi. It was a war neither side wanted, and a war that Shahszhan had finally lost.

It had not been the Zashik’s wish to surrender. The pride of Shahszhan, and his own pride as a warrior had kept him from backing down sooner. But with the slaughter of his brothers, all the warriors that followed him, all the widows and orphans this war was making, he had been left little choice. Isshinenga Na’Bahanagad, Zashik of Shahszhan, surrendered the war to Esedi.

It had been a dark day for Shahszhan. A foul blight upon its rich history.

And with the fall of the desert lands, the pale-faces came. Some of them learned, but most of them stole and scavenged and scarred Shahszhan, leaving her even worse than they had during the war. And while the Zashik worked tirelessly with the king of Esedi to keep such pillaging from happening, it very quickly became clear there would be no reasoning with the pale-faces, even if their king had proven countless times he was on the desert’s side.

There had been rumblings. A great many rumblings about the ineptitudes of the Zashik, but weakened from the war, they died off after a time, left only to the most extreme of purists, and the Zashik had gone on to face the Trials of Allanard, never with an intent to win, but to preserve his people and their integrity.

Not only had he succeeded, but Shahszhan was once again made a free land, to be solely under his rule once again.

It should have ended there.

It should have been simple.

But the Zashik had returned home to find the rumblings had come anew in his absence. For the first year they quieted, uncertainty and new hope lighting the way to a brighter future now that the desert once again belonged to her children. But the second year they returned yet again. Lingering traces of Esedian influence sparked anger in the purists, anger they brought upon the Zashik. His time in Esedi had learned him in some of their ways, and some of those some were not unreasonable or unhelpful. He had allowed those ways to continue, and refuted the words of the purists. The third year the purists tried once more, furious with the number of Esedians still daring to set foot in Shahszhan. In the interest of peace, the Zashik refuted them again, continuing to welcome any of Esedi who came to learn, to trade, and to keep the peace between Shahszhan and Esedi, lest another war break out.

The fourth year things had turned violent. More than once, purists had been brought to the Zashik, cursing him and wishing for divine retribution to fall upon him for letting the sanctity of Shahszhan be tainted by Esedian scum. And all after having savagely brutalized Esedian visitors, after wrecking their homes, temporary or otherwise, destroying the wares they had come to trade or sell.

And every time the Zashik punished not those of Esedi for daring to set foot in the desert, but the Shahszhani who fought to protect it.

This fifth year... Everything had gone wrong. There were public uprisings almost daily, violent displays of what the Shahszhani purists and their growing number of followers were willing and able to do. And it had turned from being all about removing Esedi and its presence from the desert to removing anyone who even thought to consider empathizing with Esedi.

Shahszhani turning on Shahszhani. What sickness had festered and spread throughout his people?

In the audience chamber of his palace, Isshin sat atop his litter, his first and second wives seated beside him, and his third through sixth fanned out behind them.

He had spent the morning being given the reports from the warriors that served him closest. Beatings and brutalization, hostage situations, rape and murder and theft and all around destruction and chaos. Too much for even his warriors to handle on their own. Many of them had turned to the Purists, feeling Isshin had failed him as Zashik.

His men were tired. He was tired. Both the Hashishin and Hashisha were no doubt even more exhausted, yet still they fought on. Isshin refused to let them down. There had to be a way to put down this rebellion. To bring peace back to Shahszhan before it fell apart from the inside.

Should that happen, should the Wasp win, then there was no one who could save them.

Isshin sighed and dismissed his warrior. Slouching, he pinched the bridge of his nose and cursed under his breath. Nothing seemed to have been going right as of late. He needed a new approach. Something the Purists would not expect of him.

And then came word of a visitor from Esedi. A visitor who carried something Isshin held dear.

He had not seen the knight since his departure from Esedi those five long years ago. On any other occasion, he would have been happy to welcome the man. But with the situation what it was, his arrival could not have been at a worse time. To Isshin’s left, he saw the slightest further downturn of the corner of Zanubiya’s lips. A stark contrast to Vabani, on his right, who exuded nothing but joy and delight. Years amongst these women had learned him in how to sense their feelings. The same was also true, if less so, in regards to his other wives.

An undoubtable air of wariness came from behind him, radiating most prominently, he suspected, from Shashara. Curiosity from Zanama. Pure discontent from Mammara. But from Suna, of course, there was nothing but the dead and empty air that always surrounded her.

And then the man made a statement.

And the Zashik saw red.

“You think you can help us,” he said slowly, going so far as to speak that infernal Esedian tongue so that the man might understand him. “You think a man of Esedi could possibly hope to understand what it is that is happening here?”

He felt Vabani’s eyes flit over to him, but he paid her no mind.

“What do you know of us, aside from that we are not you? Little, I suspect,” he snapped, cutting off any attempt Rzhavard might have made to defend himself, “if you came as you are. Fool.” He rose from his litter, and with him all six wives stood.

“My people,” he said softly, struggling to keep the fury from overwhelming him while he walked down the set stairs to meet Rzhavard face to face, “are slaughtering each other in the streets like the savage barbarians yours think we are. And they do this, Nalaenir, because they would be rid of people like you. Pale-faces who think are learned in our ways and exploit them for their own usage and gain.

“And yet here you stand. A man of Esedi, wearing the garb of a Shahszhani.” He all but grabbed Rzhavard, balling up the fabric in his fist. “Did you not think such a sight might be upsetting to the Purists? Did you not think the Mi’Ia would be enraged if they saw the medallion you carry? A holy artifact in the possession of one who does not believe in the ways or follows the paths of Rais Ankas or Zu’Ular? Did you not think at all, Rzhavard?” He was snarling by the end of it, voice echoing loud and clear through the silent audience chamber. He glared down at the smaller man and huffing through gritted teeth.

“The best way for you to help us now,” he growled, giving Rzhavard a slight shove as he released the younger man’s clothes, “is by leaving.”

Turning away, he stormed back up the stairs at an angle, making for an arched doorway. “Take over,” he said to Zanubiya. “I am not to be disturbed.”

“My Zashik.”

As Isshin vanished beyond the door, Zanubiya, First Wife of the Zashik and the only woman present to not have her the majority of her face covered, took his place before the litter. The other wives took their seats again, save Vabani, who lingered at a gesture from her superior. Sharp eyes still fixed upon the Esedian, she asked a question of Vabani in her own language. When the second wife answered, she spoke then to the man so he could understand.

“You will spend the night,” said Zanubiya. “Your supplies will be refilled, and your horse--”

“Camel.”

Zanubiya turned her head to stare at Vabani.

“I am quite certain he rode a camel into the desert,” said Vabani, eyes twinkling as they flitted between Rzhavard and Zanubiya.

Wordlessly, Zanubiya turned back to Rzhavard. “Your mount will be tended to. Come morning you will be escorted to the edge of the city, and you will make your way home.” She nodded to Vabani. “I trust you can babysit him for one night?”

Vabani nodded.

“Then we are done here. Go.”

With a wave of her hand, Zanubiya dismissed Vabani and the rest of the wives. While the others followed the Zasha Ahri-Aak from the room, using a door opposite of the one Isshin had, Vabani all but floated down the stairs to meet Rzhavard face-to-face for the first time in five years. She set one soft hand against his cheek and smiled a smile that reached her eyes.

“It is good to see you again, Rzhavard. How is little Alfalfa?”

*~-~*

The Wives of the Zashik

☬ Zanubiya ☬

♕ Vabani ♕

♝ Shashara ♝

♘ Suna ♘

♗ Nazama ♗

♞ Mammara ♞

INDENT

[Your Missing Period]

RZHAVARD NALAENIR

Rzhavard felt it. That feeling you get when you say something, and you know instantly it was the wrong choice of words? He felt that right now, it was a familiar feeling, incredibly familiar, but as the Zashik walked up to him he took a slow breath, keeping his face as neutral as possible. Calm, breathe, calm, slow breathing, slow breathing. Don't defend yourself, don't speak. The man was biting the insides of his cheeks. He had no right to speak. He had known coming during this time was a bad idea, he had known that Esedians like him were not welcomed in these parts, but he had come anyway. Which, in hindsight was a terrible idea. His armor had been stolen so now raiders knew he was in Shahszhan, that word would spread, someone could have been following him to the palace. God this was a terrible idea in hindsight, he could understand the man's rage, now.

When his garb was grabbed did he give the smallest of frowns. Oh, Rzhavard was sorry for trying to protect his own life. What did the Zashik expect him to do? Walk straight in to Shahszhan dressed as an Esedian? Let's walk straight in to the jaws of death, Isshinenga. The pale-face could have just strolled on in on a horse and decked out in the most Esedian clothes he could find and die of heatstroke assuming the raiders and purists didn't kill him first. At least dressed in the Shahszhan garb he stood an inkling of a chance at surviving his trek to Ha'Akram and maybe offer his help (though he hadn't worded it properly). Fine, he'll go back to the Cattling Region of Esedi. He just wanted to try and be nice and help but fine. Let the country be burned up by war.

The man loosened the muscles in his legs enough to allow himself to be shoved back, regaining his balance quickly and straightening himself back up as he watched the Zashik walk out. Surprisingly that went as well as Rzhavard had expected it to go, refocusing on the woman he could only assume to be the first wife. He had to bite the insides of his cheeks harder as Vabani provided a small defense, not wanting to smile. "Thank you." was all he said to the first wife, watching four others follow behind her. That, that was a lot of wives. Keeping his mind in check he smiled at Vabani. "Pardon me, a moment." he said, quickly wrapping his arms around her and hugging her once the other women were out of sight. "It's good to see you again, Vabani." and let go, putting some comfortable distance between them again.

"and he is doing well. He was born large so he was able to make the trek here despite recently turning five, though he's certainly not little anymore. You're more than welcomed to see him, if you'd like." he chuckled at that, relaxing his posture somewhat in the company of the familiar woman. "Age has seemed to favor you, you're looking as lovely as ever. But how have you been? My timing wasn't the best I'm aware, nor were my words, but the war has not been kind to him, has it?" Rzhavard was concerned and worried. He knew it was bad, war was never easy, but in the span of five years Isshin seemed to have aged at least ten.

[General Phade]

Vabani ♕ Zasha Ahri-Dak

It was a simple little gesture, his embrace, but it had Vabani’s eyes watering nonetheless. It both threw her, as she had not expected it, and warmed her heart immensely to see that in their time apart he had not regressed. He had come so far since then, from that angry, vicious beast she had first met, to a bright and kind man with nothing but love and goodness in him.

The mother in her had no choice but to weep in joy, and she traced a dainty finger over her eyes once they parted.

“No,” she laughed, smiling even wider when he spoke of the camel she had had him keep and raise. “I would imagine he is not so little anymore.” She folded her hands in front of her and gave Rzhavard a once-over. “Children tend to grow up so fast.” A pause. “We’ll be sure to see him a bit later. For now, we should get you out of those filthy things.” She brushed a bit of sand from Rzhavard’s clothing before laughing when he complimented her. “I don’t know how you could make that assumption,” she said airily. ”You’ve yet to see my face beneath this swath of red fabric. But I am and have been well... all things considered.” She cast a wary gaze at the door Isshin had taken out of the audience chamber.

“Come along.” She turned and led him away. “Let’s get you settled. If you’ve truly come to help us, you will need a space of your own to work and meditate. I know what Isshin said,” she added, glancing back at him as she led him through the palace, servants nodding their respects as she and her guest passed. “But he does not mean it. Truthfully yours were the correct words. Had his mood not already been so foul, he would no doubt have appreciated them. But things do not go well in Shahszhan right now.

“The war has not been kind to him. You should hear some of the things that are said about my Zashik.” She was quick to explain the situation to him, how everything had begun since their return to the desert, how things had escalated so quickly and how even some of their most loyal followers and warriors had gone over to the side of the Purists, all the while leading him through the vast maze that was the Zashik’s Palace.

“He does his best, and we wives stand by him through it all, but...” She sighed, stopping outside a door. “I fear it is not enough. There is only so much that can be done when one side does not wish to listen to the other. The Purists would have us remove all trace of Esedi from our lands. While I can understand their sentiments, I cannot see that being the solution. If we were to expunge every bit of Esedian influence, it would only widen the rift between our nations. Sooner or later, war will come again. It would be ironic, but... that may just be what our people need to be whole and united again.”

Pushing open the door, Vabani stepped inside. There was little to the room, a cot, a basin, an oil lamp and a small table upon which to work. The latter did, however, have a small stack of books upon it. Most of Shahszhan’s history was oral or told in dance, but there was yet still some of it that had been written. “It is not much compared to the rooms of Esedi,” said Vabani, stopping at the center of the plush embroidered rug that covered the floor. She spun on her toes, feet bare beneath her robes. “For that, I am sorry, but we simply do not have the resources Esedi is rich in. I hope you are not terribly disappointed.”

[Your Missing Period]

RZHAVARD NALAENIR

The man looked down at the tunic, realizing he was still covered in sand. "I am so sorry for walking in like this." he murmured, ready to dust more of the sand off but paused, not wanting to ruin the clean floors and seem disrespectful. Oh but he'd already brought in some sand. This was the palace after all, he had to refrain from dusting himself off, hoping no sand was in his hair since it was still wrapped in cloth. "Pardon? Settled? But Isshin--" she cut him off and started walking, Rzhavard very quickly following after her. And she started to explain the going-ons of the past five years. The first year, peace because Shahszhan was free from Esedi. The second year, the fire under the pot turned on. The third year had the pot starting to bubble and stir, extremists yelling their opinions out at how Shahszhan was still part of Esedi. The fourth year, any Esedians in the borders, the ones they could find, had been harassed, beaten, stolen from, which led us to the fifth year, the pot was boiling over. Public riots, violence, Esedians being killed, kidnapped or beaten, and anyone who associated with the pale-faces suffered the same fate.

He looked away from her finally to the walls, surprised by the giant colorful tapestry that adorned it. He glanced back, then forward on the wall, realizing how long it was. And the color. He would have stopped to admire it, but Vabani was moving quick so he had to keep up, noticing other things on the walls and from the ceiling. Lots of silk, and for a moment he grew frightened, seeing a snake, but after passing another snake he realized they were hanging. Were those skins? Had someone painted them to look lifelike again? He wished to get a closer look at that. It was incredibly different from Castle Duran. The Castle's halls had been filled with respectful history. A painting, a vase, a suit of armor perhaps, but not the Shahszhan Palace. It didn't just tell it, it seemed to show it through the tapestries, the animals fighting either on stands or on ceilings, the arrangement of weapons. The curiosity which had been asleep woke up again, thirsting for knowledge of these things.

Nearly crashing into the Zasha Ahri-Dak he stopped, tearing his eyes away from the walls to her, listening to her logic about war and nodded. "That is how the Cattle Region came to be. Tishtar and Goldvale fought, and we were fighting influence. Eventually we were left alone." he gave a small shrug, "It could reunite or tear Shahszhan apart, one side being purists and the other welcoming Esedian influence. Peace would be preferred though, I agree with you." and with that she opened the door, showing him the inside of the room. It was small, a small bowl, a small cot, a small desk, but he smiled, pleased with it. "I can assure you, this is exactly what I wanted, Vabani. If I wanted the comforts of Esedi, I would have stayed home. One cannot learn a culture if they stay within their own. So, I'm pleased with this. I am happy with it. I promise I am."

And he stepped in, making sure his swords didn't hit the woman and looked around curiously at everything, moving to the books and opening them briefly before looking at the carpet underneath his shoes. "I am glad I didn't bring much." meaning him being raided was a good thing, in hindsight. "I wouldn't have needed it. Though, I do need to apologize" he held a guilty/embarrassed look on his face. "I'm no exactly sure how I can help. I came on a whim. I'm sorry, Zasha."

[General Phade]

♕ Vabani ♕

♝ Shashara ♝

Simple responses, but earnest nonetheless. In that regard, he hadn’t changed at all in the long five years. Vabani watched him a moment while he took in and commented on his accommodations. He was a simple man, but that would benefit him in the desert, surely. Shahszhan was a vastly different place from Esedi.

She reached out, setting a hand on his arm when he admitted to not having a plan. “It is the sentiment that counts, Rzhavard.”

“Sentiment is the reason we’re in this situation.”

Vabani started. She'd been so distracted with Rzhavard she hadn’t heard the statuesque woman arrive. She leaned against the door, an arm held high and supporting her weight. Her other hand rested on her hip, lavender silk spilling over a broad frame.

“The Purists are sentimental about the days long past, when the words of Esedi were harsh upon our ears and their pale skins stung our eyes. It’s precisely because they’re sentimental that this nonsense has come to pass. And it is nonsense. How they can expect that we could ever hope to remain uninfluenced by a neighboring nation, even if we hadn’t been conquered, eludes me.”

“Rzhavard,” said Bunny, gesturing to the woman while looking at him, “this is Shashara, Zasha Ahri-Tak. Shashara, Sir Rzhavard Nalaenir of Esedi.”

Shashara gave a singular nod in greeting, long braid falling over her shoulder, before turning her attention to Vabani. “You would give him my study.”

“It is the quietest room in the palace.”

“It’s also the closest to your private chambers.”

Vabani gave an innocent little shrug.

“I’m quite sure I don’t mind,” said Shashara. A little smirk crossed the third wife’s lips once her gaze travelled back to Rzhavard. “You’re welcome to read them,” she said, glancing briefly at the books he’d taken to. “And if you’d like, you’re welcome to borrow the books I have in my own chambers, as well. But if you damage them I’ll have your hands for trophies.”

“She really will,” said Vabani, giving Rzhavard a playful wink. “Shashara is quite brutal.”

“Believe me, Boy, I’m the nice one. It’s Zanu and Suna you should look out for.”

“Suna is harmless.”

“Until you say something wrong. And she won’t give you any warning on the matter, either,” she said matter-of-factly. “One moment you’re speaking as if nothing is wrong, and the next you’re flat on the ground after having taken a foot to the back of your head. Zanubiya is not pleased with you, either, Vabani.”

The second wife laughed. “Is she ever?”

“There’s at least a chance for it when you’re not undermining her in front of the others.”

“I don’t know where else I could come from," Vabani said airily. How does one get above an ego that has risen higher than the clouds?”

Shashara snickered, and once more she nodded to Rzhavard. “How’s your Shahszhani, Boy? And your understanding of our day-to-day lives? You’ll make another poor impression Ahri-Aak if you can’t even keep to the basics of etiquette here. She’ll spill your guts into stew if you set a foot out of line at dinner tonight. And don’t think you can get out of it. Zashik’s already made it clear you’re expected.”

Vabani stiffened. “Who spoke to him?”

“Naz. Who else? You know she never listens.” She gave Rzhavard a smirk. “Ever had desert cuisine, Boy? If not, you’re in for a treat.”

[Your Missing Period]

RZHAVARD NALAENIR

The new voice made him jump, looking at the new, taller woman at the door. Vabani looked as frail as a twig compared to this woman. But the woman had a point. Shahszhan would have been influenced by Esedi in one way or another, Shahszhan wouldn't have been the country lost in time. It was going to grow and change with the rest of the world, an the world would influence the desert like the desert would influence the world.

"Oh, no it's not Sir, anymore. I'm not employed by the knighthood anymore. Mr. Rzhavard Nalaenir. It's nice to meet you, Zasha Ahri-Tak." he greeted, giving a small bow before standing up again.

What?!

He looked toward Vabani, hoping this was okay only to receive a shrug in return. No Vabani, no one wife already disliked him he didn't want two hating him. But the third wife didn't seem to mind, though when she stared at Rzh's hand for a moment, he quickly removed it from her stack of books. Oh, oh he could touch them? And read them? She had more books? he was about to thank her, but her threat made him stop, looking at Vabani in hopes this wasn't true, and the wink proved it wasn't.

If all the Shahszhani women were like this he wasn't going to survive. Esedian women were soft spoken and polite and he never really spoke to women a lot, once he thought about it. Mostly men. His social skills were quite lacking it seemed and he wanted to punch himself in the face for it.

Zanu and Suna, which one was which wife?

He looked between the two trying to take it in, but found himself deeply, deeply uncomfortable.

Suna, talk like nothing wrong then he'll be passed out on the floor, Zanu, Zanubiya, Vabani made her angry by undermining her? Oh! The woman that Isshin left in charge. With the odd nose piercing. Zanubiya, Vabani, Sanu, Shashara. It seemed Zanubiya was not a force to be reckoned it. She was the first wife. That made Vabani second. Zanubiya, Vabani, Shashara--

"Pardon?" He looked at her, listening. Dinner?

Slow breathing, calm, he was calm. Breathe.

"I'm afraid my knowledge is minimal, as is my Shahszhani. There was no one in my home-region that researched the desert. I'm afraid I'm not very knowledgeable at all." Which wasn't good.

Please just let him go to the stables with his camel. Having Isshinenga yell at him was fine, Vabani was a familiar face, Shashara was pushing the limit of his socialization and the man was not sure he could sit at dinner with six wives and a Zashik and not stay composed.

He was not social. That did not change.

[General Phade]

((I made some assumptions--if they don't agree with you I'm happy to change them next chance I get. cat_3nodding ))

♕ Vabani ♕

♝ Shashara ♝

It took Vabani by surprise to hear Rzhavard was no longer a knight. True, he had never seemed to care for the position much, but he had been quite the fighter, from what she had seen. It was not everyone who could so bloody her husband. But then, if he were no longer a knight...

“Did you go back to the ranch?” She paled a little at the thought. While she was certain he had not told her anything back then, she had heard and gleaned enough to have a decent grasp of how the man had grown up. And grown cold.

At least until five years ago.

Still, for him to have gone back to that home, that situation... “How... How did it go?”

“As much as I’m sure you’d like to catch up,” said Shashara, “there is much to be done to make him decent for later. We can, at the very least, not simply hand him over to Zanubiya for slaughter.” At last the woman removed herself from the doorway and stepped inside. She towered almost a full head over Vabani, and even some over Rzhavard. “Find the boy something clean to wear, would you? I can learn him the basics of what he’ll need to know.”

“Certainly.” It was a polite response, though she need not have given it--Shashara was in fact beneath Vabani in her station. Still, it was not in the second wife’s nature to be rude, and Shashara, as always, had a very valid point. The better they could prepare Rzhavard, the better their chances of keeping Isshin and Zanubiya both in a pleasant enough mood. Vabani nodded to Rzhavard and smiled. “Shashara is the scholar and instructor in our midst. She will see you never want for knowledge during your stay. I shall return shortly.”

Once she had gone, Shashara gave Rzhavard a once-over. “I’d have thought knights of Esedi, even former knights, would be taller. But then I suppose everyone looks small compared to Isshin and myself. No matter. Suna alone is a testament to the fact that size matters little. Hm...” She circled around Rzhavard like a cat stalking its prey, arms folded and a single finger curled across her lips. “You’re a simple man, aren’t you? And practical. But you have been polite and respectful, from what I’ve seen. That is good. It means you’ll be mindful of your tongue and your actions while you’re here. Especially considering your nerves.”

She laughed a little and clapped him on the back, a surprisingly strong gesture, for a woman, though to be expected considering her stature. “You will be fine, Mr. Nalaenir. Each of us is versed in Esedian. Isshin saw that it was so after we were conquered. One cannot hope to last long if they cannot understand their leaders. The servants are another matter, but we’ll learn you in proper Shahszhani soon enough. For now, though, let’s be sure you don’t do or say anything to set off our hot-tempered Zashik and his favored first wife.” Shashara pointed to the little table. “Sit.”

“Know, first, that you are not simply a guest of the Zashik, you are a man. Men in Shahszhan are considered much higher than we women, Zashas included. That said, there is a certain amount you should bow to us. A little more than a nod of your head, a little less than a full bow at the waist. Find a place between and stick to it. Such a gesture is polite and respectful without lowering yourself to us. Bow to her as you did to me, and she would be well within her rights to disrespect you, as you would have immediately placed yourself lower than her. In fact, by sitting when I told you to do so, you have placed yourself below me.”

The third wife brought a finger to smiling lips briefly before folding her arms. “It will be our secret, Sir Nalaenir,” she said, hoping to put his mind at ease. “I, at least, know you mean no disrespect towards us, and from what I have heard of you from Vabani and Isshin himself, I am certain you will be quick to rectify any mishaps you might accidentally incur.” Another smile. “They have spoken very highly of you.

“We wives will not speak to you unless you address us first, or if prompted to do so by Isshin. Zanubiya and Vabani are exceptions to that, being Ahri-Aak and Dak, respectively. Vabani will do what she can to aid you, no doubt, but Zanu outranks her. She will have to be silent if bidden to do so. You will be seated between her and Isshin, though, so take comfort in the fact that Zanubiya will have no means but her tongue to lash you with. If you escape tonight feeling only that you are a failure, you will have been fortunate.

“Other than that, there is little I can prepare you for. There are far too many customs and practices to inform you of, and I doubt you will be able to keep them all straight. I suggest you watch the rest of us tonight, and mimic us as best as you can. I also suggest,” she added, a wry little smirk crossing her face, “that you keep a wary eye on your water rations for the first few days of your stay. It is easy to overestimate your ability to tolerate your thirst. And blood does not often agree with those who are not used to consuming it.”

[Your Missing Period]

RZHAVARD NALAENIR

Vabani's question made him look over, surprised at her wide eyes. Was that fright? "...Yes?" he answered slowly. The man really had no other choice and he didn't own any land of his own. Where else was he supposed to live? True, the first year had been somewhat rocky but after that it was rather simple living for the most part. Him and his parents had apologized and forgiven one another, so there was no point in continuing to swallow that poison. Other poisons, perhaps, but no longer that one. He opened his mouth to respond to her question but the Ahri-Tak made a valid point. Rzhavard needed to very quickly learn the do's and don'ts, just enough to not be skewered alive by the Ahri-Aak. He'd really prefer not to be skewered, especially when the Zashik was already in a foul mood.

Oh, but the Ahri-Tak was the scholar, the man perked up a bit, looking at her, his own curiosity peaked. She knew much more than he did about Shahszhan, and even other aspects he hadn't considered about the desert. He was a little excited, standing still as she circled him. He did chuckle at his height. "Yes well, different builds for different jobs, I suspect. I wasn't as offensive as some knights." he explained, turning his head to keep his eye on her. What was she looking at? She was analyzing him? Rzhavard did consider himself simple enough, even back home he didn't delve in to luxuries, and yes he considered himself practical as well. His grandmother taught him to be polite and respectful (even if he had nothing but ill words to speak). "I'll try to be more subtle about my nerves." he said softly, but silenced himself when the hand pat his back. Even his brother didn't do that!

The man moved his shoulders back, stretching almost as he checked how his back was. It was fine, just, unexpected. "I do not wish to trouble you by constantly speaking Esedian." he admitted, sitting down and crossing his legs. "So I'm thankful your or someone will teach me Shahszhani." He didn't really want to trouble them, especially since Esedi was the topic of the civil war. The faster he learned Shahszhani the faster he stopped troubling them (though his presence was trouble enough, really).

He stayed silent for the rest of Shashara's talk, making mental notes. Men were higher than the Zashas (which was crazy in his opinion but he'd respect it). Do not bow to a Zasha from the waist, perhaps he could bow at the stomach, just a small sort of bending motion, but not at the waist. Not an actual bow but more than a nod at the head. Doing that sort of bow would make Zanubiya hopefully bite her tongue for a few seconds. "What? Oh, I'm sorry." he apologized. istening to the Zasha meant he was subordinate to the Zasha. This was not Esedi, despite her being a noble woman, him as a rancher was still higher than her. He had to remember that. "Would I follow the Ahri-Aaks orders? I'll admit I'm not comfortable being above the Zashas, let alone the first wife." Let's put him above her where she could glare at him. That was safe. "It certainly is different than Esedi." but he could take it.

The man felt the tips of his ears hit up a bit. Vabani and Isshinenga spoke of him? Hopefully it was not about the man's scars, as proud as Rzh was for those even five years later. He hoped he didn't have to fight the man again while here, or anyone for sport. He hadn't practiced in so long, and those raiders were certainly very evasive. But back to taking notes.

Zashas only spoke when spoken to, minus the first and second wife, or unless the Zashik told them to speak. Zanubiya could tell Vabani to be quiet, meaning he'd have to watch carefully about his manners. He would be seated between Vabani and Isshin (thank the gods). If he walked out feeling terrible then he was let off easily, so then let's home for being let off terribly and guiltily.

"Since I am to attend dinner, is it possible for you to inform me the basic etiquette while eating meals in Shahszhan? I know in some parts of Tishtar it's polite to refuse a drink the first time, letting the other insist before accepting it. My neighbor's have a tradition where you do not eat all the food, because it tells the wife that the meal was so good you filled yourself." Penny had to inform him ahead of time, not that he ate much anyway. "Do you use utensils or hands? Are the utensils like that of Esedi or like the weird, sticks, of Tishtar? How much water is rationed? Is it possible that the closer I get towards the end of my water rations I start mixing in camels blood so that I slowly introduce it to my stomach? This way I won't be sick when I have to drink the blood straight from the tap?" He felt bad for asking so many questions, but he really didn't want to mess up. He liked his head on his shoulders where it belonged and not on a pike.

[General Phade]

♕ Vabani ♕

♝ Shashara ♝

“You are aware of your use, then,” said Shashara. “That’s good. Everyone and everything in Shahszhan is useful or dead weight. Emphasis on dead. Even we Zashas have roles and responsibilities to attend to--we were all taken for very different reasons.”

“And offense is something that is grossly over-exaggerated. Our warriors have become all about muscle and less about thought, as of late. It’s troubling. ” She looked away for a moment, eyes narrowing in thought. “Perhaps,” she said, tapping a finger against her chin, “we could rectify that situation, while you are here... Hm...”

Turning away for a moment, Shashara closed the door and knelt upon the floor across from Rzhavard, keeping her hands folded neatly in her lap.

“It is troublesome, but then it’s not your fault that Esedi did not much care to learn our language while we were a part of it. If there was no one to teach it, how could there be anyone to learn? But language, Mr. Nalaenir, is not something to be picked up as easily as a book. It will be difficult and tedious, and you can expect us to make some bizarre faces when your Esedian tongue taints our words some. But if you are willing to learn, I am more than willing to teach. In exchange, you can teach me more of Esedi. Being a Zasha, I have never had the opportunity to travel there myself.” She frowned a little, looking away once more for just a brief moment before fixing Rzhavard with a stare. “I do suggest you very quickly learn how to count to six. Unless given permission to address us otherwise, you are to refer to we Zashas by our full titles. And for the record, earning the right to be allowed to refer to us by name is no small feat.”

Shashara actually snorted when Rzhavard expressed discomfort over being held in higher regard than the Zashas. Truly this man was something else, even among his own. Whether that would be helpful or a hindrance remained to be seen.

“Comfort is of little concern to we Shahszhani. That is one idea I suggest you accept and get used to quickly. It’s one reason we despise many of your ways; Esedians are pampered and grow fat off their land. We of Shahszhan do not. We cannot. The desert is harsh, but delicate. It can only provide for so many. That’s why our food and water are rationed so much. Even our numbers are carefully regulated, that our resources might be distributed in such a way that they might provide for all who live under the Zashik’s banner.”

“And for a while, anyway, you can expect a fair bit of that discomfort.” She went so far as to lean forward and pinch his reddened ear. Still, she offered him a small smile. “I assure, Mr. Nalaenir, they had only kind words to speak. But you are new here. You are exotic. You will be stared at, watched, and, on the part of we Zashas, at least, bombarded with questions. I suspect the warriors will want to know what you can do as well. Best that you expect some challenges. Whether or not you participate in them is up to you--your rank gives you the right to refuse, but if you’re here to help us, as you told the Zashik, it would be for the best if you didn’t.”

“She can be so pushy.” Vabani slipped into the room, a small pile of folded clothes in her arms. Kneeling beside Shashara, she laid them before Rzhavard and took a similar position to the third wife. “You do as you please, Mr. Nalaenir. We wouldn’t dare ask you to do something you didn’t wish to.”

While she said nothing further on the matter, Shashara narrowed her gaze just a little bit at her soon-to-be student.

Both women frowned when he spoke of the Esedian customs of etiquette.

“That is... interesting.”

“It’s utter nonsense,” said Shashara, sitting up just a little bit straighter. “If something is refused, it means it is not wanted. If something is insisted, it means you are being pushy. If the food offered you is good, why would you not eat it? Know this, Mr. Nalaenir. Shahszhani do not play such silly games. Here it is best to say exactly what you mean, and nothing more.”

“Your honesty is one of the reasons Isshin took to you so quickly.”

“As for the order of power...” The Zasha trailed off. This was a lot of information she was giving him. It wouldn’t do to confuse him with all the nuance and finer details of Shahszhani culture. All she had to do was get him through dinner, after all. “A moment.” She stood just long enough to sweep over to the table and sift through her books. She pulled from one of them a scrap of papyrus and a piece of charcoal before returning to her place beside Vabani. She folded the sheet in half before setting to work.

“Best that you have something to look at for something so detailed. The best way to examine this is to look at it as if it were a recently-fed serpent. The head, obviously, is the Zashik.” She wrote the word on either side of the paper’s fold, one side in Esedian, the other in Shahszhani. “He rules Shahszhan, and all Shahszhani answer to him. Immediately beneath him are his personal guests and we Zashas. In this case, you.” She gave him a quick glance to check that he understood. He seemed bright enough, but it was easy to get confused with the intricacies of the Shahszhani ways. “In this instance you are considered higher than us because you are a guest of the Zashik, who is higher than us. If you were to be, say, the Ahri-Dak’s personal guest,” and here she motioned to Vabani, “you would be beneath Zanubiya, but above myself and the other wives.”

“For the moment,” said Vabani, “you are actually considered a guest of Nazama. She is the one who convinced our Zashik to allow you to stay for dinner. That puts you below all of us save Mammara.”

Shashara sighed, continuing to write the list of who was above whom in Shahzhani culture. She had long ago forgotten just how complicated this system could be. Living in it was one thing. Explaining it to a foreigner was another. “For simplicity’s sake, you should obey the orders of everyone but Mammara. So yes, you should obey orders given to you by Zanubiya.”

“But you should not obey anything Mammara might try to order of you,” said Vabani. She is beneath Nazama, and is actually on the same...” She notably pursed her lips behind her veil and turned to Shashara. “What is the word in Esedian?”

“Tier.” The third wife did not look up from her scribblings. Sadly it seemed her analogy of a recently-fed snake only worked when the list was written in Shahszhani. Too many occupations were considered on the same tiers for Esedian writing to make the image work. “Basically you obey anyone above you and ignore everyone equal to or below you.”

“Well, not ignore...”

Shashara gave a subtle roll of her eyes before addressing Rzhavard’s string of questions. “Hands, irrelevant, varies by age, gender, and occupation, and yes, though I suggest you do it sooner than when your rations run low. You will need it for things other than drinking.” Nodding to the stack of fabrics Vabani had brought, Shashara turned her attention to the second wife. “Shall I bring his current clothing to the beaters for you, Ahri-Dak?”

Vabani smiled. “If you would not mind?”

“Not at all.” Shashara set her lists down beside the new clothes and stood. Vabani mimicked her, and both wives gave a small bow. “It was good to meet you, Sir Nalaenir. Look to me tonight, if you need aid. I will do what I can.”

“Fetch us when you have finished changing,” said Vabani, following Shashara out of the room. “You and I can visit Alfalfa.”

[Your Missing Period]

RZHAVARD NALAENIR

The warriors had become nothing but muscle? Like, incredibly offensive or just lifting and making themselves look larger? That wasn't... efficient. If there were riots and a soon to be civil war (despite the beginnings of one underway already) then having muscles men with no ability to fight or defend wasn't smart. It would be a brutal, primitive battle that would last until one side tired out first. If the Ahri-Tak was suggesting he teach the men how to fight, he'd do it, he wouldn't be too fond of having to fight men bigger than himself but he'd done it before. Especially if Shahszhani men were as hard to fight as the Zashik. Rzhavard clearly remembered five years ago, that man fought well.

Rzhavard agreed with the Ahri-Tak, though. No one in Esedi wanted to learn about Shahszhan, and no one there knew much about the desert, so it was hard to continue learning and practicing. And the language most certainly was not easy, what little he knew he had taken a while to learn, and they were the most basic of phrases. He couldn't even count. He knew how to ask questions, and not even full sentences, just enough to get his point across. "I would be more than happy to teach you what I know about Esedi. My knowledge is limited though, my status has been no higher than a guard, and the politics changed after the trials. And I am lucky enough to count to two, since the Ahri-Dak is the second wife, and the Ahri-Aak is the first wife. And you are the Ahri-Tak, but I don't know which number Tak is." But he was still an idiot, really, ignorant of their--

Ow.

He blushed harder when his ear was pinched, avoiding looking at her and reaching up to rub his ear. He was exotic? He wanted to question why, but he supposed he was as exotic to them in their land as they were as exotic to him in his land. Of course he should expect questions, now he felt guilty realizing how many questions he'd bombarded Vabani and the rest of the caravan with, and now he was going to get all of that here. They had so much patience with him, he would have the same amount of patience in return. "If your warriors wish to fight, I will fight." he said with a nod. Though whether he'd use his rapiers or not was questionable. He did not want to harm them.

Hearing the shorter woman made him chuckle, looking up at her again, smiling at her and the clothes. "Thank you." So many vibrant colors in Shahszhan. Not quite red, not quite purple. That was fascinating. "I do not lie, so I will be fully honest with everyone to the best of my ability." Or try to, some things you sort of danced around but never lied about.

At the mention of order the blue eyes refocused on the woman, Rzhavard sitting up straight again from his slouched position. He wanted to point out that her trying to draw it out might be difficult, since they live in two very different worlds but held his tongue. It was a little rude, but he didn't want to act like he knew more than her when he didn't.

"I'm afraid I don't know any of the names of the other Zashas, so I do not know who Zasha Mammara is or Zasha Nazama." he paused a moment, "Sorry. My apologies. The Zashas. Titles come before names in Esedi. I'll stop that. My apologies, again. But obey everyone's orders but Mammara, the Zasha" he mentally kicked himself for that. Goddammit stop referring to them by their names. "understood." But then they spoke again, Rzhavard listening before repeating it again to help ingrain it. "Listen to anyone above me. if they're on my tier or lower, do not follow orders. Got it."

Then the rest was answering questions. They ate with their hands, water was rationed by age, gender and occupation and rationed water was used for more than drinking (perhaps he should start the blood mixing once 1/3 of his ration was gone).

"It was nice to meet you too, Zasha Ahri-Tak." and gave the not-quite-a-bow to her, bending at the stomach area instead of the waist. Not quite a nod of the head and not quite a bow. "And I will, thank you for the clothes." and waited for them to leave before tripping, removing the cloth covering his head and shaking out his hair. God this heat was making him sweat. He wiped himself down with the old clothes, taking a moment to cool off before putting on the new ones and folding the others before... staring. Did he walk out and give them to her? Would that be disrespectful? It probably would he had to take orders from her. Did he leave them there? He stared at them, conflicted. Maybe if he just left them folded, right there, in a obvious enough to be noticed but not obvious enough to call attention to me sort of spot, right there by the table. Was that okay? He didn't know. he did his own laundry back home.

He eventually stood up, nudging the clothes a little closer to the table with his foot before walking out. "again, thank you very much, for taking my clothes to the beaters." it was sort of mumbled, the man looking away as he did his not-really-a-bow bow towards the Ahri-Tak. He felt, like a child. The only way to learn Shahszhani was to use it, but he didn't want to mess it up. Wasn't that how you learned, though? Fail your way to success? "Shekher Tah." and quickly turned away, fighting the embarrassed heat on his fate before looking at Vabani.

"Which way to the stables? I want to make sure Alfalfa hasn't harassed the handlers, he's so temperamental about strangers, even when he was little he didn't take to my family instantly." and followed her as she led the way. "I'm not sure why he's so grumpy with everyone, he's gotten somewhat better but he still attempts to bite people or chase after them. Gods know he's done it to me and my parents and brother on multiple occasions. I've wondered if he likes running, but when I try to get him to run he just stares at me as though I've grown two heads. He adapted well to Goldvale too." and kept babbling about the camel, which was practically the closest thing Rzhavard would probably ever get to a child. How it was temperamental, how it grew, how it still kept a camel like diet despite being raised around cows and horses, and boy did he not like horses, he had to get his own pen after a while he kept chasing other animals. At least until the cows started fighting back did Alfalfa attempt to learn his place.

And getting to the stables, Alfalfa was looking very, very pleased with himself, chewing cud and only had his back half in the stall. Rzhavard looked around for signs of damage or someone dead. "I know you did something." the man said, glancing around once more before stroking the long face. "All right. up up, let's show Vabani how tall you've gotten. Yes I know I'm the most terrible person in the world, just for a few seconds" was the response to the loud complaint, the beast soon standing, taking a few steps towards the woman and looked away from her with his grumpy face.

"He's just tired. He's been walking a lot for the past week. All right, you can rest again." and the camel bent back down, taking up the walkway and kept chewing. "Let's get my things off of you. What do you think? I'm still not sure how to raise a camel, but I think I did all right for my first try. Minus his social skills." and started removing the few bags he had tied up on him, setting them down and working on the home-made saddle.

[General Phade]

♕ Vabani ♕

♝ Shashara ♝

Shashara scoffed and waved her hand in indifference. “Politics are simple things, when all is said and done. I am far more interested in the day-to-day lives of your people. What good is it to know of your politics when few, if any of we Shahszhani will have a part in them? The same holds true here. Esedians need not learn of our politics if all they wish to do is coexist with us. You can coexist without knowing the proper means by which the next Zashik is chosen, but you cannot live amongst us if you aren’t aware of the proper way to offer prayer and tribute to the Great Ones, or if you fail to grasp the concept of proper greetings and haggling practices.” She chuckled when he started to count. When was the last time she had laid eyes on a sight so adorably innocent? She was starting to see why Vabani was so taken with the lad.

“Tak, Mr. Nalaenir, is three.” She held up her hand, raising one for each number beginning with her little finger and working toward her thumb. “Aak, dak, tak, pak, cal, sal. What comes before remains the same--always Zasha Ahri, where Zasha means ‘wife of the Zashik’ and the prefix ‘ahri’ turns the number that follows it into a listing. One becomes first, two becomes second, and so on.”

“That places me as the third wife. Suna is fourth, Nazama is fifth, and Mammara is sixth. I don’t recommend guessing which is which based upon how they appear--I may be the third wife, but I am older than Zanubiya by some years.”

She returned his bow with one of her own, admittedly impressed by how quickly he seemed to assimilate the heap of knowledge she had thrown upon him. The wheels began to turn in Shashara’s keen mind, and even before she straightened up, a plan as how to use this clever Esedian had formed.

“I know that look,” said Vabani, folding her hands in front of her while the two of them waited outside Rzhavard’s room. “You have a plan.”

“I do,” said the third wife. “But there are details to work out first. And quickly. I only hope Mr. Nalaenir will be keen to agree to it.”

“If it will help Shahszhan, I have no doubt he will.”

“You sound confident,” said Shashara, offering her better a nod of acknowledgement. “And he seems to be a good lad. If I can present this idea to our Zashik come dinner, we may even be able to win over Zanubiya, at least for a little while.” She frowned. “I worry about her. I worry how she claims to be faithful to Zashik when it is well known she is a Purist at heart.”

“You worry for nothing. You and I both know Zanu is more loyal to Isshin than even the Hashishin.”

“Hmph. Not all of us can function on faith alone.” When Rzhavard emerged again she gave a slight tilt of her head. The pronunciation was passable, though not perfect. Still, it gave her an idea of where she would have to begin with him come. “Until tonight, Mr. Nalaenir.” She stepped into the room to retrieve his old clothes.

It took Vabani a second to realize she was being spoken to. The moment Rzhavard had appeared, she found herself staring at him. It had been some years since the clothing she’d given him had been worn by anyone. And, oddly, it seemed to suit him well. The second wife fought back fleeting memories and composed herself, leading the way to the stables.

She said little, listening to Rzhavard ramble on about his beloved camel. She had known those five years ago giving the little one to him was a good choice. He may not have wanted to admit it, and he might still not wish to, but he was really such a gentle soul at heart.

Despite herself, she had to laugh when he questioned the grumpy nature of his camel. Not one of her demure little chuckles, either, but a straight up laugh. Oh, the things she could say to that. But she let it go, grinning behind her veil while he went on and on. When at last they reached the stables and the offending beast, Vabani held back. She waited with folded hands while Rzhavard roused his beast.

“Oh, you sweet little thing,” she said, reaching for the camel even after it turned its head away. She slipped her hand under its giant head and patted the side of its face she couldn’t see, urging it to look at her. The beast obeyed, if begrudgingly, and then saw fit to nudge her a little. Vabani laughed again. “Little beast,” she said, hugging its head for a moment. She set her face against the camel’s and stroked the fluff of its head. Then, in Shahszhani, she spoke to it. “You’ve taken wonderful care of your master, too, Little One. Thank you for that. He’s a dear,” she added, to Rzhavard and in Esedian this time. “Camels very seldom have any kind of social skills anyway. That is why I thought one a fitting match for you.”

Backing away from the beast, Vabani picked up one or two of Rzhavard’s smaller bags. “What did you bring with you? Did you make the saddle yourself? How very strange! I’ve never seen one put on a camel before. What have you been doing in Esedi since we left it? How are things... how are things at home? Oh, look at me, prattling on. I am sorry, but...” She flushed a little. “I have been worried.”

[Your Missing Period]

RZHAVARD NALAENIR

Sweet little thing his a**. Alfalfa was as grumpy and as anti-social as they came. He'd chase and harass any cows that came near him, attempted to stomp on any wandering dogs and then bit at his family. Even know he was making that face of not wanting to do something, but he seemed to listen to Vabani and turned to face her. Ah the displeasure, Rzhavard could only hope that he did not attempt to bite the fabric on her head. He really didn't want to have to defend Alfalfa to Isshinenga. But then again, Vabani had been around camels all her life, she knew how to handle them more so than the Esedian. "See? Even she thinks you're a beast." the man teased, taking the saddle off and setting it down, removing the blanket that was underneath it. The Zasha started to speak to the beast in Shahszhani, Rzh listening even though he didn't understand. He wasn't listening to the words, not entirely, he was listening to pronunciations, repeating them in his head. Of course, it was one thing to say it in your head and another to say it out loud. There was a lot of, oh how did he describe it? The noise you make when there's mucus in your throat and you try to get it out. Lots of that. "At least one of us tried to work on their social skills the past five years. If he's not talking to me he's just glaring at the cows." But today the man learned his social skills were lacking much more than he thought.

Moving inside the stable he put the somewhat folded blanket and the saddle on the small wall there, balancing it. He wish there was a hook to hang it from, looking around. He didn't really want to let it balance, and he didn't wish to put it on the floor. "It is. I attempted to ride bareback and realized I had no earthly idea how. so I had to try and create a saddle for him to rest on his hump, but he didn't like it directly on it so I had to use a blanket. I had to train him to get used to it. Have him wear it a few times a week, walk around for a few hours." he ended up bringing it out to Vabani, leaving the blanket. "It's just simple wood, had to bend and curve it to fit his hump, and it fits like a glove, now. I kept on making new ones as he grew. Underneath it, he flipped it over, showing the curved underside with a small cushion as well. "It used to be flat on the bottom but he'd bellow until I removed it, so I curved it a bit so it wouldn't press down on him so much and added a cushion, though it's worn down now. Again, it hugs his hump. He's all right with it now, I suspect he won't be wearing it for a while. But it's actually two pieces. This curved under-piece, and then the top one is flat, but curved so I could nail it to the underside, or the underside to it, really. He'd rather a nail stab him than Alfalfa, but the wood was thick enough. "Then the knobs which are attached to the pieces that hug him. Just enough to grab on to so I don't fall. The back one has a ledge, this way if I tied rope to it the rope wouldn't slide off." and smiled a bit at his own work before going to put it away again.

"As for what I brought. One bag is food and water for myself, some tinder with it because the desert gets incredibly cold at night. I'm so grateful I was prepared for it somewhat." A wool blanket was rolled and tied up, and it was all he had so he'd slept right up against Alfalfa. Honestly, blazing hot during the day, mildly comfortable during the mornings and evenings, then cold enough to die. "There's also a very rough map in it, getting from Fovoham to here. It wasn't the most helpful but it was a good outline. I had a bale of hay for Alfalfa, but he refused to eat it the first two days of travel, then the third he devoured it all, and he has't eaten since. I did share my water with him, though he ignored that for the most part. But I suppose that's why he has a hump, right? Stores fat, and he chews cud like the cows do." he checked his bags real quick, making sure he didn't lose anything on the trip here. Food, whatever was left of his water, tinder, map. That bag was good, second bag. "This second one is just another pairs of boots, hair brush, sword polish," s**t he forgot to put his swords on, he'd left them on the cot. Oh Paranoia how wonderful to see you again. he had some faith he wouldn't be attacked despite being a pale-faced Esedian and the cause of this civil war. "I'll need to go get my swords. Oh!" he pulled out a small rectangle, loosely wrapped in a brown burlap and offered it to Vabani. "I remembered that we discussed snow once, so I commissioned a painter to paint those." Two paintings, both no larger than the size of one's hand. One was a painting of Goldvale in a snowy winter, with people dressed for the weather and lights and lanterns everywhere, and the other just farmland blanketed in snow against the gray winter sky. "So, that's snow. It's much better than what I could describe."

He smiled a bit as she mentioned she was worried. "You've had no need to worry, Vabani. Once the trials were over I quit and retired to my father's ranch so I could raise Alfalfa. I can assure you the first few days I was there they wouldn't let me sleep in the house. My father was furious, my mother was furious, my brother was happy to see me but it was just, days, of yelling. I'd forgotten I could yell so loudly, that I could yell from my stomach. We just yelled and argued for days, during meals, he wouldn't let me work on the ranch so I stayed in the stables with Alfalfa but just, so much yelling." He truly had forgotten how loud he could yell. Many people told him that he was yelling when he was raising his voice, and now he could see why. "After that week we were exhausted, I suppose it's what we needed because everything came out, my feelings on them, them of me, decisions, bad decisions, good decisions, me sending money, it came out. Then we apologized and forgave each other, I stil slept in the stables though Alfalfa was not comfortable alone, and was too young to be alone." he nodded at the memory. "Then me, my brother and my father worked on the ranch. My brother was still young so there was some things he couldn't do, and my father was getting old so his joints won't let him do other things, and here I am in perfect, trained condition." he laughed a bit, moving his weight onto his left leg. "I helped a lot. I repaired fences, cleaned horse hooves and cow hooves, fed them, made adjustments to the house. I worked a lot for the first few months, good, muscle burning work. I'd missed that, you don't get that being a knight. You have to wear armor to even attempt to feel that burn while training, speaking of which mine was stolen by raiders, but moving on," the armor was long gone by now, anyway.

"After the first few months Penelope came to check on my mother and I'd guessed we'd all been so busy welcoming me home and working that we'd forgotten to tell her. She's gained some weight thanks to motherhood but she looked lovely. She also got very good at slapping, but after abusing me and slapping me a bit we started talking again. of course then I had to introduce herself to her husband and prove I wasn't trying to steal his wife. After that though we were friends again, though now she stopped climbing my fence and walked around like a proper adult." he thought a bit, looking down at the ground before running his hand through his hair and looking up, laughing a bit. "A lot happens in five years. She has 3 children now, all boys, I'm an Uncle to my sisters' children, Margaret has 6 and Anabeth has four, working on five. My brother is courting a lovely young woman, the butcher's daughter, her name is Rachel. he's seventeen now, can you believe that? Seventeen and already a man." more chuckling, "he doesn't like me being around her, I tell embarrassing stories. But what else... Aside from working on the ranch I'm learning to build furniture. I do easy things, fences, chairs, shelves, tables. Anything with decoration takes me a bit longer. I'm learning, it's busy work. I still read in my spare time, I still learn. I have a bookshelf full of books, childrens books for my nieces and nephews, my own books for studying." He sighed, looking up now, still trying to think, but soon he gave a grin and laughed, "So much has happened, Vabani, I could speak for hours about it. But for the most part that has been my life. Working, babysitting, reading, family. Family is good." he nodded again, smiling a crooked smile, "The family is good."

[General Phade]

Vabani ☀ The Ruby of the Sands

Vabani said nothing while Rzhavard spoke. It was something that had been rare, back then. Certainly he spoke to her, but rarely so freely, or about such subjects. She looked at the saddle, nodding an understanding she didn’t quite have while he explained how it worked--craftsmanship had never quite been her forte. But he seemed so very proud of his work, and so she wasn’t about to say anything that might cause him to deflate, even a little.

She took the paintings he offered her, gazing down at the scenes displayed within them. So much white! The Zasha traced her fingers over the brushstrokes, feeling them against her soft skin. This was nothing like how he described, and nothing like she had ever even considered imagining. Switching between the painting of Goldvale to that of the farmlands, she had to admit to herself that it was another type of desert entirely. One where the ground was cold and wet rather than hot and dry, where impressions seemed to last instead of being blown away in a mere instant.

“I should like to see this in person, sometime,” she mused.

Looking up again as he spoke, her smile faded just a bit when he described the first week of his return to the ranch. Such troubles this man had. But her worries quickly dissipated when he went on to say things had vastly improved. His family was family again, and it brought her more joy than she had once thought she would never feel again. It was all she could have hoped for him and more, and it was all she could do to fight back the tears of joy that threatened to overwhelm her when it seemed that the only face he was capable of making when speaking of his family was one that smiled and loved and felt. Back then he had been so alone, and so very detached. Standing before him now, listening to the words he spoke to her, she had to admit that he had changed drastically over the span of five years. He was a completely different person.

It was almost a bittersweet thought.

He was in the midst of speaking of Penelope, the girl he had once told her about, when movement drew her gaze to the space behind him. A pair of hands reached down from the ceiling, and long fingers wrapped around the edges of Alfalfa’s saddle. In an impressive display of upper body strength, the limber woman with hair dyed red pulled herself back up to the beam between stalls. She shifted the saddle in her hands, staring at it from a number of different angles.

Vabani opened her mouth to speak, but Rzhavard went on to speak of his sisters and their children. She kept her hands folded in front of her, stealing glances at the woman whenever Rzhavard looked away. When at last he finished, she opened her mouth to speak again.

“Family is always a good thing.”

The words were not hers. From behind her came a two sets of footsteps. She turned just enough to see a pair of women approach then, one in a robe of dark teal, the other in silver. They each gave Rzhavard a small bow of acknowledgement, though the woman in silver’s was a lower bow than her teal companion.

“Regardless of the troubles you might face when dealing with them,” said the woman in teal, a smile apparent in those bright eyes, “family is family.” Without any goading, she reached out and took Rzhavard’s hand between her own. “It is good to know there are those in Esedi who understand this.”

“It’s so hard to find a good family man, too,” the one in silver teased. She folded her hands on the teal woman’s shoulder and rested her chin upon them. The pose did wonders to flaunt her figure, and every woman present knew it. Tilting her head a little, dark locks tumbled over the silver woman’s shoulders. “Shahszhani men are so very detached.”

Vabani sighed and rolled her eyes. Still, a small smile graced her lips. “Rzhavard,” she said, motioning to the women. “This is Zasha Ahri-Cal, Nazama, and Zasha Ahri-Sal, Mammara.”

Teal and silver nodded at their respective introductions.

“And that,” said Vabani, nodding to the woman still perched above the camel, “is Zasha Ahri-Pak, Suna.”

The red-headed woman looked up from her inspection of the saddle. She swung a lean and tattooed leg over the beam she sat upon and leapt from her perch, landing lightly beside Alfalfa. Unlike the other, she bore minimal clothing of a reddish-orange hue, just enough to cover the more sacred parts of her body. Striding over to Rzhavard and the wives, she was far shorter than the rest, and more heavily tattooed and scarified. She gave a single, sharp nod to Rzhavard before handing the homemade saddle to Nazama. Then she snatched the paintings from Vabani’s hand and looked them over, stepping out of the circle as she did so.

“How clever,” said Nazama, looking over the saddle. “This ingenuity is not often seen from the craftsmen of Shahszhan.” She offered Rzhavard a brief nod and smile. “They like to stick with what they know, these stubborn men of ours.”

“It makes it so very boring.”

“You, Mammara, are always bored. Look at the stitching here on the cushion! It is different from ours. And the fabric. And this is wood? I’ve never seen it used like this before. Much of our materials come from the camels and the other beasts of the sands. This is quite a piece.”

“He’s quite a piece,” said Mammara, winking at Rzhavard. “All those women and children in your life though, and none of them are yours? How is that even possible, I ask?”

“Mammara,” Vabani warned. Then she looked to Rzhavard. “Anyway, after Shashara, the order here is Suna--”the redheaded woman stepped forward, returned the paintings to Vabani, nodded to Rzhavard, and sauntered off-- “Nazama, and Mammara. And that is all of us, save Zanubiya.”

“You don’t want to meet her,” said Mammara.

“She’s really a lovely woman,” said Nazama. “She just has high expectations for everyone.”

“More like unreachable expectations.”

Zashas,” Vabani said sternly. “That is enough. What brings you here, at any rate?”

“We wanted to see Naz’s guest, of course,” said Mammara.

“I did wish to apologize,” said Nazama, looking sheepishly to Vabani. “I did not mean to make things awkward by speaking to Isshin. It just... seemed so very rude to send him on his way when he came with the desire to help.” She nodded once more to Rzhavard. “It is appreciated more than you know.”

♘ Suna ♘

♗ Nazama ♗

♞ Mammara ♞