Setting
The Grand Market is the nerve centre of the merchant classes of R????e, and it shows. A million scents assail the air ??? spikenard and asarabacca, bergamot and caroli, gum mastic, paprika and saffron more precious than gold, roasting meat and sputtering vegetables from the spice emporia and the cookshop vendors.
The Market colours hit the eye like a firework, after the cool white marble, blue roofing tiles and green plants of the rest of the city; cedarwood and sandarac stacked high by blocks of myrrh, Tyrian purple pigments in seductive piles, alongside brilliant carmine and lapis, indigo and euxanthine, all the colours of the rainbow.
The sounds of the Market, too, are valuable bellwethers of the merchantiers??? mood ??? the screeching of the hawkers, the buy-and-sell patter of the vendors, the creaking of the carts and the protests of the draught animals all commingle into a rising and falling hubbub, dependent on the merchantiers at the heart of it all.
The centrepoint of the Market district, around which all the other, lesser shops cluster, is the gargantuan Springwater Square. Easily the largest such plaza in the city, its centrepiece is an enormous drinking fountain in the shape of the Montclair dragon and Basilton???s three mermaids, around which hundreds of stalls and more permanent stores cluster. The Shambling Gate, through which much of the produce enters from the surrounding farms to be sold in the Market, is just to the north of Springwater Square.
Closer to the river are the slave markets and their associated pens, ranging from the elegant and perfumed to the dank and foetid.
The Market colours hit the eye like a firework, after the cool white marble, blue roofing tiles and green plants of the rest of the city; cedarwood and sandarac stacked high by blocks of myrrh, Tyrian purple pigments in seductive piles, alongside brilliant carmine and lapis, indigo and euxanthine, all the colours of the rainbow.
The sounds of the Market, too, are valuable bellwethers of the merchantiers??? mood ??? the screeching of the hawkers, the buy-and-sell patter of the vendors, the creaking of the carts and the protests of the draught animals all commingle into a rising and falling hubbub, dependent on the merchantiers at the heart of it all.
The centrepoint of the Market district, around which all the other, lesser shops cluster, is the gargantuan Springwater Square. Easily the largest such plaza in the city, its centrepiece is an enormous drinking fountain in the shape of the Montclair dragon and Basilton???s three mermaids, around which hundreds of stalls and more permanent stores cluster. The Shambling Gate, through which much of the produce enters from the surrounding farms to be sold in the Market, is just to the north of Springwater Square.
Closer to the river are the slave markets and their associated pens, ranging from the elegant and perfumed to the dank and foetid.
The Grand Market
The beating mercantile heart of the Imperial Capital, centred on Springwater Square.
Minimap
northwest |
north |
northeast |
west |
You are here. |
east |
southwest |
south |
southeast |
The Grand Market is a part of 
The Imperial City.
Setting
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At this rate, the red-head thought, pushing a shock of copper from her green eyes, I may as well be paid for the disapproving stares, rather than the deed itself.
All things considered...it wasn't as if she were a real prostitute.
The title was entirely unofficial. Hardly even a title, really. If someone wanted to give her the name, of course, she wouldn't object. Getting paid for what one was good at was hardly an insult. So for the moment, her primary export was...joy. In a physical sense. Well, perhaps not joy so much as elation. But whatever the name, whatever the job, it was really more of a hobby...a talent.
Or practice.
In any case, if she got paid, she wasn't exactly going to return the money. That was just plain rude.
Yes, she supposed she could look a little more...lady-like. Standing on a corner in the Grand Market, hair lifted off her neck, skirts hiked far too high to be anything but promiscuous (well, it was warm out! What was a girl to do?), eating an apple and sucking the juice from her fingers...it was nothing like what Vesni would do, and she had little doubt if her twin happened upon her now, she'd receive quite the upbraiding, good natured as it might be.
However, as was long ago discovered by anyone who knew her, Kaysen Lestat was far from lady-like. Aside from having the appropriate parts--and even those were nearly balanced out by her well-muscled arms--Kaysen had not the posture, demeanor, or rhetoric to be a lady. The strawberry-blonde was more than content to spend her days on the farm, and as a messenger in the square (even now, in the most inappropriate garb), even as her sister settled into the rich life the rest of their family was now enjoying vicariously.
But Kaysen was a girl of many lifestyles, and many secrets. Yes, now she posed as though waiting for someone to give her something to deliver (she'd far outgrown the typical age for being a messenger, especially as a woman, but most knew, or at least suspected by now she was delivering far more than formal words), but her mind was on one thing, and that was the ultimate destination of said 'message'.
After standing in the sun, she wouldn't look her best (not that she'd put in much effort in the morning; she was still getting the hang of rouge, lipstick, and the like), but she was more than certain he wouldn't care. That was strange, she thought. After three years, she'd have guessed the relationship would become more physical, and yet she'd noticed in the last months a good deal of...talking had been done. She wasn't sure what to make of it, but as long as she was paid, and he was happy, she decided she didn't much care.
Yes, that particular service would likely occupy the rest of her day--it was warm enough for a messenger girl to be invited in for chilled wine and fruit--but her job was far from over.
Kay had one more thing to attend to before she retired, and the thought of it, as usual, sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. With a small, anxious grin, she fingered the deadly dagger strapped to her thigh, buried beneath skirts and petticoats, and coated in fatal poison.
The life of a farm girl was never boring.
All things considered...it wasn't as if she were a real prostitute.
The title was entirely unofficial. Hardly even a title, really. If someone wanted to give her the name, of course, she wouldn't object. Getting paid for what one was good at was hardly an insult. So for the moment, her primary export was...joy. In a physical sense. Well, perhaps not joy so much as elation. But whatever the name, whatever the job, it was really more of a hobby...a talent.
Or practice.
In any case, if she got paid, she wasn't exactly going to return the money. That was just plain rude.
Yes, she supposed she could look a little more...lady-like. Standing on a corner in the Grand Market, hair lifted off her neck, skirts hiked far too high to be anything but promiscuous (well, it was warm out! What was a girl to do?), eating an apple and sucking the juice from her fingers...it was nothing like what Vesni would do, and she had little doubt if her twin happened upon her now, she'd receive quite the upbraiding, good natured as it might be.
However, as was long ago discovered by anyone who knew her, Kaysen Lestat was far from lady-like. Aside from having the appropriate parts--and even those were nearly balanced out by her well-muscled arms--Kaysen had not the posture, demeanor, or rhetoric to be a lady. The strawberry-blonde was more than content to spend her days on the farm, and as a messenger in the square (even now, in the most inappropriate garb), even as her sister settled into the rich life the rest of their family was now enjoying vicariously.
But Kaysen was a girl of many lifestyles, and many secrets. Yes, now she posed as though waiting for someone to give her something to deliver (she'd far outgrown the typical age for being a messenger, especially as a woman, but most knew, or at least suspected by now she was delivering far more than formal words), but her mind was on one thing, and that was the ultimate destination of said 'message'.
After standing in the sun, she wouldn't look her best (not that she'd put in much effort in the morning; she was still getting the hang of rouge, lipstick, and the like), but she was more than certain he wouldn't care. That was strange, she thought. After three years, she'd have guessed the relationship would become more physical, and yet she'd noticed in the last months a good deal of...talking had been done. She wasn't sure what to make of it, but as long as she was paid, and he was happy, she decided she didn't much care.
Yes, that particular service would likely occupy the rest of her day--it was warm enough for a messenger girl to be invited in for chilled wine and fruit--but her job was far from over.
Kay had one more thing to attend to before she retired, and the thought of it, as usual, sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine. With a small, anxious grin, she fingered the deadly dagger strapped to her thigh, buried beneath skirts and petticoats, and coated in fatal poison.
The life of a farm girl was never boring.
Setting
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She made a slight frown on her face as she entered into the Grand Market accompanied by four guards that circled her. Her cousin Degan had brought her mood down only slightly, he always seemed to half annoy her. Faye would handle whatever business that was in this letter herself while she was out, who else was to do it? Certainly not Degan. Faye loved him enough to save his hide. She looked down at the letter, Marina HQ she thought. “At least this gives me something to do other than shopping,” Faye looked up at the guard beside her whom looked forward. Faye made a face. “Yes, M’lady,” he finally said. Faye was beginning to get used to her many guardsmen; after all, they kept her company while she was out by herself.
Faye’s arrival at Grand Market caused quite a stir among the merchant’s that wanted her attention, as well as her swains that gawked at her as she passed.
Faye let out a sigh, she always loved the Grand Market, and there was always something to do. Smiling to herself as she reminisced about her father bringing her here as a small child. Her eyes glanced over at the Montclair and Basilton water fountain and took note of its beauty. How long had it been there, she didn’t know, probably before her time but she always loved looking at the Dragon and the Mermaids in their high reliefs. Her eyes held a silent laughter, remembering throwing coins into the fountain as a child. Faye hadn’t been here in awhile she always loved the smells although some were not pleasant.
Faye let her mind slip back into her reality, where she suddenly stopped without warning. If it wasn’t for the guards swift reflexes he would have bumped into her. “Do tell me any of you know where this Marina HQ is?” she asked pointed at the envelope. One nodded but made a face. “What? What is it?” she asked them. “Nothing M’lady, it is not too far from here.” Faye frowned at them but didn’t ask any more questions about what Marina HQ was, although she had an idea.
Faye continued with her steady pace.
“Alright, well let us stop by the textile district first, and then I will handle this piece of business Degan rudely passed onto me.” Faye spoke to herself lowly. With this said Faye continued with her walk down the textile district when she eyed an indigo fabric.
“Ah a Montclair…,”a voice spoke, low and elegant. Faye looked over hazel eyes piercingly staring at a merchant, a woman selling various silks, fabrics and beading. “Lady Faye Montclair no less,” the woman smiled charmingly at Faye and Faye returned is smile walking closer to her table. The woman had a rather heavy build, and dressed herself with good taste, or so that is what Faye thought; although she could use work on her dull hair.
“Ah yes that silk fabric, I must have it!” Faye said a little excited when she came closer to get a better look. She noted that the pattern in the material was the pattern only slightly lighter than the actual silk and made out of velvet. This was the part where she missed her mother; they always went shopping with one another.
Faye smiled at the woman. “How much do you charge?” Faye grinned at the woman. “Ah for you M’lady I will give it to you for the best price.” Faye stared at her woman. Faye was too sly herself to know that the best price was not always the best price. But fairly, Faye was in a good mood and the best price was a best price.
Without another word from the woman Faye pulled out her small pouch of solid golden coins and pulled out five of them. “Here, I am sure this will suffice.” The merchant’s eyes lit up with delight and kindly took them from Faye. “Oh thank you M’lady, as thanks, take any embroidery that you would like,” said the merchant. “Oh, that is quite fine, but I would like the gold silk as well,” Faye smirked.
****
Faye arrived to the Marina HQ with a frown her delicate features and a burning intense stare. This was not a place that she wished to be and in her head she was already planning out her small revenge on her cousin Degan.
“I hadn’t expected the Lady Montclair to appear here,” said the man who took the envelope from her. “What a pleasant surprise.” Faye simply nodded her head with kindness although she wanted to stare him down with her hazel eyes. “Right, Right, Well I was only doing this on behalf of my cousin, I must be going.” Faye took a step behind her guards, feeling only a little intimidated by the surrounding of men at the Marina HQ she hated the feeling of being the smallest person there and at all regardless of her rank or title.
Faye walked away from the HQ with eloquence with her bag of fine expensive silk around her hand. Faye moved the light strands of hair away from her eyes with a slight annoyed expression. Back to the palace to plan a ball she thought to herself with a sigh, happy that she had finished what she thought she would.
Faye’s arrival at Grand Market caused quite a stir among the merchant’s that wanted her attention, as well as her swains that gawked at her as she passed.
Faye let out a sigh, she always loved the Grand Market, and there was always something to do. Smiling to herself as she reminisced about her father bringing her here as a small child. Her eyes glanced over at the Montclair and Basilton water fountain and took note of its beauty. How long had it been there, she didn’t know, probably before her time but she always loved looking at the Dragon and the Mermaids in their high reliefs. Her eyes held a silent laughter, remembering throwing coins into the fountain as a child. Faye hadn’t been here in awhile she always loved the smells although some were not pleasant.
Faye let her mind slip back into her reality, where she suddenly stopped without warning. If it wasn’t for the guards swift reflexes he would have bumped into her. “Do tell me any of you know where this Marina HQ is?” she asked pointed at the envelope. One nodded but made a face. “What? What is it?” she asked them. “Nothing M’lady, it is not too far from here.” Faye frowned at them but didn’t ask any more questions about what Marina HQ was, although she had an idea.
Faye continued with her steady pace.
“Alright, well let us stop by the textile district first, and then I will handle this piece of business Degan rudely passed onto me.” Faye spoke to herself lowly. With this said Faye continued with her walk down the textile district when she eyed an indigo fabric.
“Ah a Montclair…,”a voice spoke, low and elegant. Faye looked over hazel eyes piercingly staring at a merchant, a woman selling various silks, fabrics and beading. “Lady Faye Montclair no less,” the woman smiled charmingly at Faye and Faye returned is smile walking closer to her table. The woman had a rather heavy build, and dressed herself with good taste, or so that is what Faye thought; although she could use work on her dull hair.
“Ah yes that silk fabric, I must have it!” Faye said a little excited when she came closer to get a better look. She noted that the pattern in the material was the pattern only slightly lighter than the actual silk and made out of velvet. This was the part where she missed her mother; they always went shopping with one another.
Faye smiled at the woman. “How much do you charge?” Faye grinned at the woman. “Ah for you M’lady I will give it to you for the best price.” Faye stared at her woman. Faye was too sly herself to know that the best price was not always the best price. But fairly, Faye was in a good mood and the best price was a best price.
Without another word from the woman Faye pulled out her small pouch of solid golden coins and pulled out five of them. “Here, I am sure this will suffice.” The merchant’s eyes lit up with delight and kindly took them from Faye. “Oh thank you M’lady, as thanks, take any embroidery that you would like,” said the merchant. “Oh, that is quite fine, but I would like the gold silk as well,” Faye smirked.
****
Faye arrived to the Marina HQ with a frown her delicate features and a burning intense stare. This was not a place that she wished to be and in her head she was already planning out her small revenge on her cousin Degan.
“I hadn’t expected the Lady Montclair to appear here,” said the man who took the envelope from her. “What a pleasant surprise.” Faye simply nodded her head with kindness although she wanted to stare him down with her hazel eyes. “Right, Right, Well I was only doing this on behalf of my cousin, I must be going.” Faye took a step behind her guards, feeling only a little intimidated by the surrounding of men at the Marina HQ she hated the feeling of being the smallest person there and at all regardless of her rank or title.
Faye walked away from the HQ with eloquence with her bag of fine expensive silk around her hand. Faye moved the light strands of hair away from her eyes with a slight annoyed expression. Back to the palace to plan a ball she thought to herself with a sigh, happy that she had finished what she thought she would.
Setting
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Order or not, there was only so much a single person could be expected to sit through. Especially when that someone was Kaysen, who was unlike to sit still for a bath, let alone a meeting (much less she wasn't involved in).
In fact, short of falling asleep again, she was just about to risk detection and slide back down to the grown--the day was growing old, and she had more pressing matters to attend to as evening drew nigh--when she heard a very familiar name.
Granted, there wasn't a man, woman, or beast in Ríše who didn't know the name 'Montclair', and each different knowledge held a different meaning. For most, Kay thought, it was indifference. Maybe irreverent fear, distant respect, loathing, hatred, jealousy--the same sorts of feelings that always accompanied a powerful name among the lower masses.
But for her, it was something different. Not quite special, perhaps, but certainly unique. How else to describe the name of a person you enjoyed fucking?
She froze, the sweat on the back of her neck evaporating, chilling her to the bone, forcing goose flesh over her would-be warm skin.
Kay wasn't...protective, exactly. Aside from her brother--who could more than take care of himself--and her sister--who was protected by sheer wealth...if not that slightly arrogant new husband of hers--Kay cared little for the well being of anyone she wasn't hired to care about by virtue of her position in the Order. She wasn't sure just how she felt about Degan (it was unlikely he was anything more than a toy for now. A rich, powerful toy), but she figured she owed him something outside of midnight visitation. And perhaps it was a selfish notion--perhaps she saw it as little more as defending her property...but if she could save a few lives in the process, why shouldn't she act?
Before she knew was she was doing, she'd slithered back down the side of the building, in hot pursuit of the small group of men now leaving. She ducked through the crowds, trying to ease the knots out of her back and regain feeling in her toes as she went. She was so focused on following the large man, staying out of sight, and working the tension out of her body, that she didn't see the person who'd purposely stepped into her path until she was nearly in his arms.
~*~*~*~
"Sor--Degan?"
The tanned strawberry blonde straightened, hiding a wince as she did. Her eyes--ever the same shade of alluring green--caught his for just a moment, before scanning something over his shoulder. "What are you doing here?" she asked without looking at him. "You--"
"Came to visit," Degan said, grinning. He held up a bundle of crumpled looking papers. "Had a few things to deliver, too, so I...what are you looking at?"
Kay didn't answer. He hadn't expected her to. She had that distant look on her face that meant she wasn't paying attention. The intent wasn't unfamiliar, but the concentration behind the gaze was. Kay was...spacey, to say the least. Unless something was bright, painful, or food, it was unlikely it would hold her attention for more than a minute. However, there were some occasions...where she appeared to be hiding something. Usually, these flashes of insight were so brief, Degan would assume he imagined them; no matter how he felt about the girl, he couldn't deny she had some slightly careless tendencies. He'd had to explain her early-morning presence away on more than one occasion.
But there were other times, like this one, when she'd be so entirely focused, so seemingly different from the intoxicating, if slightly naive, girl he knew, he wondered if she was who she said she was. All things considered, he knew she was no stranger to lying.
After a moment, he put one hand to her cheek and turned her head toward his. Her eyes locked on his much faster this time, with no small hint of irritation.
"Degan!" she hissed. "I--"
"You what? What exactly are you on about?" He frowned at her. Her face was flushed, her cheeks and brow pink with sunburn. Her eyes were alert, and her body was tense. "What's going on? Where're you off to?"
She didn't answer, instead giving a huff of irritation. "We don't have time. Follow, if you insist, but for the sake of all things good, keep your head down." And with that, she'd disappeared once more into the shifting crowd, giving Degan no choice but to follow, confused and bent nearly in double to keep with Kay's smaller, quicker form.
In fact, short of falling asleep again, she was just about to risk detection and slide back down to the grown--the day was growing old, and she had more pressing matters to attend to as evening drew nigh--when she heard a very familiar name.
Granted, there wasn't a man, woman, or beast in Ríše who didn't know the name 'Montclair', and each different knowledge held a different meaning. For most, Kay thought, it was indifference. Maybe irreverent fear, distant respect, loathing, hatred, jealousy--the same sorts of feelings that always accompanied a powerful name among the lower masses.
But for her, it was something different. Not quite special, perhaps, but certainly unique. How else to describe the name of a person you enjoyed fucking?
She froze, the sweat on the back of her neck evaporating, chilling her to the bone, forcing goose flesh over her would-be warm skin.
Kay wasn't...protective, exactly. Aside from her brother--who could more than take care of himself--and her sister--who was protected by sheer wealth...if not that slightly arrogant new husband of hers--Kay cared little for the well being of anyone she wasn't hired to care about by virtue of her position in the Order. She wasn't sure just how she felt about Degan (it was unlikely he was anything more than a toy for now. A rich, powerful toy), but she figured she owed him something outside of midnight visitation. And perhaps it was a selfish notion--perhaps she saw it as little more as defending her property...but if she could save a few lives in the process, why shouldn't she act?
Before she knew was she was doing, she'd slithered back down the side of the building, in hot pursuit of the small group of men now leaving. She ducked through the crowds, trying to ease the knots out of her back and regain feeling in her toes as she went. She was so focused on following the large man, staying out of sight, and working the tension out of her body, that she didn't see the person who'd purposely stepped into her path until she was nearly in his arms.
~*~*~*~
"Sor--Degan?"
The tanned strawberry blonde straightened, hiding a wince as she did. Her eyes--ever the same shade of alluring green--caught his for just a moment, before scanning something over his shoulder. "What are you doing here?" she asked without looking at him. "You--"
"Came to visit," Degan said, grinning. He held up a bundle of crumpled looking papers. "Had a few things to deliver, too, so I...what are you looking at?"
Kay didn't answer. He hadn't expected her to. She had that distant look on her face that meant she wasn't paying attention. The intent wasn't unfamiliar, but the concentration behind the gaze was. Kay was...spacey, to say the least. Unless something was bright, painful, or food, it was unlikely it would hold her attention for more than a minute. However, there were some occasions...where she appeared to be hiding something. Usually, these flashes of insight were so brief, Degan would assume he imagined them; no matter how he felt about the girl, he couldn't deny she had some slightly careless tendencies. He'd had to explain her early-morning presence away on more than one occasion.
But there were other times, like this one, when she'd be so entirely focused, so seemingly different from the intoxicating, if slightly naive, girl he knew, he wondered if she was who she said she was. All things considered, he knew she was no stranger to lying.
After a moment, he put one hand to her cheek and turned her head toward his. Her eyes locked on his much faster this time, with no small hint of irritation.
"Degan!" she hissed. "I--"
"You what? What exactly are you on about?" He frowned at her. Her face was flushed, her cheeks and brow pink with sunburn. Her eyes were alert, and her body was tense. "What's going on? Where're you off to?"
She didn't answer, instead giving a huff of irritation. "We don't have time. Follow, if you insist, but for the sake of all things good, keep your head down." And with that, she'd disappeared once more into the shifting crowd, giving Degan no choice but to follow, confused and bent nearly in double to keep with Kay's smaller, quicker form.
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