Adaro Venisingreste was a tall and handsome man, with bronzed skin, fair hair and all those other typical clichés that Parthians were world renowned for. He was a quiet man prone to calculating and moving precisely; only when was necessary to do exactly what was needed. This perhaps more than anything was his greatest trait. He was descending for the evening, the oppressive heat of the day had finally broken and the city of Parthian was beginning to stir. His room was a few paces behind him in the dark and cool corridor, paved with stone and enclosed by smooth white walls with alcoves set to hold pretty things. A letter absently floated between his fingertips as he approached the cool light of the doorway ahead of him. He wore a simple tunic with nothing more than a loin cloth beneath. It was still far too hot for anything else.
He passed through the doorway and into the upper colonnade of a small and beautiful courtyard open to the sky. Above him the stars were out and the moons were draining the heat from the world with deep blue shadows. Glancing upwards he smiled as the cosmos slowly turned above, and lent his weight casually on the stone balustrade. Below he could hear raised voices coming from the large wooden door set into the corner of the ground floor, the voice of his landlady carrying through both door and the chamber beyond where the porter usually lounged. His sister was below floating gracefully around a little table set with bright blue crockery with a basket of bread and light food. They were to dine tonight below the stars in the shade of the olive tree that sat in the centre of their courtyard. She had not noticed him.
They were almost like twins, except everything that made him handsome made her beautiful. His well defined cheekbones and strong jaw were on her softer and more striking. His blonde hair casually cut short and effortlessly tussled was on her swept back and long, with natural ringlets forming where the hair was short around her face. Where his build was muscular however, hers was slight. She turned to face the door, frowning as the voices outside grew louder. There was a slight shudder from the wood that implied a breeze beyond, the outer doors had been opened and now their porter's voice joined the cacophony. Adaro lingered on the upper colonnade looking curiously towards it, when the door swung inward and their plump landlady appeared first, walking backwards.
"No, you no come here! It is not up to you to bring your soldiers into these homes. They are not on your list! You cannot take them!" She was an old, plump woman with wild flyaway hair forced behind a band of cloth and out of her face. As she walked she was gesticulating wildly at the broad frame of a Zargosan soldier. He looked utterly irritated and completely and utterly done. Whilst his landlady still held his full attention Adaro quickly stashed the letter in a nearby alcove.
"For the last time, I am not here to arre-" The soldier had a thick Zargosan accent, making his vowels short and his r's long. He rolled his eyes as he was interrupted again.
"Don't tell me for the last time! I am born of this city I am a proud woman! What have mountain monkeys got to say to the citizens of Parthian? What gives your culture or your god the right to come here? We are the Jewel! And you will not take these people!" The old woman's nostrils flared and she shot the teenage porter a withering look, as if to ask him for support. The porter was weakly protesting, and nervously eyeing the Zargosan soldier's weapons. He was only just three years a youth himself and only half the size of the other boys his age. She clicked her teeth.
"I'm not here to-" The soldier clenched his fist around the hilt of his sword.
"They all ways pay their rent on time and in good money! You no nothing of that! That is why you come here to steal! Go now, you are not welcome here!" With each interruption the old woman's tone became more shrill. Now practically squawking and panting heavily, she gave a start as a new voice entered the cacophony.
"Please commander, forgive an old woman," Savinne's voice was calm and measured "It is alright Ziene, I do not think that they are here to cause trouble.
The landlady gave a frightened squeak upon realising that Savinne was in the courtyard and moved dramatically to put herself in the way of the soldier leading the group. He puffed himself up with a frown and pronounced officially;
"Is this the home of Adaro the Artist?"
"It is," replied Savinne "Who may I ask is seeking his company?"
"He is summoned by the Ponatis to perform services for the Zargosan crown." The soldier in command produced an official looking scroll sealed with purple wax. Savinne raised her eyebrows and resumed her preparations for dinner. At first the soldier looked affronted by her lack of respect, but Adaro appeared in the very moment that a complaint began to rise and he was silenced.
"I am Adaro Venisingreste," Several of the soldiers in the company could little hide their awe as he entered the conversation. Slowly descending a large staircase that broke the upper colonnade near the doorway to the outside world, he cut a striking figure. Simply dressed but muscular and many times taller than your average Zargosan, he looked down upon them in nearly every sense "I do not know the Pontis, or why I am being summoned."
The soldier in command looked relieved to finally be addressing another man "I come only bearing the summons, the Ponatis is the embodiment of the Empress' will so he has not a name or a title other than that." He stepped forward imperiously and handed the scroll to Adaro with a theatrical sweep. His soldiers followed suit, all heads to the ground... save for one. His eyes lingered on Adaro's face for just a moment or two, but it was enough for the Parthian to see his features. He had a small and pretty face, with a hint of stubble and bright honey coloured eyes.
Taking the scroll, Adaro smiled and remarked "Thank you, commander?"
The soldier in command rose and saluted with a bunched fist over his heart "Commander Sekaso" Even stood fully and proud in this way his head barely came to Adaro's shoulders, and not for the first time since the invasion did both men wonder how the Zargosans had won so easily.
Adaro nodded courteously "Thank you, Commander Sekaso. I shall answer this summons."
The commander saluted again and turned to leave, his cloak of rank billowing behind him as his soldiers followed neatly and the stunned landlady resumed her verbal beating all the way down the street. The teenage porter lingered for a few moments awkwardly before Savinne spoke.
"Grubio, please close the door and fetch Sergio for dinner."
Grubio the porter flushed brightly before vanishing to the antechamber and closing the outer doors with a heavy bolt and then the inner set with a catch, and ran clumsily up the stairs to vanish down another darkened corridor.
Savinne studied her brother carefully with the same blue eyes that he bore himself. He took the seat next to the olive tree and absently broke the seal on the scroll, pretending not to notice her gaze.
"You stashed the letter to Arinne?" She had a wry smile.
"You never know what these Zargosans will help themselves to."
"What does the Ponatis want?" Savinne asked casually whilst opening a jar of spiced oil that had been resting by the olive tree whilst she served.
Adaro was silent for a few minutes whilst his eyes scanned the scroll, the person who wrote it had a heavy and awkward hand and their Haroon was clearly not as comfortable as their Zargosan. The pristine characters bearing the Ponatis' rank and heraldry were not so nearly as neat as the swoops and loops of the common language of Eliz. He had a little trouble at first, but eventually made out "He wants me to go to the villa of Senator Ceskiparos to talk about the work I did in his dining hall. I hope he doesn't want more of the same," Adaro re-rolled the scroll and set it to one side "Ceskiparos forced me to work with live nudes the entire time, all these naked young girls prancing about and fawning all over him whilst I tried to work."
"Well at least those days are over." Savinne added with a saddened note.
"Aye. Adair rest their souls." There was a moment's pause, broken by the rapid shuffle of Grubio's feet as he re-emerged from the corridor gripping the backside of his tunic and holding it down whilst simultaneously covering his mouth. Sergio appeared a few moments later, his dark hair and clever eyes matched with a greedy expression of lust as he watched the porter take his bowl and dash back to his quarters between the doors and away from Sergio.
Adaro had a feeling that poor Grubio was in for a very conflicted night and a morning of guilty pleasure. His sister sighed and pursed her lips, and the three sat down to eat. Sergio still leering towards the doorway.
***
The villa of the late Senator Ceskiparos was in a very well known and extravagantly wealthy section of the city right next to the Festival Square. The Mailon District had been the stage for a thousand years of scandal, triumph and intrigue in the days of the mighty Atican Empire. Poets had sung ballads of it, historians had condemned and rejoiced in it, and the matrons of Atico had despised and thoroughly entertained it. Mailon District was seen by all the outside world to be the very beating heart of Parthian; for all it's parties, its culture, its history and of course, for it's wealthy and well blooded inhabitants. Most of whom could trace their linage back to the days of the Bizan kings some three millennia ago. It did not come as a surprise then, that the largest and most beautiful of all of these villas, situated right on the edge of the Festival Square and world renowned for hosting the very best and biggest parties, should be the first place that Adaro was summoned by the city's new master.
Parthian had been conquered many times before. Always by stronger, larger nations seeking to take a little of the city's prestige for their own. They had always come and in the first few weeks and months and even years for some, made some 'great' public works and taken over the finest homes and houses for themselves. The artists and masons of the city were well used to chipping the names and dedications off of facades and recarving and repainting them in the image of another. But all the invasions before this had not been brutal affairs beyond the slaughter of the defending army.
As Adaro approached the walls overflowing with greenery and the high golden roof tiles just barely visible above the exotic selection of flora, he was expecting to simply have to redecorate to a new occupant's taste. Rounding the corner he felt an odd jolt as he saw the milling crowd gathering around the magnificent western façade of the villa's dining hall. The only part of the entire building to extend to the boundary wall was once decorated with a large and beautiful carving of the three goddesses; Alia, Adair and Jadus. It was covered in scaffold and as he got closer he saw that a large hole had been cut into the masonry, and a doorway being carved from poured stone by masons in chains. It was not a happy scene, the men gathered to watch were looking with veiled eyes and clenched fists and several of the women and older gentlemen were openly weeping. A teenage boy stared with a hard face and clenched jaw, and none there save the Zargosan soldiers delighted at the spectacle.
He recognised faces amongst the enslaved and caught whispers from the crowd. Amongst these already hollow looking men were people he had worked with before, plasterers, masons, carpenters... they had worked together to produce the beautiful interiors of the city's elite, and now they were here without freedom or hope. Forced to knock a huge gaping scar into one of the city's most famous buildings and adorn it with heavy and ugly Zargosan stonework. With a chill he presented his summons to one of the guards and was quickly ushered through an opening in the scaffold. The dining hall was almost unrecognisable, all the fine furniture and expensive silk drapes were gone and an unearthly light was penetrating the hall through the unveiled windows. In the midst of the chaos of scaffold and masonry dust, where a little space had been cleared, sat a grey haired man with a purple cloak set over his shoulders wearing a full set of highly polished golden dress armour. He had an odd overall appearance. He probably once had a gladiator's build but decades at the top had not been kind. Below the layers of fat and sloth were the remains of an impressive soldier, the waste of which was made even more pronounced by slender legs that looked almost as if he'd stolen them from someone much younger and less well fed. It gave him an almost ridiculous beetle like appearance, and instantly Adaro knew to whom he was being led.
He recognised faces amongst the enslaved and caught whispers from the crowd. Amongst these already hollow looking men were people he had worked with before, plasterers, masons, carpenters... they had worked together to produce the beautiful interiors of the city's elite, and now they were here without freedom or hope. Forced to knock a huge gaping scar into one of the city's most famous buildings and adorn it with heavy and ugly Zargosan stonework. With a chill he presented his summons to one of the guards and was quickly ushered through an opening in the scaffold. The dining hall was almost unrecognisable, all the fine furniture and expensive silk drapes were gone and an unearthly light was penetrating the hall through the unveiled windows. In the midst of the chaos of scaffold and masonry dust, where a little space had been cleared, sat a grey haired man with a purple cloak set over his shoulders wearing a full set of highly polished golden dress armour. He had an odd overall appearance. He probably once had a gladiator's build but decades at the top had not been kind. Below the layers of fat and sloth were the remains of an impressive soldier, the waste of which was made even more pronounced by slender legs that looked almost as if he'd stolen them from someone much younger and less well fed. It gave him an almost ridiculous beetle like appearance, and instantly Adaro knew to whom he was being led.
The soldier escorting him saluted the seated figure, and Adaro noticed the young faced soldier from the previous night stood nervously nearby. He smiled at him, and the soldier looked flustered. His escort cleared his throat "Ponatis, I present to you; Adaro the Artist." and left after being dismissed with a casual wave from the Empress' will on Eliz.
Adaro nodded his head politely, as the Ponatis surveyed every facet of the Parthian carefully. The sounds of the newly enslaved tradesman labouring slowly in their sacrilege, came from all around as the stillness intensified. Not for the first time did it occur to Adaro that he was walking away from his freedom, and that this was going to end with him in chains like so many other citizens summoned by the new regime, in so many of the other newly conquered lands of Zargosa. From the corner of his eye he saw one of the masons glancing his direction, behind the Ponatis' line of sight, clearly questioning why Adaro had come and answered the summons and silently begging him to flee, to be spared. Adaro kept his gaze fixed upon the Ponatis. Their eyes locked. The Ponatis smiled.
"You are the artist responsible for these?" he remained seated and waved his hand around the room to the frescoes depicting various scenes of Triumval iconography and casual nudity "I am told that these are as good as those in your heathen temple."
"I also painted those scenes. As well as the triumphal halls of the senate."
The Ponatis gazed casually around the room for a few moments, and Adaro noticed several large mixing vats and the ingredients for whitewash assembled in the centre of the hall. A few tired slaves stood nearby trying to interpret something written on the side of a large burlap sack. He found his attention slowly drawn back to the Empress' will exactly as he was ready to speak again.
"A rare talent..." The Ponatis held his hand lazily to one side and a scroll was placed into his palm by a reedy clerk that Adaro had not even noticed "You are fortunate. You would fetch a high price in the heartlands, but the church has requested that you put your artistry to good use in converting this heathen city to the faith," he waved to the clerk who produced another scroll (Adaro didn't quite see where from) written in Parthian, "This palace of sin is to be converted into the city's main cathedral, and you are to repaint this chamber with more suitable imagery for a Maithan chapel."
"I understand," Adaro answered plainly "And what is the time frame for this project?"
"A member of the inquisition will arrive in two weeks by our calender to oversee your creative efforts. Before he arrives this entire room and adjoining chambers must be purified," The Ponatis rose to his feet and took a few paces towards the scaffold with an unexpected grace, "The inquisition members only speak the pure and holy language of Mainzen. Your translator will be this man." He waved his hand toward the fresh faced soldier, and summoned an overseer with an impatient click.
The overseer, a somewhat unremarkable man with a large moustache, also arrived as if from nowhere. Adaro began to suspect the Ponatis of bearing some sort of magical power, but was immediately distracted (and disgusted) by the sudden and rough sound of the Zargosan language.
"Zus vikaroum azelefgru, cogha khal." Evidently this was something that the Ponatis did not want Adaro to be able to understand, and the nervous look that the overseer gave him only confirmed it. The moustachioed man nodded mutely, and the Ponatis left in a slow and deliberate manner followed by a litter of slaves carrying his effects.
Adaro had to fight for a moment to keep the disgust out of his features whilst the overseer still surveyed him cautiously. Slavery had been abolished in Parthian many thousands of years ago. To see it again so prominently and so soon after an invasion, was a great source of poison and pain to the hearts of all who were bred in the city. After a moment he mastered himself and said simply to the overseer,
"I shall need to fetch my supplies."
The overseer shook his head and spoke to the young faced soldier behind Adaro "Znuch el aen, zus azelefgru. Corasghi cogha khal."
The young soldier cleared his throat and said in a heavy Zargosan accent "He says that you are not allowed to leave until you have done your job, or your life is forfeit."
Adaro closed his eyes and sighed. It was going to be one of those days.
Parthians had been using whitewash longest out of all the cities and states in the world. Not even the immortal cities of Khol and Biza had employed it for nearly quite so long (or in Khol's case ever at all) or quite so well. It was with the seasoned hand of a veteran that Adaro quickly measured the mix and began to arrange things. He had quickly tired of the lacklustre efforts in assistance put forth by the overseer's slaves and banished them to the far side of the room. His translator hovered nervously nearby, his weapons resting against the wall and his hands clearly fidgeting for something to hold.
"I am Adaro," the Parthian remarked to the silence "You can understand me?"
"Yes." The translator's voice was remarkably smooth, in spite of the jagged inflection caused by a native Zargosan tongue.
"What is your name?" Adaro looked around the room for a few moments, carefully considering his measurements, and decided to adjust his mix.
"Felix Ultiza of Heremez"
"Felix. Do you know how to fold?"
The young faced soldier looked confused.
"With fabric?"
"No. With these," Adaro casually lifted a large wooden paddle that looked somewhat like an oar "It takes two to mix this properly, and these slaves the overseer has provided are underfed. I need someone with stamina."
Felix blushed. Adaro raised an eyebrow.
"I saw your army fighting outside the walls, you do have the same training?"
Felix nodded. Adaro handed him a paddle "Oh and you should take off the armour, it will just get in the way."
The translator looked around nervously, then unclasped his breastplate and limb guards, placing them carefully with his sword and shield against the wall. When he returned he was wearing a simple red tunic and brown leather trousers. Adaro shook his head and clicked his tongue, "Ask the overseer for something you can get dirty. I will prepare the water so be quick."
Felix nodded mutely and trotted away, looking back over his shoulder at Adaro with an odd expression with which the Parthian was all too familiar. He smiled to himself 'Again the providence of Jadus shines. Of all the soldiers my little guardian...'
'Felix...'
((That's the end of Part One, there's still quite a bit to go in this chapter but I hope you like it. Not so happy about the first few paragraphs, can see them getting a heavy edit at some point. Also excuse the commas I seem to vomit out with the first draft, they tend to linger after editing when they're not needed. If you see any feel free to comment on the where and the whyfor if they can be removed - SR))
"I also painted those scenes. As well as the triumphal halls of the senate."
The Ponatis gazed casually around the room for a few moments, and Adaro noticed several large mixing vats and the ingredients for whitewash assembled in the centre of the hall. A few tired slaves stood nearby trying to interpret something written on the side of a large burlap sack. He found his attention slowly drawn back to the Empress' will exactly as he was ready to speak again.
"A rare talent..." The Ponatis held his hand lazily to one side and a scroll was placed into his palm by a reedy clerk that Adaro had not even noticed "You are fortunate. You would fetch a high price in the heartlands, but the church has requested that you put your artistry to good use in converting this heathen city to the faith," he waved to the clerk who produced another scroll (Adaro didn't quite see where from) written in Parthian, "This palace of sin is to be converted into the city's main cathedral, and you are to repaint this chamber with more suitable imagery for a Maithan chapel."
"I understand," Adaro answered plainly "And what is the time frame for this project?"
"A member of the inquisition will arrive in two weeks by our calender to oversee your creative efforts. Before he arrives this entire room and adjoining chambers must be purified," The Ponatis rose to his feet and took a few paces towards the scaffold with an unexpected grace, "The inquisition members only speak the pure and holy language of Mainzen. Your translator will be this man." He waved his hand toward the fresh faced soldier, and summoned an overseer with an impatient click.
The overseer, a somewhat unremarkable man with a large moustache, also arrived as if from nowhere. Adaro began to suspect the Ponatis of bearing some sort of magical power, but was immediately distracted (and disgusted) by the sudden and rough sound of the Zargosan language.
"Zus vikaroum azelefgru, cogha khal." Evidently this was something that the Ponatis did not want Adaro to be able to understand, and the nervous look that the overseer gave him only confirmed it. The moustachioed man nodded mutely, and the Ponatis left in a slow and deliberate manner followed by a litter of slaves carrying his effects.
Adaro had to fight for a moment to keep the disgust out of his features whilst the overseer still surveyed him cautiously. Slavery had been abolished in Parthian many thousands of years ago. To see it again so prominently and so soon after an invasion, was a great source of poison and pain to the hearts of all who were bred in the city. After a moment he mastered himself and said simply to the overseer,
"I shall need to fetch my supplies."
The overseer shook his head and spoke to the young faced soldier behind Adaro "Znuch el aen, zus azelefgru. Corasghi cogha khal."
The young soldier cleared his throat and said in a heavy Zargosan accent "He says that you are not allowed to leave until you have done your job, or your life is forfeit."
Adaro closed his eyes and sighed. It was going to be one of those days.
***
Parthians had been using whitewash longest out of all the cities and states in the world. Not even the immortal cities of Khol and Biza had employed it for nearly quite so long (or in Khol's case ever at all) or quite so well. It was with the seasoned hand of a veteran that Adaro quickly measured the mix and began to arrange things. He had quickly tired of the lacklustre efforts in assistance put forth by the overseer's slaves and banished them to the far side of the room. His translator hovered nervously nearby, his weapons resting against the wall and his hands clearly fidgeting for something to hold.
"I am Adaro," the Parthian remarked to the silence "You can understand me?"
"Yes." The translator's voice was remarkably smooth, in spite of the jagged inflection caused by a native Zargosan tongue.
"What is your name?" Adaro looked around the room for a few moments, carefully considering his measurements, and decided to adjust his mix.
"Felix Ultiza of Heremez"
"Felix. Do you know how to fold?"
The young faced soldier looked confused.
"With fabric?"
"No. With these," Adaro casually lifted a large wooden paddle that looked somewhat like an oar "It takes two to mix this properly, and these slaves the overseer has provided are underfed. I need someone with stamina."
Felix blushed. Adaro raised an eyebrow.
"I saw your army fighting outside the walls, you do have the same training?"
Felix nodded. Adaro handed him a paddle "Oh and you should take off the armour, it will just get in the way."
The translator looked around nervously, then unclasped his breastplate and limb guards, placing them carefully with his sword and shield against the wall. When he returned he was wearing a simple red tunic and brown leather trousers. Adaro shook his head and clicked his tongue, "Ask the overseer for something you can get dirty. I will prepare the water so be quick."
Felix nodded mutely and trotted away, looking back over his shoulder at Adaro with an odd expression with which the Parthian was all too familiar. He smiled to himself 'Again the providence of Jadus shines. Of all the soldiers my little guardian...'
'Felix...'
((That's the end of Part One, there's still quite a bit to go in this chapter but I hope you like it. Not so happy about the first few paragraphs, can see them getting a heavy edit at some point. Also excuse the commas I seem to vomit out with the first draft, they tend to linger after editing when they're not needed. If you see any feel free to comment on the where and the whyfor if they can be removed - SR))
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