Beyond Chaos – A DiceRPG

Noisy. Smelly. Comfortable.

Adam’s leaf shaped ears twitched, his nostrils flared, and his heart soothed under the city’s effects. The large domed buildings oriented the half elf. The golden buildings of Jabal Adh Dahab formed various small estates, but in a way that was more inviting, with hundreds of scarves hanging around, each of various different colours and hues, Dunes checking upon each to see which estates they could walk by and through. There were a few areas which were cornered off with a warning, with certain reds and blacks, though the figure in full black behind them, with the silver mask and the golden trim, surely made every road within the capital safe.

“You know, I’ve noticed something,” Adam said. “Sometimes they’re smaller, sometimes they are bigger, but almost everything is uniform to a certain dimension.”

“What do you mean?” Dunes asked.

“Squares,” Adam said motioning to a smaller building. “That’s the smallest square, but most of the buildings are usually twice that, and there are some which are bigger. The roads, too. They’re all pretty uniform, and I’ve noticed, between every bigger square, there’s a pathway that’s about two people wide, whereas most roads are five people wide, and the bigger roads are ten, and some are twenty.”

“The small square you see is a gahdun, for which the Aldish word for garden is descended,” Dunes stated. “It is roughly sixteen steps by sixteen steps, one step on each side given to the road, but the size of a gahdun is enshrined within the law of Aswadasad from centuries ago, during the time of the Shen of Shens.”

“Oh? Why?”

“You, of all people, can guess it,” Dunes said, smirking playfully.

“Me? Why me?”

“You know it, because you share the same heart.”

‘The same heart?’ Adam thought, glancing aside. “Gahdun means garden, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then… one of his children played in a garden that was that big?”

Dunes smiled, slowly bowing his head. “His daughter, whom he doted upon so affectionately, her favourite garden was exactly this size. Everyone in this world should have at least such a garden, the Shen’s thought was so. The gahdun is exactly this size, and the price of a gahdun, it is one beht monthly.”

“Monthly?”

“It is one of the taxes. One beht for a gahdun, enough for one family to live within. Each additional floor is a beht each season, and you can see, almost every building is three stories tall. The tax for one’s head is much more expensive, so to live towards the sun is cheaper than to live.”

“One beht, huh?” Adam stared at a building nearby, eyeing up the scarf, noting how it was hung, similar to many other scarves.

“It is a Shen’s folly to request an Aswadian to part with their gold, so it is the beht. One beht for each head, one beht for a gahdun, and most Aswadian families possess at least four gahdun, and one, or two, or three, if one is fortunate, which is many stories high.”

“I see…” Adam continued to eye up the various scarves, then his eyes darted to the side, towards the markers all around in the distance, noting more patterns within the city. “Is each district formed around a temple?”

Dunes smiled. “It is so.”

“I see,” Adam said, thinking about how many temples he could see, and as they drew closer to the centre, the temples became more sparse, the tallest of which was upon the hill near the centre, a hill which had been carved in a way that was almost like a ziggurat, with the top of the hill holding a massive building that must have formed the largest temple within Aswadasad. “Dunes?”

“Yes?”

“Do the words betta and betti come from beht, since a beht is so precious in Aswadasad?” Adam asked, with an earnestness Dunes didn’t expect, the half elf holding a child like curiosity at his thought.

“I do not know,” Dunes admitted, though a small smile encroached upon his lips. “I would not be so surprised.”

“You know, I’m wondering, there are some words that Aldland gained from Aswadasad, but is there a way where it’s the reverse?” Adam asked.

“There is one way we pay respect to the Aldish,” Dunes confirmed. “You have seen it.”

“I have?”

“Aldland’s Kings descend from a legendary figure,” Dunes said.

“Blackwater, or, Blakvatr, right?”

“Do you recall his name?”

“Are you bullying me?” Adam joked. “Kal Blakvatr.”

“Kal Blackvatr,” Dunes said. “There are many Aldish words which derive from Aswadasad, garden, moustache, beard, various words for drinks, foods, clothing, music, but Aswadasad, too, derive many words, but no word more famous than Kal. Kal Uli, do you agree?”

“I do,” Uli replied.

“Oh,” Adam replied, smiling slightly at the realisation, having never placed the words together. “That’s really cute.”

“Yes.” Dunes smiled. “It is.”

Uli wasn’t sure how he felt about Adam’s patronising words, but seeing the pair smile, he did not speak up.

“You know, I noticed that the women wear those, um, netted things on their faces,” Adam said, trying to broach the topic tactfully.

“It is considered woman’s clothing, but…” Dunes let out a soft sigh. “I am envious. I once wore a modesti as a child, my instructor had me understand the difference between male clothing and female clothing. I do not think that was the true reason…”

Adam’s face remained neutral as the pair stared at one another, but within his eyes, simmered a guilt. He closed his eyes, recalling how Murot cried when they had changed him into all manner of girl’s clothings. Adam apologised, not because he was unable to protect the boy from his mother and aunts, but because Adam, too, had such fun dressing him up in adorable clothing.

“I bet you were such a cute kid,” Adam said.

“The cutest,” Dunes confirmed. “Still, I wore it under the heat, and though it hides the face from those outside, it protects one eyes while obscuring vision only slightly. Though they are adorned in more clothing than the men, they are much cooler under this heat.”

“I don’t feel too bad,” Adam admitted, no longer feeling the extreme heat due to the Soul of the Forge, that which gifted him resistance against the heat, as well as greater protection within his armour.

“Even so, it would be best to buy a hat,” Dunes said, as they approached the noisy market, with hundreds, if not thousands, shouting and bartering.

The men and the women wore loose clothing, and Adam wasn’t sure if he saw any woman with their hair out, their heads wrapped in scarves, some even covering their faces, while the men did the same, each wearing scarves, much more loosely draped around their heads compared to the women, or their scarves were wrapped around their stiff hats, many allowing the scarf to drop across the backs of their necks, the sides of their ears, and some even in front of their faces, though the material was so light, they could still see through, but with a veneer of colour between themselves and the world.

Dunes approached stall, a middle aged woman, who was wrapped in long cloths, only revealing her face, reminiscent of how Vonda usually dressed, tended to the stall. Her face was dark, darker under the shade of the cloth which provided respite from the searing sun above, her lips painted black, three red dots painted across her forehead.

“Mo, you bless me this day,” the woman said, her eyes taking upon the sights of the two Priests, each carrying weapons at their sides, wearing their amulets proudly for the world to see, one of Lady Arya, the other of Death. Her then darted towards the Black Lion, and she bowed her head respectfully to him too. “Blessings, Mulazim.”

“Blessings,” Uli replied.

“I will call for my husband,” the woman said, bowing her head lightly, before retreating away, allowing them to eye up the various hats, scarves, and other headwear on offer.

Adam eyed up the hats on offer, those made of string, like spider webs, and those that were stiff and hardier, easily a thousand hats on display, not just upon the wooden stall, but between the walls forms of long sheets of fabric, going further into the back, where a thicker fabric wall fenced in about a gahdun length away. Adam noted Dunes was eyeing up the various hats, but did not reach for any, and Adam followed the Priest’s lead.

A man with a limp opened the heavy fabric wall, glancing towards the group. He was slightly older, his beard white, his moustache dyed earthy, and he wore a turban, pinned together with a small medallion. A smile crept across his lips as he limped forward. “Aryashukhur, Mo.”

“Aryashukhur, ahm,” Dunes called, shaking the man’s forearm. “I have come to buy a few hats, scarves, turbans, for myself, my companions, my children, and my nieces and nephews.”

“Aryashkhur, I am blessed this day,” the man said, holding a warm smile upon his face.

“Forty Sixth?” Dunes asked.

“I was very blessed in my life,” the man said. “I was fifteen when they trained me, seventeen in my first skirmishes. I fought for almost thirty years, but I was injured, and now, I sell hats.”

“You went from protecting the land, to protecting our heads,” Dunes joked, nodding his head.

“Your friend, Brother fae, he is Iyrman?”

“I am not,” Adam said in their tongue. “I am close with the Iyr, and my brother and sister are Iyrmen, so are my children, but I am not.”

“Ah! You speak the tongue of light and gold? Shukhur! You are so wise!”

Adam smiled coyly. “Well… I suppose I am a little wise.”

Dunes raised his brow incredulously towards the half elf. “We are here to buy many hats.”

“How many you say, I will gift them.”

Adam shook his head, holding up a hand, shaking his head further to emphasise how he had to decline. “We’re here to buy at least two hundred hats, maybe more.”

The merchant raised his brows in shock. “I will work twice as hard tomorrow.”

“Kal, please,” Adam said, reaching out to Dunes’ shoulder, far too comfortable, the half elf smiling even wider with a knowing smile. “I speak the tongue of light and gold, because I wish to make my purse light of gold.”

Dunes blinked, unsure if he liked this charming Adam that made, if not great, acceptable jokes.

‘That was good,’ Uli thought.

Uli is beginning to understand the ridiculousness of Adam.