Founders Feast
113-115th Ashan, 718
When he arrived in Rharne a few trials ago, there'd been a certain buzz in the air he'd been unable to put his finger on. Excited murmurs, sales in the shops, construction workers flocking to the central plazas... some sort of event, it seemed. It wasn't until he asked the innkeep what was going on that he got an answer.
"You never heard of the Founders feast?!" Brimtattle was a man of who existed too much broad-wise and too little length-wise and Finn had noted with some amusement that the floor behind the bar had been raised to make the stout man appear taller than he truly was. "The founders feast is when the city celebrates well, it's founding! Didn't your parents- Oh! I see, you're not from 'round here are you?"
There was no point in being secretive, not with innkeeps anyway, they could sniff out foreigners from half a mile away.
He'd rented a room for a gold piece a-day including two meals, one in the morning and one in the evening. This presented a new problem, the journey to Rharne had not been cheap and he'd been steadily outgrowing his old clothes. His boots weren't what they used to be either and frankly, during this time of year, boots were much too warm anyway. He’d known it all along, but when he went over his remaining gold that night, in the privacy of his room, he knew for sure: he’d have to find a job and soon too. With what he had left he could last maybe half a season, maybe the entire season if he kept his boots and his old, travel-worn clothes, and even then he’d be pushing it.
The next morning he woke early and remembered the many “sale” signs he’d seen on his way into the city. If there was ever a time to purchase himself some new clothes and start a new life under a new name, now would be it, and after he’d wolfed down his breakfast he headed straight into the heart of the city with an enthusiasm he’d rarely felt for shopping before.
The twin suns were already on their descent by the time he returned to the inn, his face half-hidden behind the pile of clothes he’d purchased and relieved of half his gold. It was a gamble, but he figured he was more likely to get a job if he looked presentable rather than some washed-up stowaway.
He paid the innkeep extra that night in exchange for a hot bath and a bar of soap and made good use of the extra expense, scrubbing himself relentlessly until every patch of skin was cleaned of the Etzos filth that clung to him. The water still held some warmth when he was satisfied half a bell later and rested his head against the hardwood of the tub before closing his eyes, trying to think of a good new name. It would have to be something easy to remember, preferably of similar length as his current name so he was less likely to mess it up. By the time he dried himself he’d settled on Noah for the time being, though he wasn’t quite sure if he needed a new surname too. In his experience, not many people asked for his surname, but perhaps he’d have to mention it when he’d get a job.
He awoke that night to the sound of…drums? Rubbing his eyes he sat up in his bed and tried to peek out of the small window in his room. He couldn’t spot much movement on the street below, but in the distance he noticed a colorful glow. Curious, he slipped out of bed, opened the window and let a fresh breeze tousle his hair before sticking his head out. The music was definitely coming from the heart of the city, higher up the hill, then he remembered what the innkeep had said about the Founders feast.
For a while he remained thusly, simply enjoying the view and the occasional gentle breeze, it was hard to sleep in this warmth anyway. When a bout of laughter erupted in the street below he made up his mind, turned away from the window and changed into his new clothes, picking a light, white shirt and a pair of dark three-quarter pants as the base of his charm offensive. After all, what better place to find a job than at a feast? The people would be in a good mood, perhaps a little inebriated and with a bit of luck he could maybe show his willingness to lend a hand and score a job that way.
Confident with his plan, Finn headed out with just a few nel and his door-key in his pockets all while reminding himself that he’d have to call himself Noah, not Finn. Somewhere he wondered if it would really make a difference, but he could at least try to make it difficult for his enemies to find him.
The whole of the glass quarter had been transformed, the neat and tidy roads were now cramped with stalls and countless arrays of lanterns hung between the houses, bathing the streets in a colorful splattering of light. There was plenty music, plenty dancing and the ale flowed richly as Finn squeezed himself through a sea of bodies, moving closer and closer to where the crowd was thickest. He paused a few times along the way to ogle some of the wares on display but refrained from purchasing anything, he’d spent too much as it was.
At last there was a break in the crowd and he arrived at the main attraction of the feast, a large plaza on which rows upon rows of tables had been lined up, each filled to the brim with food and drink and laughter. He’d barely blinked at the banquet when a man, dressed in the most hideous, brightly colored clothes came up to him, the scent of spirits on his breath.
“Ah, young man, handsome young man, I have just the thing for you!” He revealed a long stick with little branches from which many trinkets dangled: armlets, bracelets, necklaces, rings, buttons. “Anything the modern lady or girl,” the man added with a fat wink, “could possibly want! I can especially recommend this gemstone beaded bracelet,” he fished a tangle of pinkish stones from the stick and showed Finn the fine craftsmanship. “It brings good luck, and it’s only two golden nels! That isn’t such a high price to gain entry into your lovers heart, is it?”
Finn eyed the gemstones with some suspicion, thinking that their bright pink hue was largely the result of the many lantern lights than an inherent quality in the translucent stones. The whole thing couldn’t possibly be worth more than one golden nel. “No thanks,” he said politely. “Besides, I don’t have a lover I’m just wanderi-”
“Even better!” the man answered enthusiastically, waving the beaded bracelet in front of him. “The stones connect to your emean soul and will help you find your destined love-”
“I don’t need it, thanks.”
But the man wouldn’t be quite as broad as he was if he was a poor salesman. While Finn had rejected the gemstone bracelet, the man had slipped on a cheaper wristband made out of a thin strip of leather and colored wooden beads.
“It looks great on you. You know,” he lowered his voice somewhat, “I think I saw some girls eyeing you just now- don’t look!”
Finn arched an eyebrow at the salesman, he hadn’t seen many girls so far, but then again, he’d largely been distracted by the stands, the lights and some of the performers.
“Now then, what’s your name?”
He’d trained himself a little too well and blurted out his new identity a little too abruptly.
“Well, you want to be careful Noah,” the man said as though they were the closest of friends. Finn barely noticed that the man had untied the thin leather strip and was picking out lettered beads from a satchel at his side, forming the letters N-O-A-H, “Rharne girls have got a temper and you’re not from Rharne, are you?”
He shook his head and silently cursed himself for it. There was something about the red-faced jovial little man that made him trust… but no, he was not an empath, he could not sense any ripple in the ether surrounding the man. “Well my handsome friend,” the man said as he re-tied the leather strip around his wrist, “that will be two golden nels then.”
Finn looked confused for a moment, then relented. Paying the man seemed the fastest way to get rid of him.
“Have a great night!” the red-nosed man beamed as his greedy fingers closed around the shimmering gold before making a jester’s bow. Within trills the salesman had turned around, spotting some hapless victims entering the plaza, this time in the form of a group of giggling girls. “Girls!” he smiled, waddling toward them, “lovely, pretty girls! What if I told you, you’d meet the love of your life, tonight!”
Aside from a little chuckle, Finn didn’t linger too much longer, fearing the jovial little fellow might come back for him and try to sell him fortune cards. He eyed the overpriced wristband, feeling rather dumb for having purchased it. If anything it reminded him of his goal which was to try and find a job.
He made his way further onto the plaza, squeezing past lords and ladies one instant and common folk the next. Some feast this was, it looked like the entire city had come out to celebrate and be merry. He paused a moment when he’d crossed the plaza, eyeing a fire breathing act, resisting the temptation to mess with the performer and bend the flames to his will. Too dangerous and probably not worth the effort, he didn’t know what the laws on magic were in Rharne and Fiona had often warned him against letting anyone know he possessed any magic at all. It tended to attract the wrong sort of attention.
Smiling, he continued his search and headed into one of the side-streets. A scent of warm bread wafted toward him and a group of loudly chatting women well into their thirties (and well into the barrel of wine behind their stand) waved him over, giggling as he approached with mild trepidation.
They demanded to know his opinion on who of them had baked the better bread, forcing him to taste various kinds, though he was happy to oblige. Their merry mood seemed to improve even further when he tactically refused to name one bread the best and called them all equally worthy contestants in their own right. In the end they insisted he take some of the bread with him and refused to let him go before he’d pecked all five of them on the cheek as a token of his gratitude. As soon as he rounded the next corner, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, he could’ve asked for a job, he considered, but then shuddered at the thought of having to be around the drunk, giggling women for more than a bell. At least he had enough bread to last a fortnight, and he hadn’t paid a copper for it, so in a way he’d earned a little money already.
It wasn’t long before he found a quiet spot at the edge of the bustling feast and plopped down on some empty crates stacked against a bare wall of a closed bakery. As he tore another bit of the bread he noticed two small shadows overhead. Were those feet? He took a step back and squinted his eyes. They did indeed appear to be two small feet, dangling over the edge of the bakery, swinging back and forth.
Chewing idly on the bread, Finn retreated a few paces from the bakery so he could make out the mysterious figure who’d gone through the considerable effort of scaling the bakery’s rooftop. It did seem like a rather good idea as he imagined the kind of view one would have from up there.
“Hey!” he called out to the shadow, not quite able to make out any exact features other than a curved silhouette. He gave a friendly wave, in case he’d startled the stranger. “How did you get up there?”