The rare and special art
Trial 35 of Saun Arc 717 in the Art Fair at the market place of Ne'haer
The painter Yrmellyn Cole went to the art fair in Ne’haer this day in the end of Saun 717. Despite the hurricane that had hit Ne'haer less than ten days earlier the fair hadn't been cancelled, which spoke volumes about the people of the city. It seemed to take more than a natural disaster to make them change their plans for going out to have some fun.
Yrmellyn was mostly aiming to just look at the art and handicraft exhibited there, but maybe she would also be able to make some good bargains. She wasn’t a big spender though and would be perfectly happy with just having a good time. Then again, if something special and rare would catch the painter’s attention it might be hard for her to resist it, should the price be reasonable.
The atmosphere of fairs was always lively and exited. There were a lot of interesting things for a painter to watch and think of as motifs, as well as the chance of meeting new people and getting friends and acquaintances in the city. Immortals knew Yrmellyn Cole could need a friend or more. She was able to get by on her own when needed, but it was tough to never have anybody else than herself to rely on.
However...it was no surprise that few were looking to learn to know an unknown painter on her way into her early thirties, without any powerful connections, wealth or other things people find useful enough to buy their friendship for a while. Yrmellyn wasn’t interested in buying and selling friendship though. She wasn’t one of those who think of friendship as a businesslike exchange, worth something only as long as they can profit on it. Totally other values than profit guided how she sometimes bonded with other people. One aspect was her devotion to the immortal Vhalar, the keeper of oaths. Yrmellyn Cole might come off as an irresponsible and reckless artist, wacky even, as artist sometimes may be. It was definitely true that she had such traits, but this wasn’t all she was. There was more to her, which only those would see who stood by her when it counted, just like she stood by them.
Rare and special are the people who wouldn’t sacrifice a friend in order to gain favors for themselves...the fleeting thought arose, went through her mind and faded out again. Special and rare they are...
The first thing the painter did was of course to buy a pint of “art fair mead” which was a brew said to be special for this art market and only available today. The recipe was secret, but nonetheless the signs at the mead stall said that market mead contained “rare spices from faraway lands” and was very exotic indeed. It came with a “fairy pewter cup” with a lid on hinges. The price was higher than for normal Ne’haer mead. People who had already been ripped off in this market in past arcs and were able to bring their own cups got a discount. Yrmellyn had to buy both cup and mead, but the blatant scam just amused her. In her opinion it was part of the attractions at a fair to play along and waste money on at least one exotic joke.
Holding the mead cup in her right hand she continued into the marketplace. There were stalls everywhere and it didn’t seem like anybody had tried to give directions for where and how to put them up. It looked randomized. Yrmellyn liked this. She was no fan of meticulously well-ordered events and preferred somewhat chaotic happenings, like this fair. Content with the atmosphere she looked around. People of all ages and social standings were milling around between the stalls. There were well dressed wealthy matrons with maids in tow, carrying baskets and parcels. There were sailors and soldiers accompanied by servants who had been given - or taken - a trial off work in order to have some fun. There were children of course, running around laughing and shouting, more often than not with cookies in their hands. Yrmellyn suddenly wondered if this meant the children weren’t in school this day, or if they had skipped it...
After walking around for a while she found her way to a less crowded part of the market place. The art and handicraft displayed there was decorative and well made, but seemed more practical and useful compared to some of the spectacular and entertaining things displayed in the more popular stalls. Yrmellyn stopped to look at the weapons in a stall where a number of swords and daggers were for sale. Some of them were elaborate and embellished than others, other of simplistic design, but all of them were more than average beautiful. They were the work of master, no doubt.
“Can I help you?”
It was one of the two young men who were working in the stall. The painter could hear a streak of polite doubt in his tone. Obviously he had just needed to look at the painter once in order to classify her as a person who wasn’t likely to engage in combat. Yrmellyn smiled, shook her head and moved on. The young man shouted the name of the firm and the address of their workshop after her, just in case.
In next stall they had shoes and boots for sale. Although Yrmellyn didn’t think of footwear as art, she supposed it could be called artistic handicraft. The wares weren’t your usual average boots and shoes. Who would for example ever find use for a pair of brown and golden boots with lacing and heels...actually, those weren’t bad, and for an artist like herself they could be right. Yrmellyn tried them on but they weren’t the right size. She was told to come to the shoemaker’s shop a few days later. If the boots would still be unsold they could adjust so they became just right for her.
The painter continued her stroll. By now she had imbibed a good amount of art fair mead, this lovely mysterious brew that didn’t make her feel tipsy at all, just in a good mood and sort of...inspired. She stopped to take one more swig of it.
The sound of a voice from the stall nearby made her turn to the right. When she lowered the cup and looked up a big red sea-dragon filled her vision, swimming in a wild and wavy ocean. For a fraction of a trill Yrmellyn stared at it in shock and disbelief. That kind of beast didn't even exist. If was a creature of fantasy and tales. Nonetheless it seemed real.
Then the lid of the pewter cup moved on the hinges and fell down with a small metallic click. The sound woke the painter up from her stupefied staring. It was just a painted sign she was looking at. A man of uncertain age, with brown hair and a cheerful face stood behind a table full of navigation tools, some devices that were unknown to her and ...paper with pictures on? Being a painter she was always drawn to all kinds of pictures, so Yrmellyn took a step closer.
The picture of the red sea-dragon swam in its painted blue ocean.
The man in the stall smiled.
“Welcome” he said in a jovial but soft-spoken tone. His voice was deep and clear, a pleasure to listen to. “Welcome to Chapmans’s Charts and Miraculous Maps!”
Yrmellyn was mostly aiming to just look at the art and handicraft exhibited there, but maybe she would also be able to make some good bargains. She wasn’t a big spender though and would be perfectly happy with just having a good time. Then again, if something special and rare would catch the painter’s attention it might be hard for her to resist it, should the price be reasonable.
The atmosphere of fairs was always lively and exited. There were a lot of interesting things for a painter to watch and think of as motifs, as well as the chance of meeting new people and getting friends and acquaintances in the city. Immortals knew Yrmellyn Cole could need a friend or more. She was able to get by on her own when needed, but it was tough to never have anybody else than herself to rely on.
However...it was no surprise that few were looking to learn to know an unknown painter on her way into her early thirties, without any powerful connections, wealth or other things people find useful enough to buy their friendship for a while. Yrmellyn wasn’t interested in buying and selling friendship though. She wasn’t one of those who think of friendship as a businesslike exchange, worth something only as long as they can profit on it. Totally other values than profit guided how she sometimes bonded with other people. One aspect was her devotion to the immortal Vhalar, the keeper of oaths. Yrmellyn Cole might come off as an irresponsible and reckless artist, wacky even, as artist sometimes may be. It was definitely true that she had such traits, but this wasn’t all she was. There was more to her, which only those would see who stood by her when it counted, just like she stood by them.
Rare and special are the people who wouldn’t sacrifice a friend in order to gain favors for themselves...the fleeting thought arose, went through her mind and faded out again. Special and rare they are...
The first thing the painter did was of course to buy a pint of “art fair mead” which was a brew said to be special for this art market and only available today. The recipe was secret, but nonetheless the signs at the mead stall said that market mead contained “rare spices from faraway lands” and was very exotic indeed. It came with a “fairy pewter cup” with a lid on hinges. The price was higher than for normal Ne’haer mead. People who had already been ripped off in this market in past arcs and were able to bring their own cups got a discount. Yrmellyn had to buy both cup and mead, but the blatant scam just amused her. In her opinion it was part of the attractions at a fair to play along and waste money on at least one exotic joke.
Holding the mead cup in her right hand she continued into the marketplace. There were stalls everywhere and it didn’t seem like anybody had tried to give directions for where and how to put them up. It looked randomized. Yrmellyn liked this. She was no fan of meticulously well-ordered events and preferred somewhat chaotic happenings, like this fair. Content with the atmosphere she looked around. People of all ages and social standings were milling around between the stalls. There were well dressed wealthy matrons with maids in tow, carrying baskets and parcels. There were sailors and soldiers accompanied by servants who had been given - or taken - a trial off work in order to have some fun. There were children of course, running around laughing and shouting, more often than not with cookies in their hands. Yrmellyn suddenly wondered if this meant the children weren’t in school this day, or if they had skipped it...
After walking around for a while she found her way to a less crowded part of the market place. The art and handicraft displayed there was decorative and well made, but seemed more practical and useful compared to some of the spectacular and entertaining things displayed in the more popular stalls. Yrmellyn stopped to look at the weapons in a stall where a number of swords and daggers were for sale. Some of them were elaborate and embellished than others, other of simplistic design, but all of them were more than average beautiful. They were the work of master, no doubt.
“Can I help you?”
It was one of the two young men who were working in the stall. The painter could hear a streak of polite doubt in his tone. Obviously he had just needed to look at the painter once in order to classify her as a person who wasn’t likely to engage in combat. Yrmellyn smiled, shook her head and moved on. The young man shouted the name of the firm and the address of their workshop after her, just in case.
In next stall they had shoes and boots for sale. Although Yrmellyn didn’t think of footwear as art, she supposed it could be called artistic handicraft. The wares weren’t your usual average boots and shoes. Who would for example ever find use for a pair of brown and golden boots with lacing and heels...actually, those weren’t bad, and for an artist like herself they could be right. Yrmellyn tried them on but they weren’t the right size. She was told to come to the shoemaker’s shop a few days later. If the boots would still be unsold they could adjust so they became just right for her.
The painter continued her stroll. By now she had imbibed a good amount of art fair mead, this lovely mysterious brew that didn’t make her feel tipsy at all, just in a good mood and sort of...inspired. She stopped to take one more swig of it.
The sound of a voice from the stall nearby made her turn to the right. When she lowered the cup and looked up a big red sea-dragon filled her vision, swimming in a wild and wavy ocean. For a fraction of a trill Yrmellyn stared at it in shock and disbelief. That kind of beast didn't even exist. If was a creature of fantasy and tales. Nonetheless it seemed real.
Then the lid of the pewter cup moved on the hinges and fell down with a small metallic click. The sound woke the painter up from her stupefied staring. It was just a painted sign she was looking at. A man of uncertain age, with brown hair and a cheerful face stood behind a table full of navigation tools, some devices that were unknown to her and ...paper with pictures on? Being a painter she was always drawn to all kinds of pictures, so Yrmellyn took a step closer.
The picture of the red sea-dragon swam in its painted blue ocean.
The man in the stall smiled.
“Welcome” he said in a jovial but soft-spoken tone. His voice was deep and clear, a pleasure to listen to. “Welcome to Chapmans’s Charts and Miraculous Maps!”