40th of Ymiden, Arc 717
"These lessons are not free, you know," he spoke. The Biqaj Shadowdancer was this time adorned not in blacksmith's attire, but an incredible, black leather armor that spanned from neck to the soles of his feet. He wielded a powerful spear, of quality similar to that of Shadowsong, the one he'd crafted for Alistair just a few trials ago.
"I know," the nobleman replied. "How much do you charge per lesson?" he asked. The man nodded his head.
"Ten gold nel, for a three break lesson. It is expensive, I know, but I am one of the few Shadowdancing masters who is willing to teach others outside of their... Path. The Lotharro are all about their Paths; if you are not in, you are out, and they have little to offer you. They are a collective. The politics of Uthaldria are the politics of Paths -- my politics concern only what will feed my children," he said honestly. Keanu Ki'Lozdara, the man who had first introduced him to this compelling style, one he had found himself unable to be free of the trial before, or the night before that. He had been envisioning Shadowdancing, and practicing it alone, from the moment it entered his mind.
"Fine," he complied, handing the man ten gold nels, individually. Keanu nodded, placing the gold into a bag beneath his table.
"Kibana," he called for his daughter, the girl quickly running down the stairs and to her father. "Bring our daily earnings upstairs, yes? I will be going to the hills with this man -- Alistair is his name. Say hello," he commanded, the girl looking up to the nobleman and nodding her head.
"Hello," she said quietly, shyly. Alistair spoke the same words back. She was a biqaj, like her father. Did that mean he had a biqaj wife around here, somewhere? Alistair hadn't seen anyone but Keanu, Kibana and his apprentice . . . a young Lotharen man with platinum blond hair and a soft face. In fact, he'd seen him again, just now. He guided Kibana down the stairs -- why was he upstairs?
"That is my kindal," he explained. "The Lotharro, I mean."
The mage blinked. Kaiserion had explained this to him previously. Kindal meant... beloved, defended, protected, cherished. It was the word for the submissive partner in a marriage, though from what he'd known, it was considered shameful for a Lotharro to be a kindal to someone of a different race. Was that not a form of social suicide, forging such a dynamic with a biqaj?
"I see," the mage said, nodding. "I've noticed there are . . . a lot of . . . buggerers in Uthaldria," he said awkwardly, causing for the black-clad warrior to laugh.
"Of course, just as there are many flapper-slappers in Augiery," he replied, causing for an outburst of laughter from the nobleman. Flapper-slappers? Lesbians?
"Though not all such relations are romantic - some are... strangely platonic. For example, I initially married Rory as a method of elevating my status. In exchange, I provided him with combat training and a smithing apprenticeship. It was years before our relationship left the field of business and into the realm of pleasure. Just like in your Nothern Realms, many here marry for the sake of politics, finances and other things. But the Lotharro are a passionate people, and they compel passion in others. These marriages of money often transform into different things - marriages of love. Man or woman, it does not matter. In that way, the society before us is quite unique."
The man nodded, though he felt his face pale. This almost sickened him. Not because of the sexuality, nor the passion. It sickened him because after being a Rynmere noble for so long, and therefore abandoning all hope at marrying a man, he found himself jealous of the near-egalitarian standards they held here in the west. It was not only here, but elsewhere too, southwards in Ne'haer or even eastwards in Argos. He'd been repressed, held back by standards of tradition. He had lived in an aristocratic servitude.
Why had he not left and gone here, so long ago? Why had he never asked?
"Kibana -- how was she conceived?" he asked.
"Prostitute. Back before our marriage was quite so personal," the man explained. Alistair nodded. He found it strange that the brothel would not claim ownership of the child, but did not ask. Things were clearly... different here.
"These lessons are not free, you know," he spoke. The Biqaj Shadowdancer was this time adorned not in blacksmith's attire, but an incredible, black leather armor that spanned from neck to the soles of his feet. He wielded a powerful spear, of quality similar to that of Shadowsong, the one he'd crafted for Alistair just a few trials ago.
"I know," the nobleman replied. "How much do you charge per lesson?" he asked. The man nodded his head.
"Ten gold nel, for a three break lesson. It is expensive, I know, but I am one of the few Shadowdancing masters who is willing to teach others outside of their... Path. The Lotharro are all about their Paths; if you are not in, you are out, and they have little to offer you. They are a collective. The politics of Uthaldria are the politics of Paths -- my politics concern only what will feed my children," he said honestly. Keanu Ki'Lozdara, the man who had first introduced him to this compelling style, one he had found himself unable to be free of the trial before, or the night before that. He had been envisioning Shadowdancing, and practicing it alone, from the moment it entered his mind.
"Fine," he complied, handing the man ten gold nels, individually. Keanu nodded, placing the gold into a bag beneath his table.
"Kibana," he called for his daughter, the girl quickly running down the stairs and to her father. "Bring our daily earnings upstairs, yes? I will be going to the hills with this man -- Alistair is his name. Say hello," he commanded, the girl looking up to the nobleman and nodding her head.
"Hello," she said quietly, shyly. Alistair spoke the same words back. She was a biqaj, like her father. Did that mean he had a biqaj wife around here, somewhere? Alistair hadn't seen anyone but Keanu, Kibana and his apprentice . . . a young Lotharen man with platinum blond hair and a soft face. In fact, he'd seen him again, just now. He guided Kibana down the stairs -- why was he upstairs?
"That is my kindal," he explained. "The Lotharro, I mean."
The mage blinked. Kaiserion had explained this to him previously. Kindal meant... beloved, defended, protected, cherished. It was the word for the submissive partner in a marriage, though from what he'd known, it was considered shameful for a Lotharro to be a kindal to someone of a different race. Was that not a form of social suicide, forging such a dynamic with a biqaj?
"I see," the mage said, nodding. "I've noticed there are . . . a lot of . . . buggerers in Uthaldria," he said awkwardly, causing for the black-clad warrior to laugh.
"Of course, just as there are many flapper-slappers in Augiery," he replied, causing for an outburst of laughter from the nobleman. Flapper-slappers? Lesbians?
"Though not all such relations are romantic - some are... strangely platonic. For example, I initially married Rory as a method of elevating my status. In exchange, I provided him with combat training and a smithing apprenticeship. It was years before our relationship left the field of business and into the realm of pleasure. Just like in your Nothern Realms, many here marry for the sake of politics, finances and other things. But the Lotharro are a passionate people, and they compel passion in others. These marriages of money often transform into different things - marriages of love. Man or woman, it does not matter. In that way, the society before us is quite unique."
The man nodded, though he felt his face pale. This almost sickened him. Not because of the sexuality, nor the passion. It sickened him because after being a Rynmere noble for so long, and therefore abandoning all hope at marrying a man, he found himself jealous of the near-egalitarian standards they held here in the west. It was not only here, but elsewhere too, southwards in Ne'haer or even eastwards in Argos. He'd been repressed, held back by standards of tradition. He had lived in an aristocratic servitude.
Why had he not left and gone here, so long ago? Why had he never asked?
"Kibana -- how was she conceived?" he asked.
"Prostitute. Back before our marriage was quite so personal," the man explained. Alistair nodded. He found it strange that the brothel would not claim ownership of the child, but did not ask. Things were clearly... different here.
