Commerce is the Universal Language

[Isurioth]

The high priest Liang Seroditus said in the Erasmus dialogues that, “The words of the wise are like the stone deep in the earth, on which a foundation may be built that will not wash away. But much earth covers that stone, and it is not for stone but for the dominion of the earth that men will launch a thousand ships.” In a way, he was right; philosophy doesn’t pay the taxes. However if he knew what we were doing this day he might have chosen a different metaphor.

Second Admiral Senpastus Ri’ang finished his commentary and carefully put away his writing utensils. After making sure that the ink was properly blotted he rolled up the paper and secured his desk. He hoped to write a book when he return from this voyage, “The Seas of Gold” though the title needed some work. Duty called, and he had used up as much leeway as his position could reasonably grant him.

When he reached the navigation house at the rear he found that the Grand Admiral was already waiting. As luck would have it though Cyfodias Zhang didn’t seem to notice him. He walked forward and saw that a navigational chart was open on the table revealing a section of coast. The route paper laid over the map could only mean one thing, they were going to be landing soon.

“Glad you decided to join us,” the Grand Admiral said loudly enough to be heard in the whole room, “the navigation assistants were starting to wonder if you needed a chart from here to you cabin.”

Choosing to ignore the insult and scrutinize the chart. “Are we sure that this map is accurate, I don’t see any major trading cities.”

“There wouldn’t be, this map is several hundred years old. We received the location from our last stop, they claim we can find a market there.”

“Can those Hrethgir[barbarians] really tell us anything worthwhile? I have examined the goods we received from them and found chaff in the grain; one piece per six hundred of grain.”

“They considered it good enough to eat. We couldn’t really ask them to thresh it more if they eat it now could we? However if this information is accurate this might make up for it. Supposedly this nation, what is it called…” he stopped mid sentence and looked at the Foreign expert on his staff,

“Frozopia Grand Admiral, we are headed to the city of Arath.”

“City, ha I am sure it is to them. Well then, let us see what they have to offer. Second Admiral…”

“Yes sir,”

“Please handle the particulars, I can’t stand the sound of their babble.”

“It will be done sir.”
______

Dawn had broken perhaps two hours ago and many people in Arath were going about their business when a cry went up from the Harbor.

A huge fleet of ships was spotted out to sea, and it showed no signs of ending. Hundreds of ships with strange sails anchored offshore. One, larger then several houses entered the bay and sailed dangerously close to the great statue, the sails almost grazing the spear. When it at last anchored, large stone anchors six in the front eight in back, many smaller ships began to swarm forward. To call them smaller might have been a misnomer, as they were easily larger then a house.

From far out to sea a high sound rang out. As the ships grew closer it resolved into music of some sort; drums and some high and reedy instrument. I range out over the quite morning. The tone of the music foreshadowed every ship movement.

The first one to land was the grandest of those in the harbor. Its hull was a brilliant blue and gold and its sails blue and white. On each sail a symbol, like a swan and a seagull flying in a circle was set out in white. Its front was strange, very flat. When it landed the music became quite besides a much quieter tone coming form the ships outside the harbor. A stairway was lowered in the sight of the crowd of onlookers that had gathered.

A man, with short racking black hair and dressed in some kind of ornate blue and white robe walked down, after the heavily armed guards of course. With him came a slight women in a similar though plainer garment. She walked forward and said in someone broken Frozopian, “We come for trade. We of Orthenia.” The word was strange, it might have been a place or an organization, there was no other context. “We ask make the talk with leader of you.”

So began what promised to be a rather strange day.

[Frozopia]

26th June 1300 AD

"Lord! Huge sails! Many of them. Hundreds!"
Lord Bragon listened to the fisherman with a growing sense of dread. Wherever this navy was from, its sheer size seemed to spell an invasion.
"Captain Harokas! Give the call to arms!"
"Yes my lord!"
The following hours were a whirlwind of activity as the Frozopians prepared to fight a defence of the coastal city of Arath. The city dwellers were dragged from their houses, a spear thrust into their hands before being driven unto the docks where they would make their stand. Lord Bragon stood among them, in full battle armour, dismounted and ready to fight. Behind archers stood ready ontop of the more secure buildings, prepared to unleash a volley of arrows into the decking of the ships.

Of course when the beautiful ships sedately manouvered into the harbour, stopping to hurl out their anchors, Bragon began to have doubts. Strong doubts. And the more he heard the music echoing from the ships, the less it sounded like that used to drive warriors into battle. The drums perhaps. But the extremely irritating high pitched sound? Unless it was some clever attempt to unnerve his men, unlikely. At last when the stairway was lowered unto the docks and the bodyguards stepped onto shore, without making any further steps forward, the knight sighed. Handing his sword and shield to one of his men at arms, he stepped forward.
"Lower your weapons!" He roared at his own men. Cursing his paranoia, the tall bearded knight strode forward to greet the bizzarely robed foreigner.
"Trade eh? Well despite out appearance you have come to the right place." Unsure who to direct his words at, he alternated his glances between the man and the woman.
"Orthenia? I am not sure I have...Never mind. Please do not be alarmed by the weapons we carry. We thought you were an invasion force." Uncertain whether the woman completely understood his words, he pointed up at his palace above the docksides.
"Please follow me."

[Isurioth]

"Well, what did he say?"

"Second Admiral, his speech was quick and his words slurred. i can only tell you the general message."

"Then please do so, I am not the Grand Admiral, I will not call to light your inequities before everyone. Please, just tell me as best you can."

"His first statement was a command to not use weapons. I think it was meant for his soldier."

"Best not to assume,...Sergent, tell your men not to draw unless we are threatened.... What did he say after that?"

"Next he said that this is a good place for exchanges. After that he said has little knowledge of our homeland, and said it was because he had no intelligence."

"Well at least they are polite enough to admit that they are ignorant. That will make this much less unpleasant."

"Indeed. Then he said that they are gathering weapons or warriors for an invasion. I would guess that the barbarians are involved in another one of their endless wars."

"That seems standard enough if I remember my cultural studies. Isn't it common practice to display weapons and soldiers to show that a leader is powerful?"

"You remember rightly sir, when they interact with each other they seek to establish dominance. Feats of strength and sometimes displays of wealth or slaves are also sometimes performed."

"Perhaps there is some truth to the theory that the lessor men are the children of birds, their males seem to have retained their need to fluff themselves up."

"I rather enjoyed that lecture sir, Master Erion'qui has a great way about him. Oh, before I forget, his last words were a request for fealty. I believe he expects some sign of obedience to his rule."

"Well, one must respect the local customs. If we bring along the usual first meeting gift do you think that will suffice?"

"Yes sir, tribute is often used to acknowledge humility and deference among the lessor cultures."

"Very well then, please tell him this..."

After Lord Bragon's welcoming words the man and women talked between themselves for a short time. The women seemed to be conferring with the man who might have been an adviser of some sort. The fact that her tone was at several times indulgent seemed to reinforce this.

At last they seemed to have agreed to something and the man called out to some men on the ship in their strange sounding tongue.

The woman turned to Lord Bragon, saying, "Big lord, we no mean harm. Offer much good luck with war and wish victory for you. We come with gifts. We take to great palace."

While she was speaking porters came from the ship carrying large beautifully worked boxes of various sizes and shapes. Once Lord Bragon began to walk, the man and woman, the guards, and the porters followed in a neat formation.

As they walked the man and woman continued their conversation when they were certain Lord Bragon was not talking.

"Second Admiral, are they really all like this? The streets are...dirty, the people smell, and our host has such animalisitc hair on his face."

"Now now, remember that it is not their fault that they were born to ignorance and poverty. It is to some degree our own fault. If the second dynasty had taken greater steps to be certain the savages knew that we were working for their eventual benefit then they would have understood that revolution was not the right course. As it is, he probably does not know what true civilization is like, as you said, they believe this hovel is a city."

"Yes, you are right. But surly they must have some idea. I mean it is self evident that they live in squalor."

"Very true, but what other way is there? They have not read the great works and to them this might be the best that is possible. That is why one of our jobs here is to introduce them to the works of the masters. Only when their minds are uplifted can their material conditions improve."

"Thank you for reassuring me, I will do my best not to be derisive. After all, if I lived in such conditions I too would wish for a better way."

The conversation was equally as indecipherable. However it appeared that the woman was asking for advice to which the man replied. It appeared she rejected it but he seemed to take it well.

OOC: Don't you love it when translators embellish and when command of languages aren't perfect? Leads to all kinds of interesting incidents.

[Frozopia]

Lord Bragon ignored the chatter, letting the unintelligible words flow over him. Instead he tried to grasp who the hell the bloody leader was: For all he could tell, it was the woman. Unusual, even by foreigner standards.
"If you dont mind me saying, my lord, I told you so." Glancing to his left Lord Bragon was surprised to find the portly Mayor Nerith beside him, nervously scratching his beard. The man was lavishly dressed in horrendous clashing colours of silk. Bragon hid his disgust and ignored him.
"Big lord, we no mean harm. Offer much good luck with war and wish victory for you. We come with gifts. We take to great palace."
"They seem to know of our troubles to the north?" Bragon was puzzled. These...These foreigners must know much of Frozopia. Certainly more than what the Frozopians knew of Orthenia. Whatever the hell that was.
"Indeed. But more importantly I like the sound of this gift." The Mayor grinned and wiped his hands together. His grin widened as more of the boxes were unloaded unto the docks. Bragon sincerely disliked the man.
"Thank you. To the palace!" For the moment Bragon would keep his sentences...Simple.

As the party set of along the main road through the town, a wide uphill stonepath with hundreds of smaller (largely dirt) paths bisecting it, the Frozopian soldiers pushed aside those city folk who were determined to get in the way. They stood gaping at the foreigners, a few even stepping closer to try and touch them. These were promptly hit with a shield by one of Harokas's men. Although the town was frequented by strange and exotic people, never before had they arrived with such bombasity.

As the road climed higher above the docks, the quality of buildings improved. No longer were the buildings poorly constructed from wood, little hovels of no value. Instead grand stone buildings rose up in all directions. Servants, better dressed than most of the city folk in the docks, busily strode through the streets as they performed their daily duties. At the centre of the city, a small green park, and rising above it was Lord Bragon's Keep. A gate was pulled up, and the Frozopians lead their guests in.

[Isurioth]

The walk was uneventful, though both the second admiral and the foreign expert were mildly miffed that their host did not offer them a rickshaw or carriage of some kind. Perhaps he was trying to show of the wealth and prosperity of his city.

When they arrived at what was obviously a military fortification of some kind they were ushered inside a large room. Plainly this was where negotiations were to take place. If they were trying to intimidate them they were wasting their effort.

After a short conversation between the man and the women she stood facing their host while he was a little further back to her left.

He would say something and a servant would bring one of the boxes. She would then speak to the lords to describe the object.

“For you, to make peace. We offer gifts so trade can start. Firstly a… ” the word was not in Frozopian.

Two servants brought a long box of dark wood. The man went over and opened it revealing…straw. As if to make up for the rather strange gift he seemed to be sweeping it inside the box. However when he had moved some away from a spot of the top and took his hand back what was now visible was a block of ice. The whole case was full of a block of ice.

So the ritual continued, the woman announcing and describing as best she could; a silk tapestry, a long sword of amazing workmanship with a blade that had a pattern like waves on it, a case with twelve glass bottles in it that contained, “whine”, a small box of some kind of little stone called incense that you were supposed to burn, and three little glass bottles of some strange powders full of something called chili powder, pepper, and cinnamon.

When all this had been presented she returned to the man who exchanged a few words and turned back to her hosts.

[Frozopia]

Lord Bragon, as well as the rest of the Frozopians in the meeting chamber, were...Underawed by the gifts. Although the sword was clearly brilliant and the small quantities of wine would be appreciated, the remaining items were just plain bizarre. Bragon wasn't sure if the ice was a joke: If it was, it was a rather good one.
Yet the Frozopians knew how to treat foreigners, even if they didn't know how to be actors: There were gasps, applauces and murmurs of confusion appreciation. Lord Bragon managed a glance at Nerith and much to his amusement the man was barely containing his disapointment. Thus when he turned back onto the Orthenian delegation, his smile was natural.

"We appreciate the gifts! I apologise, had I known of your journey to Frozopia in advance, we would have had our own gifts to give you. Normally...We would engage in further formalities, but I fear our language is too big a barrier to permit that. Instead we should talk of business. Please. Take a seat." Servants entered the room carrying heavy, well carved wooden chairs. They then proceeded to lay down comfortable cushions.

"So. What do you need? And what do you want?" Bragon did not mean to be so direct, but he knew it would be easier for the woman to understand if he kept to short sentences.

[Isurioth]

Ri’ang was not impressed by the barbarians. While the gifts were presented he watched the eyes of the flatterers. It was obvious they were being polite but had no idea what it was they were offered. Clearly this was a primitive people who did not even know the value of spices.

After he was seated he conferred quickly with Ju’di.

“It seems we have indeed come to a stupid people.”

“Second admiral, how can that be, they seemed to be impressed by the gifts.”

“No, I believe they were confused more than anything. The lord wants us gone as soon as possible and if what you said is correct wants to get to business without the normal rituals.”

“But why, these were princely gifts or so I understand. Why for so much incense you could by the fortress in many lands. At the last port the pepper was worth 10 times its weight in gold.”

“True, but to a people without currency gold is simply a useless shiny yellow rock. We must make them aware of the value of what we have. Do you still have that scroll?”

“Of course second admiral, you instructed me to bring it before we had landed.”

“So I did. Would you please read it, I think it might help somewhat.”

“Are you sure admiral? I know we told them what we wanted to say and wrote down what they said in return, but is it really reliable?”

“I don’t see as we have much choice if we want to get full value for our goods.”


“Most gracious lord and assembled men of honor:

As is apparent a barrier of language stands between us.

Thus it would be unkind of us to begin business with you at this time. For the gifts we have presented are a sample of some of the many wondrous things we offer. Thus to begin our transaction with you unaware of its value would be a sign of great rudeness.

In order to be sure this trade is fair and equitable we invite you to sample and otherwise test these products. Then we will be reassured that we do not cheat you in any way.”

With that several servants opened boxes they were holding and set to work.

Glasses of the finest crystal were filled with a deep rich wine. Nearly transparent porcelain plates were laid down with meat and a sauce of some kind while silver forks were delicately laid down on white silk napkins.

On smaller plates a pastry of some kind was set.

When all was said and done each of the seated Frozopians had a small meal before them on what had to be the best crystal and porcelain in the world.

OOC: Okay, to save me the trouble of typing long description I am just going to say what all the food is. The wine is a Pétrus, a form of Bordeaux and in RL is the most expensive wine in the world. There are small plates of Yorkshire pudding filled with gravy and vegetables. The large plates have cold cuts of roast beef that has been seasoned. The sides for the meat are Horseradish sauce, English mustard, and gravy. The deserts are sticky buns. If I have no idea what real English food is in a vain attempt to appeal to your RL tastes, then my problem.
All the portions are very small; say about a bite or two of any one particular thing.

[Frozopia]

Lord Bragon tasted the wine. It was good. VERY good.
"Delicious!" He nodded at the translator.
Beside him Nerith busily gobbled down the platters infront of him, not hesitating to steal from his neighbours dishes, much to Bragon's disgust. The fat man paused only to grunt in agreement.

"These foods will definately be appreciated in Frozopia! This is best exhibited by our fine mayor here..."

At this another man entered the hall, bowing low to the Lord and as well as the Orthenian envoys.
"My lord! I apologise for the interuption, but the gladiators are here!"

Lord Bragon smiled.
"Perhaps business can wait! We maybe unable to communicate easily, but there are some things that are universally enjoyed, reguardless of language! Much like this food..."
Realising most of his words would not be understood, he sighed. "Alow the gladiators in. Servants! Erect a suitable arena!"

OOC: will add more later, feel free to post in the meanwhile.

[Trancelium]

.

[Isurioth]

"It would seem you were right about the feats of strength part. A ritual duel of some kind?"

"I have no way of knowing what our traditions have become in the intervening years. However, isn't it about time this farce comes to an end?"

"No, I propose to continue for a short time. When they think us fools they will show us a side they would not to those they believed could threaten them."

"Can we at least speak intelligently with each other? It is getting hard to find metaphors."

"That at least I think we can do. What did he say by the way?"

"Some kind of competition, a blood sport I believe. It depicts the battle between some false god and a demon of some sort."

"...I suppose we will have to endure this. Would you be so kind as to ask him if we could submit an entrant?"

"You can't honestly be considering..."

"No, of course not! I intend to show them that so great is our strength that we are casual with it. It is to cause him to fear what we would be like fully roused."

"You think that will work?"

"You think that down their depicts any actual event? Both questions are equally irrelevant, this is procedure, and thus must be followed.

Captain...please bring whichever of the masters drew the short straw today. Tell him to come in the plain robes."

[Frozopia]

The temporary arena was set up within the courtyard outside the keep: A white circle was drawn in the grass and seats were laid down around the ring, at a suitable and safe distance. Servants brought food and wine for the guests, and although it was simpler fair than that provided by the Orthenians, it was not lacking in quality.

"We do not normally hold these bouts on grass, but on special occasions we like to return the blood of our mighty warriors back to the earth. We believe it quickens the journey of their souls into the warrior halls of the afterlife."

Lord Bragon really didn't know why he bothered. They definitely didn't understand that.

"Gladiators much skill. Win many fights. Should be good!"

Maybe they understood that. As he spoke the sun pierced through the clouds above, illuminating the courtyard. It was a fine day for a fight.

“Servants! Bring our guests some shade.”

The head servant, an old but efficient man inherited from Bragon's father, was beside him.

“Yes my lord. Do you wish to see the gladiators now?”

“Yes. Remind them to be especially respectful towards our guests!”

“Of course my lord.”

The two gladiators stepped through the opposite gates of the courtyard. Both men were tall, well muscled warriors who moved with a cat like grace. Each bore the armour typical of a Frozopian gladiator: A simple steel chest plate, a mail kilt and a full face helm. It left their arms and legs completely exposed to increase the amount of bloodshed as well as to maximise mobility, while their major organs were protected to prolong the fight. The faces of their helmets were normally carved to depict Frozopian gods and demons, indeed for it would be these deities who's battles they re-enacted. A third man followed the gladiators, ordering the gladiators to wait by their respective gates before walking into the arena.

“Greeting Orthenians. Greetings Frozopians!” The man bowed low. “Today I bring you Raknar and Scourth! Today we celebrate the mighty battle these two titans fought many millenia ago. Raknar, decieved by his brother in arms Creetin, was told he could find the great sword Drusk within the fiery depths of hell. What Creetin did not tell Raknar, was that it was defended by the Demon Scourth, a peerless warrior of the darkness. The result would be epic battle that would shake the very earth itself!”

The two gladiators stepped into the ring, bowing low first to the audience, and then to each other. 'Scourth' wielded twin swords, wickedly sharp and black as night. His mask depicted a black fire spitting demon. His opponent 'Raknar' carried a small round shield and a shortened halberd. His mask depicted a grey wolf. Both men also wore a short sword on their belts.

“Gladiators....Commence!”

The two men circled each other...

[Isurioth]

As the preparations were being made a man of unassuming appearance and height joined the Orithenian envoys with the returning captain. He was wearing loose white pants and a similar jacket. His hair was cropped short. The only thing that set him apart was six gold cloth strips on his belt. He held himself very still, and didn't look at anyone in particular.

The woman walked over to their host and said,

"Want honor you gods. Fight man ask join. Bring much hard fight for gods."

[Frozopia]

It was a good fight and it did not take long for the audience to start chanting the names of their favoured warriors. "Raknar" was the favourite of course: He was the tragic hero of Frozopian legend, the finest of warriors betrayed by one of his closest friends. However more than a few took up support for "Scourth", probably just for the sake of it. Something the gladiator appreciated as the battle began to test his steely discipline.

Raknar kept him at range, using quick thrusts to drive Scourth towards the edge of the arena. If either of the gladiators exited the arena, they would be dishonoured first and then executed. They might as well have been surrounded by a wall. Stepping back from one thrust, then another, Scourth parried the last, driving the halberd outwards with the edge of his left sword before darting forwards with his right sword extended. However Raknar was ready for the charge, side stepping the sword before slamming his shield into his opponents face. Scourth stumbled backwards, but used the momentum to leap sideways from Raknars halberd as the gladiator brought the weapon around in a sideways swing. It was a testamount to the warriors skill that even in armour with two swords drawn, he turned the leap into a roll, regaining his balanced pose. Spitting blood, Scourth charged forwards and at close range the two men hacked, slashed and dodged for a few intense moments. Scourth scored ringing blows on his opponents helm, shield and chest plate but only a few drew blood. Raknar terminated the clash, bringing the halberd around in a almighty swing that crunched through armour and threw Scourth sideways and to the ground, bringing the weapon with him. Suddenly the audience was silent. Struggling to breath, the gladiator stood. Looking down the gladiator wrenched the halberd from his chest plate and then hurled it from the ring.

“No blood!” Bragon stood to applaud and the spectators joined in. The armour had crumbled under the impact, but it had prevented the blade from cleaving straight through the mans chest. Scourth probably had a broken rib or two, but he would fight on.

Raknar drew his shortsword and clapped it on his shield to a steady beat. The final moments were coming. Once again Scourth charged forwards and for the next few minutes the two men exchanged ring blows in a flurry of steel. Steadily they both slowed, weakened by the blood flowing freely from their many wounds. Raknar blocked a thrust with his shield and replied in kind, only to find his opponent dancing off to the side. Scourth had time to score a deep cut along Raknar's arm. With nerveless fingers Raknar dropped his short sword and staggered, falling to his knee's. The audience fell silent in anticipation of the kill.

Scourth hurled away his left sword and stepped forward, raising his other sword above him with both hands, ready to deal the final blow. But Raknar was defiant to the end, hurling himself at his opponent and both men hit the ground, throwing the sword from Scourth's hands. Raknar raised his shield and brought it down, dealing a vicious blow to Scourths helm. Once. Twice. Three times. Scourth groaned as his vision blurred and he drifted into unconsciousness.

Not like this.

Suddenly Raknar stopped, staggering backwards, choking blood. Scourth had somehow drawn his shortsword and plunged it into his neck. Raknar fell. And died.

Once again the audience exploded. Lord Bragon strode into the ring himself, helping Scourth to his feet as he roared congratulations into the gladiator's ear. Servants took the gladiator of him, helping the bloody man into a stretcher.

As the preparations were being made a man of unassuming appearance and height joined the Orithenian envoys with the returning captain. He was wearing loose white pants and a similar jacket. His hair was cropped short. The only thing that set him apart was six gold cloth strips on his belt. He held himself very still, and didn't look at anyone in particular.

The woman walked over to their host and said,

"Want honor you gods. Fight man ask join. Bring much hard fight for gods."

Lord Bragon laughed.
“Yes! I believe we have a third gladiator in waiting. Garen!” Garen was the gladiator's contract owner who gave the speech prior to the match “Garen bring out the third gladiator! These Orthenians have one among them who is fit for a scrap!”

The third gladiator was not unalike his colleagues. His armour was similar but for his mask, which depicted the sun. In one hand he carried a morning star, the other a shield. Again he wore a sword upon his belt, although this one was longer.

“Gentlemen! I present you the eternal light: Deyus!”

[Isurioth]

The Orthenian man walked where he was directed and entered the arena. He was wearing no armor save his robes. He reached into his robes and pulled out one item. It was a metal stick with a ring on it. This he slipped over his right middle finger.

He walked a set distance from his opponent and bowed while never letting his eyes lower. While he did so he spoke some short words and rose again. Then he waited for the other man to make the first move.

OOC: This guy is a Ninja Sholin Monk hybrid who is a blackbelt in Muay Thai, Krava maga, Bak Mei, and Kyokushin karate. He is also a Yogi and a master of Varma Adi.

Have fun with the corpse of your sun god