Suvarnabhumi (Gunpowder PT/FanT, IC)

[Wolfenium]

Worachet, outside Ayutthaya
13 Mes̄ʹāyn, 2163 B.E. (Buddhist Era)/13th April, 1620 C.E. (Common Era)

Worachet village, outside the capital of the Kingdom of Ayutthaya. A quaint little hamlet within an hour's trek of the capital's gates, Worachet has seen many conflicts over the past century. Four times, the capital has had to endure siege by the Burmese invaders, and four times, the undefended village had suffering looting, massacres and rape. But after each devastating war, Worachet rebuilt itself, its wooden houses cropping up almost as fast as it was burnt down. But few in the village and the nearby port knew what the next would entail, as Ayutthaya prepares for its next punitive campaign.

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up...”

Hobbling in a disoriented walk, a strange man, shrouded from head to toe in a mud-stained rag, staggers through the village road. As passing farmers and other villagers made their rounds, the unnerving presence of the muttering figure put many at arms-length. An ungainly figure with a foul, decaying stench, his robes flapped so greatly it seemed like he had nothing but skin and bones within. The incessant chanting, as if trying to silence the very breeze fluttering in the air, was even more eerie. As some dismissed him as a psycho and sought to clear away, others took more serious action, wary of his appearance.

“That's him,” a housewife carrying a basket of vegetables informed a pair of soldiers, pointing out the stranger in the middle of the road, “that's the man. Must be some sort of crazy vagrant. He's scaring us to death.”

Armed with a spear and a circular shield, the brimmed hat soldiers in red uniforms were at a loss at what to do. While the stumbling character did not appear to have caused trouble, his disturbing behaviour seemed to be a bad sign in itself. Buttoning up their lips, the nervous guards could only rue their luck on their patrol, as the villagers eggs them to remove the interloper. Shaking his head, one of the guards finally stepped forward to act, as his comrade followed to confront the stranger.

“Alright, alright,” one of the soldiers declared with disinterest, frowning a bit at dealing with the complaint. Blocking the stranger's way, the lad declared in his most authoritative voice, “hey you! Yeah, you! What're you doing bothering these poor villagers!? Get out!”

Pointing his finger at the hunched figure, the young guard could see a pair of eyes glaring from under the hood, a lifeless stare devoid of light as the figure paid heed for a moment. His random chants of 'shut up' halted for a moment, interrupted by the guard's taunting. But as the figure's attention broke away again, he began repeating his bizarre mantra, albeit slowed and irregular. His twitching had also grown more erratic, disturbed by the interruption.

“Shut up,” he blurted at random, as if directing it at the offending guard as his head darted around at the onlookers along the road, “shut up! Shut up. Shuddup Shuddup. Shut up.”

“OI,” snapped the second guard, incensed by his apparent ignorance of them, “I'm talking to you, whelp! Do you want us to haul you to the barracks for questioning, or toss you out of the gates!?”

“Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up,” the agitated stranger continued to be jabber, trying to cup his ears as if he was being bombarded by the yelling.

“HEY! LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU,” yelled the first guard, becoming incensed at the figure as the latter tries to turn away. Seizing the stranger's arm, the guard tried to haul him in as an example. But something was off; the stranger's arm failed to budge, his strength pulling the guard in as he suddenly turned to the soldier.

“Ah,” blurted the figure, locking eyes with the surprised guard, “aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

The guard barely saw it coming. For a brief moment, he could see the full horror of the stranger he confronted, his pale face drained of life as pustules of black clustered all over, deforming his appearance as his very veins turn a sickly purple. As his diseased blood raged, his bony, plague-ridden arm turned a dark shade, hardening into an obsidian-like limb as the panicked guard released him and wiped his hand on his clothes. In a split second, however, the guard's vision turned into a swift darkness, as the figure threw his arm back in a blunt swing. In one strike, the entire village watched as the guard's skull cracked open in a flurry of red and grey, his colleague paralysed with fear by the effortless killing.

“M-Monster,” the frightened guard screamed, drawing his spear as he charged to take down the stranger. To his horror, however, the stranger surged forward with inhuman speed, seizing his head as he smacked him to the floor. In manic rage, the assailant got on his knees to pummel the lad in full view, the guard's ragdoll continually tenderized long after his heart had stopped beating.

“SHUT UP,” the crazed man continued to yell, hammering the corpse in a deranged banter, “SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!!!! SHUT UP! SHUT UPP!!! SHUT UP!... SHUT UP! SHUT UP!!!!!... Shut up... Shut up...”

Pausing for a moment, an eerie silence fell as the diseased killer sated his rage, panting heavily as he remain knelt in front of his victims. Stunned and horrified, the onlooking villagers paled at the sight of the butcher, unable to move. And then, as a hapless farmer tried to shift away, his leg made a soft scrape of the ground. With pitch-perfect hearing, the stranger suddenly eyed the offending farmer with grave malice, as if the villagers were heckling him with drums.

The farmer's scream would be the first of many in a bloody symphony, as blood stained the once peaceful village of Worachet. For the fifth time within a century, the hamlet was to suffer once again. This time, however, would be different. Ayutthaya would not be resisting conquest, but annihilation.

OOC Thread

Ayutthaya
13 Mes̄ʹāyn, 2163 B.E. (Buddhist Era)/13th April, 1620 C.E. (Common Era)

Khaek Lopburi - Legend of Suriyothai Soundtrack

Ayutthaya, heart of Suvarnabhumi. Situated on an island where the Chao Phraya, Noi, Lop Buri and Pa Sak rivers merge, the capital of the Thai kingdom remains a bustling hive of activity. Carts pulled by water buffalos shuttle in and out of the gates, bringing fresh produce and goods along the dirt roads. Female hawkers peddle their wares in makeshift stands in the market square, haggling with customers for the best prices in town. And the city's many temples continue to ring with daily prayers, as monks went with their duties of meditation and tending to the locals' spiritual needs.

But Ayutthaya was not just a Thai city. In its ever expanding knowledge of the world, Ayutthaya's ports have opened for traders from across the globe. Quarters for all sorts, from the Portuguese to Indians to Japanese, have formed in the city, some created to cater to trade relations, and others out of a desire for a safe haven. Churches, mosques and Hindu temples stand side by side with the monasteries, though foreigners took care not to offend the king's sensibilities. As turmoil of succession, culminating in the death of the last king, Si Saowaphak, settles under the untested King Songtham, many feared this state of affairs may change. For now, life goes on in the capital, as life always has.

Located in the palace grounds, the barracks are choked with mercenaries of all shades. Crowded with vagabonds, cutthroats and other hired swords, the barracks staff were busy signing the rogues on, with promises of bounty luring many in. Most there believed the new king was planning a campaign against one of Ayutthaya's many neighbours, with the usual dream of conquest in mind. Looking on at the cacking band, however, the commander on site, an unusual-looking East Asian in Siamese steel armour and a thin curved sword, had reason to be nervous. He was briefed by his liege on the campaign, and he had little hopes of success.

“I feel somewhat guilty sending these rogues in,” grumbled the officer in Thai to a native subordinate, his accent showing in his tone, “they don't know what's happening in the countryside.”

“They are but wayward souls, Sir Yamada,” stated the adjutant simply stated in a calm tone, shutting his eyes, “you need not concern about those who pit their lives on the line. I can only pray they find peace after.”

“Still,” he admitted, chewing on his straw stalk, “this isn't like fighting people. You saw those things back then. They're virtually unkillable.”

“But they are mortal, Sir,” the adjutant stated, “you slew one with a thrust into its blackened heart.”

Spitting out the stalk in dismay, however, the Japanese replied solemny, “easier said than done, I'm afraid. Plundering Nanban ships is hard enough. This is suicide.”

Regardless of his dubious morality, Yamada Nagamasa was not one to wage his life on something this risky. True, he had staked his life on battle in search of fame and fortune, but this was a fight with little reward and great mortality. However, he too had some measure of honour, and he was not about to abandon Ayutthaya. After all, what lord hires a ronin who breaks his oath, having refused to redeem it at the cost of his own life.

[Sonitusia]

al-Dhahab Mosque, Ayutthaya
13th Rejeb, 1550 J.E. (Javanese Era)/13th April, 1620 C.E.

"Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh... Assalamualaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh..."

Raising hands to her face in completion of the second daily prayer today, a young woman covered head to toe in white cloth made her invocations to Allah, hoping that her wishes would be heard. From the duration it took, there seemed to be quite a number of them, and she was left by herself as men who had already completed their own prayers had left the building in a herd, save for those in the front rows, their recitation of the holy Quran faintly humming through the air. Otherwise it was quiet and peaceful.

Once finished, she finally stood up, standing to an impressive height that most women, even men, could never achieve. Taking off the mukena, the dark-skinned woman revealed a well built body, as if chiseled by the finest Roman sculptors. Her neck-length hair was as brown as the finest bark of wood, as were her eyes. Every time she took a step, the ground would shake ever so slightly, and it was more and more apparent that she was more of a man than those of the gender. She wore a traditional batik tunic, sleeveless to allow freedom of movement, and began to put on what seemed to be a light amount of brass armor before exiting.

Stepping outside the mosque, the woman gazed towards the bright afternoon sky, shading her eyes slightly with a hand to avoid completely burning them out. Slung across her shoulder was an intricate-looking flintlock musket; Ottoman in design and aesthetic. Walking down the staircase, she playfully rapped the head of an awaiting man, of whom looked to be on his guard at almost all moments. A sword was tied to the left of his waist, along with a spear kept on his back besides a satchel. But he wasn't completely traditional; a dragon handgun hung near his right hand.

"I see you're finished with your prayers, Putri," the man said in Minangese, rubbing his head.

"Aye, I wonder when you'll decide to join me, Dalang," the woman replied, a smile on her face, though it was momentarily replaced with one of mild annoyance, "And I told you to call me Zahra. We've left Pagaruyung for months and I've told you day by day already."

"Forgive me... I simply cannot let go of the habit," Dalang admitted, shaking his head, hoping his liege would understand. There were some things that should be dropped when you're no longer home, but for the 30 year old man, Zahra's honorific title was not one of them. The princess simply sighed, looking across the street before the mosque, whiffing the air and seemingly detecting a very delightful smell.

"Let's get some lunch then," she decided, "I've been meaning to try the cuisine around here."

[Free Empire of the Low Isles]

Riverside Slums, Ayutthaya, Ayutthayan Kingdom,
31st Chaitra, 1026 A.B. (Anno Bengala)/ 13th April, 1620 A.D. (Anno Domini)

Ardhendu quickly picked up and poured the piping hot water over the mushed leaves in his mug, frowning slightly as his hands bore the brunt of the heat that radiated from the container. He had felt worse before, of course, so this minor morning practice didn't bothering the monk physically. At least, not as much as it did mentally. This habit for drinking tea at obscene hours in the morning, having woken up before the sun to watch it rise, was something Hendu had picked up from Hajo before the monastery had been raided. For a reason that Hendu never was able to pry from the older man, Hajo enjoyed torturing himself with sleeplessness just for the simple pleasure of seeing a thing he sees everyday hurry to meet the world while the warm and delicate taste of tea ran down his throat. Perhaps the older monk did just enjoy simple beauty in nature, or mayhap he enjoyed simply being awake before anyone else so he could seem like a mysterious, wise, old guru.

Which he had been, but that was neither here nor there.

Tea made its way seemingly slowly down Ardhendu's throat, feeling more like sludge than clear water in the haze of sleep and exhaustion he felt. The day before this he had awaken early, like every morning, and then helped the local Thai people with some of their more menial tasks, such as moving drinking water around and dispersing food as well as a bit of carting around trade goods. After that, he settled in to the front of his hut, waiting for the usual cast of characters to approach in need of medical attention. It was a good way to gain experience, treating the poor for free, and he saw many different ailments that he never would have seen staying in his monastery. Things such as old plagues come anew, to be treated with new ointments and tinctures, and new European diseases that needed a few interesting cures. He saw the usual trauma as well, such as broken bones, cuts, scrapes, concussions, and many, many imbalances of chakras. Sadly, though, while the work did bring experience, it didn't do much for Ardhendu's own trauma, that being his quickly shrinking and shrieking stomach. So, today he decided he would shake things up a little, and instead of going to his hut after helping the locals with their physical labor needs, he made his way into the glorious city of Ayutthaya.

Ayutthaya was the jewel of Suvarnabhumi, a city so dense and beautiful that tales were told of it as far as Viet Nam to the east and eastern Bengal to the west. Of course, to many people, such as the Japanese, the Ming, the Europeans, or the richer Indians, this city was really nothing more than a jumped up outpost on the edges of civilization that had some slight potential. To Ardhendu, it was the most amazing city he had ever visited, ever seen, ever imagined really. The amount of varying culture and individualism was astounding, the colors of the clothes was nigh on tear inducing, and the art of the people was so beautiful it did produce tears from even some of the most somber men. And the religions, all of them, living together peacefully in one city, was truly inspiring to a pacifist such as he. Many times Ardhendu had just walked through the city and enjoyed its sounds and sights and people, but this was not his goal today. Some time ago, Ardhendu had heard that the king was looking for mercenaries to work on some form of bounty, and while this was not particularly conducive work to his pacifist beliefs, Ardhendu needed the money to continue his charity work for the slums, so he was making his way to the barracks of the great city.

On his way, though, the young monk's stomach growled louder than any time before, and he decided that it might be a good idea to beg some charity out of others instead of solely giving it out. Greater men had fallen on harder times than he, and recovered with the help of others, so why should he not beg for food just this once?

Using his eyes and ears, Ardhendu kept an eye out for churches, or mosques, or other such buildings, knowing that people felt much more charitable when going into or leaving places of worship. He found one such building, which he believed was called the 'al-Dhahab Mosque', and slowed his pace around it, searching. While Hendu was reluctant to prostrate himself ask beg from Muslims, the Buddha always preached forgiveness and that all men were different to others. That, and zealous Muslims were more likely to give to random beggars simply because their religion demanded it.

Spotting a woman of what he assumed was Malaysian descent coming out of the mosque, the monk, quick and quiet, made his way over to her before bowing his lowest. "Dear lady, could you, in all your kindness and beauty, find some simple change to give to this beggar to find food for the day?" he asked in Malay, holding out his hands gently.

The fat, ugly Malaysian woman, who went by the name Aisyah, turned from the conversation she had been having with a sneer on her lips, raising a hand and striking the poor monk in front of her with a loud smack. "Why would I dare give anything to such a disgusting, ratty little infidel!?" she yelled, making quite a scene before huffing and puffing her way to her next meal, leaving Ardhendu on the ground and holding his cheek, stunned.

He chuckled, and looked around, catching eyes with several people, perhaps including Zahra, before smiling and shrugging. "Apparently, your Allah does not gift all Muslims with a kind heart."

[Android (Ancient)]

Kham jostled his way through the crowd, his straw hat tilted low and his traveling shawl pulled tightly around him. Much as he liked his vestments, the bright orange robe drew too much attention, and he'd wagered in the city anonymity would be better protection than divine providence. There'd been some panic in one of the outlying villages, Wora-something, and the traffic at the city gates was worse than usual, half the road blocked by a water buffalo on its side, moaning and generally raising a havoc as a merchant, his driver, and a few hired hands swarmed around it.

"Just kill it!" a man called from the back of the gawking crowd. "Shut up!" said another. The more daring vagrants dashed forward by ones or twos to nab a stray head of cabbage or somesuch from the edge of the scene. As Kham reached the front, one of the guards jabbed his finger in the trader's face, swearing at him in guttural Thai accented with something quite foreign but indistinct. That was new, in the city. Kham had met people from more nations in the past three days on the road than he had in thirty years in the mountain kingdoms, and he still couldn't quite wrap his head around it, pleasant as they were. He slipped quietly behind the soldier and continued on his way.

He'd always been good at that, just getting by. Not hiding exactly, just not being noticed, not being notable. It had kept him alive, as a young man fleeing invasion by a foreign power and now as an older man having barely escaped a power utterly alien.

Which, he reminded himself, he was now signing up to fight, like a complete fool. Surely, in this city awash with Ming generals, samurai from the far north, musketeers from the West, putting the life of one scrawny Vietnamese half-monk on the line would make the difference! Kham shook his head. He was here to fight, not to run. No more running.

A loud shriek jerked him from his reverie. In the square ahead, a monk, looking of Indian stock, lay sprawled, surrounded by a circle of Moslems presumably just out of the mosque ahead. A portly Malaysian woman was on the tail end of what looked to be an all-star effort at berating him, and though the language was a mystery to Kham the tone was quite clear. It seemed he'd been right about the religious prejudices, at least, of this place. Ducking past an impossibly tall armored woman and what was either her father or her servant, he knelt over the man, pulling aside his cloak to expose the familiar orange and racking his brain for words the man might understand. He settled on the local Thai, reasoning his fellow monk had at least made it to Ayutthaya.

"Are you alright, my brother?"

[Sonitusia]

Spotting a woman of what he assumed was Malaysian descent coming out of the mosque, the monk, quick and quiet, made his way over to her before bowing his lowest. "Dear lady, could you, in all your kindness and beauty, find some simple change to give to this beggar to find food for the day?" he asked in Malay, holding out his hands gently.

The fat, ugly Malaysian woman, who went by the name Aisyah, turned from the conversation she had been having with a sneer on her lips, raising a hand and striking the poor monk in front of her with a loud smack. "Why would I dare give anything to such a disgusting, ratty little infidel!?" she yelled, making quite a scene before huffing and puffing her way to her next meal, leaving Ardhendu on the ground and holding his cheek, stunned.

He chuckled, and looked around, catching eyes with several people, perhaps including Zahra, before smiling and shrugging. "Apparently, your Allah does not gift all Muslims with a kind heart."

Embarrassment.

For the majority of those who had seen the event unfurl before them, shame could be felt on the hearts and minds of the small Islamic community who had momentarily gathered, pausing to take a look, not showing anger towards Aisyah, neither pity for the Bengali monk. It was a times like these that the people required guidance, but where would such help come from? For now, all they could do was try to look away, walk from the madness as another Buddhist arrived, trying to support his fellow believer. Zahra, who believed in equality between religions, was prepared to berate the lady, but she had disappeared along with the coming of the other monk.

Not belonging to either religion, Dalang had his fingers wrapped around the hilt of his blade, cautious of the danger that may occur. As if she could see however, Zahra reached back and placed her palm against his hand, shaking her head to calm him down. Scowling, he dutifully let go of the weapon, but kept his guard up. Just in case.

She began walking towards the two monks, looking at the condition of the one sprawled on the ground after being struck. Despite the muck upon him, he had very well defined muscles. If he were to clean himself some more, the man might've actually been rather attractive to some of the more love struck women out there. The other, much neater though noticeably sweating monk, was normally built for someone who meditated daily. He was speaking to the stronger monk in what she believed to be Thai, and so she waited until they were finished before deciding on what to say.

Recalling he spoke Malay towards the unfriendly woman earlier, she said to both of them in Minangkabau, "Care to join us? I happen to have quite a large pocket today."

She hoped they understood, but for good measure, Zahra gestured her thumb towards the nearby stall selling Tom Yam.

[Free Empire of the Low Isles]

A loud shriek jerked him from his reverie. In the square ahead, a monk, looking of Indian stock, lay sprawled, surrounded by a circle of Moslems presumably just out of the mosque ahead. A portly Malaysian woman was on the tail end of what looked to be an all-star effort at berating him, and though the language was a mystery to Kham the tone was quite clear. It seemed he'd been right about the religious prejudices, at least, of this place. Ducking past an impossibly tall armored woman and what was either her father or her servant, he knelt over the man, pulling aside his cloak to expose the familiar orange and racking his brain for words the man might understand. He settled on the local Thai, reasoning his fellow monk had at least made it to Ayutthaya.

"Are you alright, my brother?"

A shadow fell over Ardhendu while he was smiling kindly at the emotionless group around him, the Muslims reacting at the scene with a strange mix of muted shame and lack of interest. As the crowd moved off, Hendu finally looked up at Kham with a smile and got up quote easily, gently helping the older monk up as well. "I am perfectly fine, brother." he responded quietly in Thai, "And happier than ever now, seeing that I am not the only foreign monk in this city. I would offer to treat you to lunch, but you see... that was the purpose of my... previous confrontation. I have fallen on hard times it seems, but the Buddha provides."

The younger monk started brushing more muck off of his body, frowning slightly at the dirt before sighing good-naturedly. "Oh, yes, I have forgotten my manners!" he exclaimed, before bowing low to Kham and rising with, what was now seemingly obvious, his seemingly eternally present smile. "My name is Ardhendu, brother. May I have yours?"

Recalling he spoke Malay towards the unfriendly woman earlier, she said to both of them in Minangkabau, "Care to join us? I happen to have quite a large pocket today."

She hoped they understood, but for good measure, Zahra gestured her thumb towards the nearby stall selling Tom Yam.

An impossibly tall woman, armored in flashing bronze or brass and quite beautiful, approached Ardhendu and Kham in a few strides, the ground almost visibly shaking by the power of her legs. Hendu frowned for a moment as he stared at her, mouthing the Minangkabau words for a moment, but had to glance at the food stall before they started to make sense. "Ah!" he exclaimed, bowing before her in respect. "There are such things as a kind heart here! Thank you, thank you, I would most certainly love to take up your offer. Though, I will not talk for my brother here." he said in Malay while gesturing at Kham.

"She wishes to pay for us to join her for a meal, brother." Hendu explained to Kham in Thai.

[Android (Ancient)]

Kham returned Ardhendu's bow, hand clutched to his hat. Between the sweat glistening on his brow in the infernal coastal heat and his unimpressive stature, it didn't look particularly regal, but the greeting was heartfelt.

"The Buddha provides indeed.", he said, trying to place the man's accent. "I am Kham Kitou, of Lan Na. The Muslims in this city are rather more haughty than those to the south, or so I am told."

Kham glanced around at the cracked dirt uncertainly, then, with renewed resolve, turned to the tall woman and craned his neck upwards.

"As salai- salaam... alaykum." He had heard the traders from the docks say it, and he hoped dearly it wasn't vulgar.

He turned back to the other monk. "Please tell her I gratefully accept her offer. Her generosity is a credit to her house." Kham began to stride towards the stall, carefully avoiding the remaining mud. He looked back over his shoulder. "What brings a man such as yourself all this way to begin with, brother Ardhendu?"

[Theyra]

Ayutthaya
Wi Jae-Hui

Wi was sitting nearby on a bench and was sketching the al-Dhahab Mosque. So far he had limited contact with the small Muslim population and took some notes from simple observation. He had noticed some of the local population's reaction to them and it was mixed. Wi stopped sketching and looked around for a moment and saw from his bench one reaction. That was unfortunately expected and Wi felt bad for the man. He could not tell but, the man looked like a monk of sorts. "Hmmm I wonder how my people will treat followers of Islam in Korea when they come". He said softly to himself in his native Korean and returned his gaze to the mosque.

After some time he finished his sketch and he was pleased with his sketch of the mosque. When he finished his sketch, he heard a growl from his stomach. I should find a place to eat and he put away his journal, ink and writing utensil. Then he grabbed his coin purse from his belt and opened it. "Hmmm I some to spend on something to eat and now I just need to find a place". He closed his coin purse and put it back on his belt. Wi got up from the bench and started to look around for a place to eat.

[Khasinkonia]

Liễu Thị Mai•Market of Ayutthaya•13/4/1620

Thị Mai stood at the booth she had set up. Most of her goods were sold, and it would soon be time to begin bartering for goods using the local currency. Some Korean porcelain pots, numerous silks from Taiwan, some An'nan ware, and a large pot full of freshly cooked Phở were the last of her wares. The old routine was sometimes boring, but lucrative enough to make a good living. Go from Japan to Siam. Buy manufactured goods at inexpensive prices in a China, Korea, Vietnam and Japan, buy spices in the Malay archipelago, and silver, gold, and other precious metals in Ayutthaya.

As she leaned on one of the polls holding up her collapsible booth, a tall European man walked over to her. He first spoke in Portuguese, but soon realised that Thị Mai did not understand him. He then switched into poor, albeit still understandable Thai.

"How much for all of your goods except the soup?" he asked, picking up one of Taiwanese silks.
"Show me an offer, then we can negotiate from there," she replied.
"Very well," he said, pulling out a small pouch filled with coins that Thị Mai recognised as the Portuguese Real, "Would this be enough? 75 Real"
"No," she replied, "150 Baht. Your European coins are worth little here. Some merchants may accept it for fear of being harmed, but Ayutthaya has not such threat. Offer me something of value."
The man looked at her with an irritated look before pulling out a larger pouch of coins and placing it next to his first.
"250 Real," he said.
"Baht. Trade with me in Baht. Real are worthless here," she replied, clearly becoming irritated.
The man finally pulled out an even larger pouch, adding to the coins.
"500 Real. Final offer, which I suggest you take," he said, reaching down to a dagger at his side.
"No. I repeat: No European coins. None," she replied, pushing away the coins.
At this, the Portuguese man frowned, visibly irritated.
"What is wrong with Reais?! They're just as good as Baht, if not better!"
"In Ayutthaya, the currency is the Baht. Exchanges are done, using the Baht. I didn't invent the system; I just use it. Come back with 150 Baht, then you can buy from me. Don't bother with other traders, because many of them are the same. Good day to you, sir," she replied, gesturing for him to leave.
The man took offence to this, and pulled out his dagger.
"Do you want a fight? I will use this if you don't act more reasonably," he growled, waving his dagger.
"A fight you say? Just because I'm a little merchant lady doesn't mean I'm unarmed, idiot," she snapped, pulling out her sword and waving it at him, "Now begone I say! Begone!"
At this, the man slowly began to back away, before Thị Mai dashed at him and chased him off.
"Damned Europeans. Always with their pompous little attitudes and fire toys, acting like they own the place," she muttered to herself in Vietnamese, walking back to her booth, "Pasty skinned pigs the lot of them. They'd shrivel up if they lived here..."
As she returned to her booth, she say a man wandering around, and, in her opinion, he looked as if he needed something to eat.
"Ơi, friend! You look as if you might need something to eat," she called to him, waving for him to approach, "I have Phở to serve!"
She hoped that this man would be interested in purchasing a meal, and perhaps more as well. Someone on a full stomach was often happier, and more likely to buy...

[Theyra]

Liễu Thị Mai•Market of Ayutthaya•13/4/1620

Thị Mai stood at the booth she had set up. Most of her goods were sold, and it would soon be time to begin bartering for goods using the local currency. Some Korean porcelain pots, numerous silks from Taiwan, some An'nan ware, and a large pot full of freshly cooked Phở were the last of her wares. The old routine was sometimes boring, but lucrative enough to make a good living. Go from Japan to Siam. Buy manufactured goods at inexpensive prices in a China, Korea, Vietnam and Japan, buy spices in the Malay archipelago, and silver, gold, and other precious metals in Ayutthaya.

As she leaned on one of the polls holding up her collapsible booth, a tall European man walked over to her. He first spoke in Portuguese, but soon realized that Thị Mai did not understand him. He then switched into poor, albeit still understandable Thai.

"How much for all of your goods except the soup?" he asked, picking up one of Taiwanese silks.
"Show me an offer, then we can negotiate from there," she replied.
"Very well," he said, pulling out a small pouch filled with coins that Thị Mai recognised as the Portuguese Real, "Would this be enough? 75 Real"
"No," she replied, "150 Baht. Your European coins are worth little here. Some merchants may accept it for fear of being harmed, but Ayutthaya has not such threat. Offer me something of value."
The man looked at her with an irritated look before pulling out a larger pouch of coins and placing it next to his first.
"250 Real," he said.
"Baht. Trade with me in Baht. Real are worthless here," she replied, clearly becoming irritated.
The man finally pulled out an even larger pouch, adding to the coins.
"500 Real. Final offer, which I suggest you take," he said, reaching down to a dagger at his side.
"No. I repeat: No European coins. None," she replied, pushing away the coins.
At this, the Portuguese man frowned, visibly irritated.
"What is wrong with Reais?! They're just as good as Baht, if not better!"
"In Ayutthaya, the currency is the Baht. Exchanges are done, using the Baht. I didn't invent the system; I just use it. Come back with 150 Baht, then you can buy from me. Don't bother with other traders, because many of them are the same. Good day to you, sir," she replied, gesturing for him to leave.
The man took offence to this, and pulled out his dagger.
"Do you want a fight? I will use this if you don't act more reasonably," he growled, waving his dagger.
"A fight you say? Just because I'm a little merchant lady doesn't mean I'm unarmed, idiot," she snapped, pulling out her sword and waving it at him, "Now begone I say! Begone!"
At this, the man slowly began to back away, before Thị Mai dashed at him and chased him off.
"Damned Europeans. Always with their pompous little attitudes and fire toys, acting like they own the place," she muttered to herself in Vietnamese, walking back to her booth, "Pasty skinned pigs the lot of them. They'd shrivel up if they lived here..."
As she returned to her booth, she say a man wandering around, and, in her opinion, he looked as if he needed something to eat.
"Ơi, friend! You look as if you might need something to eat," she called to him, waving for him to approach, "I have Phở to serve!"
She hoped that this man would be interested in purchasing a meal, and perhaps more as well. Someone on a full stomach was often happier, and more likely to buy...

Wi was walking around when he noticed a women at a booth trying to get his attention. He figured it would not hurt to see what she wants and perhaps she is selling food. He walked over to the stall, he looked around it and saw the freshly cooked Phở. He spoke in Thai, "Hello and I see you have fresh food". He said in a polite tone and got out his coin purse, he only had Korean currency which was Jeohwa. "By chance do you take Korean Jeohwa? "Or if you do not maybe we can come to a agreement? He hoping that she would take his money and be open to a agreement if not.

[Brusia]

Dutch Quarter, Ayutthaya
Thomas Hawkwood

Thomas was walking out of the sole Protestant church in Ayutthaya alongside the predominately Dutch parishioners after the minister's sermon had concluded. There were very few Englishmen in Ayutthaya, and as there was not yet an English Quarter in the city, Thomas decided to take up residence in the Dutch Quarter. He'd been renting a small room there for the past few months, but as he had yet to get any of the locals to agree to a trade agreement with his family's company and was running out of the money he'd saved up from his time in Bohemia, he knew he'd either have to find a steady source of income or return home in failure. As the latter option certainly didn't appeal to him, he began mulling over ways to go about the former.

As merchants were a penny-a-dozen in the city he wasn't likely to make much of a living off of his mercantile skills, so he mulled over the possibility of signing up with another mercenary company. He'd have to find an honorable company fighting for a just cause of course, but that would at least provide enough money to keep a roof over his head and food on the table until he could return home with a profitable business agreement that would make his parents proud. For the moment though, that could wait; right now he was hungry. He made his way down to the central market, walking past countless stalls where all manner of goods were bought and sold by men and women from every corner of the globe. As he was walking he noticed one such woman at a stall chase off a Portuguese man twice her size, and couldn't help but laugh as the man walked past him muttering all manner of expletives in Portuguese.

Seeing that she sold soup at her stall, he decided he'd give the soup a try if for no other reason than out of unofficial gratitude for her brightening his day a little. Another man reached the stall before him though, and speaking in Thai stated that he only possessed Korean Jeohwa. Seeing how attempting to barter in the wrong currency ended for the last fellow, he approached the man in front of him, and also speaking in Thai stated:

"Pardon me, but if you need some Baht for a meal, I could exchange some for your Jeohwa."

[Torkalia]

For God, Glory and Gold
Ramiro Ortega
The Pagan Lands of Asia

A small European ship graced the waters of Ayutthaya, renowned pagan city, but spat upon by the Spanish men aboard the ship. A city of filth, and a city of huts, Madrid and the Spanish colonies put the land to shame. If it were up to the men on board, they would have began conquest immediately; none of this "spying" nonsense, no "interacting" with the locals. If it were up to Ramiro Ortega, Conquistador and Commander of his men, they would be given the simple choice of conversion, or death. Thousands had screamed his name in the Philippines, and it seemed he was too effective at extracting those screams. He mad the Philippines calm, strongly under the control of Mother Spain, giving him no other task but to follow the Crown's orders, and to spread the word of God until another suitable conquest was found.

The strange ship was out of place in Ayutthaya, but it was not rare. Europeans had been here before, and the denizens of the harbor had grown accustomed to their sight. Although Spaniards had not yet graced the land in great number, to most of the locals, the white men looked no different from the others, with only a slight variation in their language. The arrogance with which the Spaniards carried themselves was pompous and foolish, yet it would have been a tip off to the wise that these men represented more than just some merchant company, or the peaceful of arm of a Church. Were these men successful in their mission, many of the natives would have killed them the moment they arrived. Yet, the appearance of so many foreigners had numbed them, and the hostility each Conquistador held was marked off as a foreign curse, not as the plans for murder and pillage each had, the same fate that had befallen thousands of others before them.

After a short while, the ship landed in port, and their Thai translator exchanged local currency he had obtained beforehand. They had plenty of gold on board, but the sight of it would draw too much attention. As such, friendly merchants had assisted the Papal envoy in obtaining proper currency before arrival, and now the Conquistadors had enough of it to do whatever they needed.

As the docking procedure finished, Ramiro began to inform his men of what to do.

"I want the majority of you.." he looked back at the pagan city, "to stay on board here, at all times. You may rotate shifts to buy supplies, but the gold on here should not be lost, nor used. It is for emergencies."

Ramiro pointed at two of his men.

"Caesar, Jose, I want you two coming with me. Collect your things, and we will find the source of this city's rulers."

The men saluted, and gathered their weaponry. Caesar, a half-Spanish half-Italian man from the Balearic Isles, carried a halberd, a strange weapon that drew looks as they walked the streets. Jose, a fellow Castilian, carried with him a steel sword and shield, like Ramiro. Each of the three was armored head to two, with open spaces on the arms and legs to allow for movement. Atop their iconic helmets sat yellow and red feathers, a symbol of the crown's patronage, and their glistening steel armor shined with the rays of the sun like a diamond. Though their skin and ship had been seen before, few locals had seen this pompous display of wealth; normally a rich target for thievery, but the barrel-chested Ramiro, and his threatening gaze, intimidated most of the poor gangsters who had that thought.

Word quickly spread of their arrival, as they crashed the ground underneath heir steel boots. Jose, who was the Thai translator, had bought a rough map of the city, leading them to where the King was supposed to reside, and where they would find their mercenary work. Ramiro had ordered Jose to copy the map before they departed, so it could be returned to the Viceroy in case of invasion.

Eventually they came across a mosque, where it seemed a public altercation granted a reprieve from the constant attention they had received.

As each man realized they were, indeed, looking at a mosque, each spat in unison.

"It seems..." Ramiro uttered as he wiped his mouth "that even this distant pagan land is not free from the Moslems."

As they finished their insults, Caesar's stomach loudly rumbled.

"Sir..."

"You have to be kidding, Caesar."

"We haven't eating since this morning. These may be savages, but I am sure that at least they can cook food."

Ramiro sighed. "Fine, Caesar, but you will eat first in case they poison it."

Ramiro scouted the various stalls in search of food, before noticing a pleasant smell emanating from a pagan woman's shop. What attracted him was not the smell, but that another European stood there, saying something one of the pagans looking to purchase food. If there was any stall he could trust, he thought, surely the ones that already sold to whites would one of them.

He shoved his way to the front of the line, and told Jose to give them three servings of whatever it was she was selling.

Having only just learned the language, Jose struggled quite strongly with the task.

"M-mad...woman, we want three of your food please."

[Sonitusia]

An impossibly tall woman, armored in flashing bronze or brass and quite beautiful, approached Ardhendu and Kham in a few strides, the ground almost visibly shaking by the power of her legs. Hendu frowned for a moment as he stared at her, mouthing the Minangkabau words for a moment, but had to glance at the food stall before they started to make sense. "Ah!" he exclaimed, bowing before her in respect. "There are such things as a kind heart here! Thank you, thank you, I would most certainly love to take up your offer. Though, I will not talk for my brother here." he said in Malay while gesturing at Kham.

"She wishes to pay for us to join her for a meal, brother." Hendu explained to Kham in Thai.

Kham glanced around at the cracked dirt uncertainly, then, with renewed resolve, turned to the tall woman and craned his neck upwards.

"As salai- salaam... alaykum." He had heard the traders from the docks say it, and he hoped dearly it wasn't vulgar.

He turned back to the other monk. "Please tell her I gratefully accept her offer. Her generosity is a credit to her house." Kham began to stride towards the stall, carefully avoiding the remaining mud. He looked back over his shoulder. "What brings a man such as yourself all this way to begin with, brother Ardhendu?"

Indeed, Zahra was rather confused with the words that the monk tried to say. She could understand the majority of it, but cursed herself for not paying attention to her tutor when learning foreign languages. It wasn't so much that she didn't understand Malay, but due to the fact that many of the words were homophone, she had difficulty piecing together what the man was trying to say. But feelings could be delivered, and it would seem that he was happy to join, and the two monks had already stood up, and the four began to make way towards the Tom Yam stall.

"Wa'alaikumussalam," Zahra replied, bowing slightly in respect. She knew the Buddhists to be a kind folk in general from her time in Cambodia. However, she was beginning to get lost as to what the men were saying afterwards, and promised herself to ask Dalang to teach her how to speak in Thai later on. She did not ask him to translate what they were currently saying however, in case she may be caught eavesdropping.

It would seem that next door was a much more bustling business, with many Europeans and Asians having a meal and generally making a rather loud commotion. Zahra began to wonder if they were here due to King Ayutthaya's request for arms, or simply just for trade. Whatever the reason, she was certain to meet them sometime later in her travels. It was an adventurer's fate, after all.

Entering the slightly more quiet restaurant, they seated themselves before the chef, recycled crates used as chairs.

"I'll have the best item on the menu," Zahra said, Dalang translating for her. Then looking at the two others she continued in Minangkabau, "Order whatever you'd like, first meal's on me. My name is Zahra Usman binti Ahdan, you're free to call me Zahra."

[Free Empire of the Low Isles]

Kham returned Ardhendu's bow, hand clutched to his hat. Between the sweat glistening on his brow in the infernal coastal heat and his unimpressive stature, it didn't look particularly regal, but the greeting was heartfelt.

"The Buddha provides indeed.", he said, trying to place the man's accent. "I am Kham Kitou, of Lan Na. The Muslims in this city are rather more haughty than those to the south, or so I am told."

Kham glanced around at the cracked dirt uncertainly, then, with renewed resolve, turned to the tall woman and craned his neck upwards.

"As salai- salaam... alaykum." He had heard the traders from the docks say it, and he hoped dearly it wasn't vulgar.

He turned back to the other monk. "Please tell her I gratefully accept her offer. Her generosity is a credit to her house." Kham began to stride towards the stall, carefully avoiding the remaining mud. He looked back over his shoulder. "What brings a man such as yourself all this way to begin with, brother Ardhendu?"

"Wa'alaikumussalam," Zahra replied, bowing slightly in respect.

[Editor's Mark]

Entering the slightly more quiet restaurant, they seated themselves before the chef, recycled crates used as chairs.

"I'll have the best item on the menu," Zahra said, Dalang translating for her. Then looking at the two others she continued in Minangkabau, "Order whatever you'd like, first meal's on me. My name is Zahra Usman binti Ahdan, you're free to call me Zahra."

Kham's comment about Ardhendu's previous incident, and the haughty Muslim woman, the younger monk had to put a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from laughing uncontrollably and looking rude in front of their new friend. "Tr-trust me, brother." he said through slight gasps for air. "That was nothing compared to the Mughals in India."

After Zahra made herself known, Ardhendu cringed a little from forgetting her presence, and quickly turned to bow at her for what he thought was the hundredth time in the last few seconds. "My brother Kham would like to thank you for your offer and that your generosity is a great honor for your house." he explained in Malay before sitting down on his own crate next to Kham.

He frowned for a moment, and then smiled as he realized what he should do. "I would like the cheapest meal, please. This meal is on the kind woman, and I would like to not upset her with an outrageous bill."

[The Valyria Empire]

---

Manuel III Palaiologos

---

Dutchet Quarter, Waterfront
Manuel watched stoically as Mirocleto de Venezeia toured the many booths and stalls along the water front. Manuel gripped the spear he held in his right hand and walked closely behind Mirocleto. He remained quite, as was he his duty. To watch, protect, and serve. The Palaiologos name had fallen far from grace. They were once Emperors of the Roman Empire, now they were nothing but men for hire.

Mirocleto stopped and turned to Manuel. Manuel looked down at the man through his mask.

"Manuel, it would seem these stalls do not have the goods I need. We shall travel to the market instead." Mirocleto spoke, a smile on his face as he made his way. Manuel nodded, sheathed his spear on his back and placed his hand the handle of his blade.

---

Eventually they reached the market, and as Mirocleto toured the many markets Manuel watched for any thiefs, or anyone that might attempt to kill his employer. Eventually Mirocleto reached a soup stall, hoping to sedate his appetite. Manuel noticed a man, different from the Dutch and natives walking around. The man was possibly Saxon, most likely English. Next to the Englishman was man dressed in a Korean style something Manuel had not see in some time. Manuel watched as Mirocleto stepped up to both of the men.

"Please, friends. Allow me." Mirocleto placed a pouch on the table. "Three bowls, please. One for my two acquaintances here. Mirocleto spoke in Mayla. Manuel sighed under his mask, Mirocleto was a naive man, quick to trust and very charitable. Manuel stepped next to Mirocleto, just in case the two unknown men might try anything, his hand still on his blade.

[Theyra]

Dutch Quarter, Ayutthaya
Thomas Hawkwood

Thomas was walking out of the sole Protestant church in Ayutthaya alongside the predominately Dutch parishioners after the minister's sermon had concluded. There were very few Englishmen in Ayutthaya, and as there was not yet an English Quarter in the city, Thomas decided to take up residence in the Dutch Quarter. He'd been renting a small room there for the past few months, but as he had yet to get any of the locals to agree to a trade agreement with his family's company and was running out of the money he'd saved up from his time in Bohemia, he knew he'd either have to find a steady source of income or return home in failure. As the latter option certainly didn't appeal to him, he began mulling over ways to go about the former.

As merchants were a penny-a-dozen in the city he wasn't likely to make much of a living off of his mercantile skills, so he mulled over the possibility of signing up with another mercenary company. He'd have to find an honorable company fighting for a just cause of course, but that would at least provide enough money to keep a roof over his head and food on the table until he could return home with a profitable business agreement that would make his parents proud. For the moment though, that could wait; right now he was hungry. He made his way down to the central market, walking past countless stalls where all manner of goods were bought and sold by men and women from every corner of the globe. As he was walking he noticed one such woman at a stall chase off a Portuguese man twice her size, and couldn't help but laugh as the man walked past him muttering all manner of expletives in Portuguese.

Seeing that she sold soup at her stall, he decided he'd give the soup a try if for no other reason than out of unofficial gratitude for her brightening his day a little. Another man reached the stall before him though, and speaking in Thai stated that he only possessed Korean Jeohwa. Seeing how attempting to barter in the wrong currency ended for the last fellow, he approached the man in front of him, and also speaking in Thai stated:

"Pardon me, but if you need some Baht for a meal, I could exchange some for your Jeohwa."

Wi was pushed to the side at this point due to the rude Europeans and bumped into Thomas. "Uh sorry about bumping into you but, those men......." Wi signed...., "thanks for the offer and I think that I need to find another place to find a meal". "Perhaps you know of a place and I should introduce myself, my name is Wi Jae-Hui". "Wi looking back at the three rude Europeans, "How about we talk some place else? Wi had little contact with Europeans at his point but, from what he had seen..... well it was mixed. Some he had seen were friendly and others were rude and obnoxious. Wi hoped that this one was one of the friendly ones.

[Wolfenium]

Blacksmith, Japanese Village, Ayutthaya
13th April, 1620 C.E.
Yang You-er and Ling Feng

The Japanese settlement, situated south of the capital along the Chao Phraya river. Located opposite the Portuguese settlement across the river, the Japanese community had grown into a hodgepodge of traders, ronin and Catholic exiles. Under the good graces of the king, many have taken up arms as mercenaries. Banding together under the Krom Asa Yipun (Japanese: Department of Japanese Volunteers), their military expertise proved highly valued by the Siamese.

Working in a blacksmith, an elderly, bearded old man with frazzled hair appeared to be busy forging away. His greyed hakama darkened with sweat, his toils away under the tropical heat, ironing out his newest creation on the forge. His display of blades, both native and foreign, hung on the wall for all to see. But just as he settled his white-hot blade to quench, he caught in the corner of his eye a pair of shadows, increasingly familiar to him for the fourth time since.

"Another one, mainlander," went the old man in Mandarin, setting aside his work as he eyed the duo, "your girl has a thing for breaking swords."

"Not my fault she is careless with blades," the Chinese lad quipped as he stepped in, dressed in a dark leather Ming armour, "she works better with brute force. It's not one Japanese blades are able to withstand."

"Then why not ask someone who can," grunted the blacksmith, walking towards his display of swords, "she's destroying my work."

"If I wanted to, I would," relented the young man, "however, there's not a single blacksmith in the city that could make a long sword like this, and she refuses to wield anything else."

Hearing the duo speak, the mercenary's diminutive partner appeared visibly peeved. Her eyes shifting at the lad, the long-haired teen batted an eyelid at the Chinese's joke. Despite her knowledge of the Chinese language, the old man and his customer cared little to comment at her expense. Puffing her cheeks like a child, she looked keen to plant her foot down at his foot for the slight.

"Shut up," she demanded, "it's not my fault his swords are so fragile! Expert workmanship, my ass! His swords break like twigs for all I know!"

"That's why I asked whether you'd prefer something of your type," interjected the lad, sneering at the teen for her complaints, "any local sword could take your blunt blows, but you insisted on a Changdao."

"Then get me one," snapped the girl, throwing a wrapped bundle to the ground, "not this!"

Watching the brat throw the bundle on the floor, as his shattered workmanship was unfurled under the cloth, the old man could only shake his head. Reaching for a similar-looking blade, he grunted, "your girlfriend has no respect for her weapons. If I wasn't indebted after you drove out those loansharks, I would have chased you both out with my sword! Kids these days... Here," he handed the long blade to the girl, "maybe this won't break as fast. It wasn't easy, but I studied the manual you passed to me, Yuji.¹ To think your kind would rip off an Aizu Kage-ryū manual and make this... bastard.² You're lucky there's plenty of iron to work with here."

Chuckling a bit at the old man's comments, You-er admitted, "well, perhaps if your lords weren't happily tempting destitute folks into piracy... Sorry for the trouble."

Holding the oversized sword in her arms, the young girl could not help but feel elated. As she lifted the Changdao out of its scabbard, the girl gleamed with fascination at the two-meter blade. Looking over her shoulder, You-er could only shake his head. How someone so petite could wield such a huge weapon with little difficulty was beyond him.

"Don't break this one," You-er cautioned the girl, "that's most of our profits in there."

[Brusia]

*snip*

*snip*

Marketplace, Ayutthaya
Thomas Hawkwood

Before the man in front of him in line at the market stall even had a chance to reply, Thomas and the other man were suddenly shoved out of their places in line by none other than a group of Spaniards. "Great" Thomas thought "Spaniards. As if life wasn't difficult enough without these bastards walking around like they own the place."

Not wanting to start a fight and get in trouble with the city guards, Thomas simply shook his head in response to the Spaniards' lack of manners. Another two Europeans soon joined the group in line, and offered to buy Thomas and the Korean man a meal. The first of these new Europeans appeared to be Venetian, probably a fellow merchant judging by the fine clothes he was wearing, and the second looked to be his bodyguard. Thomas' family had had some business dealings with the Venetians in the past, and though most of them were Catholic, they had recently been butting heads with the Pope, Austria, and Spain, so they were okay in Thomas' book.

As the Spaniards weren't going anywhere, the Korean man suggested finding another restaurant and introduced himself. Thomas nodded his head in agreement with the suggestion and replied:

"It's a pleasure to meet you Wi Jae-Hui, my name is Thomas Hawkwood. Yes, I think finding some place else to eat sounds like a good idea; I know of a good little restaurant in the Japanese Quarter, if you like Japanese food."

Not wanting to be rude to the Venetian man who had offered to pay for their meals, Thomas then turned towards him and stated in Italian "I'm afraid these Spaniards don't seem keen on having myself and my new friend here around, so we're going to head to another restaurant. You're welcome to join us if you'd like."

[Theyra]

*snip*

*snip*

Marketplace, Ayutthaya
Thomas Hawkwood

Before the man in front of him in line at the market stall even had a chance to reply, Thomas and the other man were suddenly shoved out of their places in line by none other than a group of Spaniards. "Great" Thomas thought "Spaniards. As if life wasn't difficult enough without these bastards walking around like they own the place."

Not wanting to start a fight and get in trouble with the city guards, Thomas simply shook his head in response to the Spaniards' lack of manners. Another two Europeans soon joined the group in line, and offered to buy Thomas and the Korean man a meal. The first of these new Europeans appeared to be Venetian, probably a fellow merchant judging by the fine clothes he was wearing, and the second looked to be his bodyguard. Thomas' family had had some business dealings with the Venetians in the past, and though most of them were Catholic, they had recently been butting heads with the Pope, Austria, and Spain, so they were okay in Thomas' book.

As the Spaniards weren't going anywhere, the Korean man suggested finding another restaurant and introduced himself. Thomas nodded his head in agreement with the suggestion and replied:

"It's a pleasure to meet you Wi Jae-Hui, my name is Thomas Hawkwood. Yes, I think finding some place else to eat sounds like a good idea; I know of a good little restaurant in the Japanese Quarter, if you like Japanese food."

Not wanting to be rude to the Venetian man who had offered to pay for their meals, Thomas then turned towards him and stated in Italian "I'm afraid these Spaniards don't seem keen on having myself and my new friend here around, so we're going to head to another restaurant. You're welcome to join us if you'd like."

"That would sound nice but I do not really like Japanese food". "How about someplace else... I think I passed a restaurant on the way here and it should be nearby". "Unless you know of another restaurant and this good". Wi took noticed of the other two European men and wondered who he was. He looked like a trader but, the looked more like a bodyguard then a trader. It could not understand what Thomas was saying and wondered to what he was talking about.

[Android (Ancient)]

snip

snip

Kham's comment about Ardhendu's previous incident, and the haughty Muslim woman, the younger monk had to put a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from laughing uncontrollably and looking rude in front of their new friend. "Tr-trust me, brother." he said through slight gasps for air. "That was nothing compared to the Mughals in India."

After Zahra made herself known, Ardhendu cringed a little from forgetting her presence, and quickly turned to bow at her for what he thought was the hundredth time in the last few seconds. "My brother Kham would like to thank you for your offer and that your generosity is a great honor for your house." he explained in Malay before sitting down on his own crate next to Kham.

He frowned for a moment, and then smiled as he realized what he should do. "I would like the cheapest meal, please. This meal is on the kind woman, and I would like to not upset her with an outrageous bill."

Kham in his turn cracked a slight smile, leaning back on the crate and stretching. "You take the example of the Buddha too close to heart, brother. He cannot provide if you are too considerate to take it. I'll have the Tom Kha Gai, and a bit of sato if you've got it."

As the man ladled out the steaming hot soup, and his companions conversed in what Kham now guessed was some sort of Malay dialect, the Vietnamese monk nursed his rice wine and tried to recall the exact details of the offer the King had sent out. Come to the capital city of Ayutthaya (check), bearing your own arms and armour (sort of check, would have to see about that after hearing what those things could do), and present yourself at the barracks no later than...

Ah, hell.

Kham turned back to Ardhendu already spouting rapid-fire Thai. "Could you ask the nice woman if she knows the way to the barracks? You see, I'm actually here on, well, sort of, not quite mercenary work in the amoral sense but anyway I've really got be at the palace around, well, now."

[Khasinkonia]

Liễu Thị Mai•Market of Ayutthaya•13/4/1620

A European man interrupted the Korean offering to exchange Korean currency for Baht. How convenient, she thought, Now there won't be any negotiation. They'll pay for the soup, and be done with it.

Just as this happened, three men dressed in ridiculous uniforms pushed their way to the front of the line. Pompous bastards, as usual, she thought, As long as they don't insist on using their European coins.

One of them requested three bowls of soup, but in a rather rude manner. The polite European decided to leave as they did, which bothered Thị Mai. These rude Europeans were customers, but they had driven away four others. And they only asked for soup, making no suggestion that they intended to pay for it.

"You have to pay for my Phở," she said in Thai, "Nothing is free in this market. It costs 1 Baht per serving if you have your own bowl and utensils, and 3 Baht if you don't."

She clasped her hands together and glared at them.

"And, may I recommend that you and your friends wait your turn in line at other booths in the market," she admonished calmly, with no fear of the armoured foreigners, "Merchants dislike having their other customers scared away."

[Brusia]

*snip*

"That sounds good to me" Thomas replied to Wi's suggestion of eating at a nearby restaurant "I'm hungry enough to eat just about anything." Seeing that Wi looked somewhat curious about what Thomas had said to his fellow European, he then explained: "This Venetian gentlemen kindly offered to pay for our meals, so I invited him to join us as well. I hope you don't mind." Thomas was then interrupted by his own stomach, which began to audibly growl. "At any rate, if you'll lead on to the restaurant, I'll follow you there."

[Theyra]

*snip*

"That sounds good to me" Thomas replied to Wi's suggestion of eating at a nearby restaurant "I'm hungry enough to eat just about anything." Seeing that Wi looked somewhat curious about what Thomas had said to his fellow European, he then explained: "This Venetian gentlemen kindly offered to pay for our meals, so I invited him to join us as well. I hope you don't mind." Thomas was then interrupted by his own stomach, which began to audibly growl. "At any rate, if you'll lead on to the restaurant, I'll follow you there."

"Oh no I do not mind, it has been a while since I have eaten with others". Wi heard the growl from Thomas's stomach, "Yes I will lead you there and I just hope it is not busy". Wi turned to the direction of where he passed the restaurant earlier. Wi started to walk to the restaurant and after some time found the restaurant. He walked to the entrance of it and turned around to see if Thomas and the Venetian man had followed him. I wondered what they will talk about and I hope that the Venetian or his bodyguard speaks the local language. Wi thought to himself as he waited for the Europeans arrive.

[Sonitusia]

After Zahra made herself known, Ardhendu cringed a little from forgetting her presence, and quickly turned to bow at her for what he thought was the hundredth time in the last few seconds. "My brother Kham would like to thank you for your offer and that your generosity is a great honor for your house." he explained in Malay before sitting down on his own crate next to Kham.

He frowned for a moment, and then smiled as he realized what he should do. "I would like the cheapest meal, please. This meal is on the kind woman, and I would like to not upset her with an outrageous bill."

Kham in his turn cracked a slight smile, leaning back on the crate and stretching. "You take the example of the Buddha too close to heart, brother. He cannot provide if you are too considerate to take it. I'll have the Tom Kha Gai, and a bit of sato if you've got it."

...

Kham turned back to Ardhendu already spouting rapid-fire Thai. "Could you ask the nice woman if she knows the way to the barracks? You see, I'm actually here on, well, sort of, not quite mercenary work in the amoral sense but anyway I've really got be at the palace around, well, now."

"Mị̀ pĕnrị," the chef grunted, banging a wooden ladle against his pot as he began to prepare the dishes. Watching him work for a moment, Zahra finally turned to respond to her new acquaintence.

"Ah yes," she replied in her dialect, giving a cheerful grin, "And I feel flattered. This is simply just a good deed from one human to another. Helping those in need is a Muslim's duty, after all." She tried to hide that she could barely understand what he was saying until finally piecing together the faint teachings of her old tutor; an aged man who was said to be the best, but could barely lift the books he was supposed to teach.

As Kham began to speak to the Indian monk, Dalang raised a hand, and said in Thai, "There's no need. I'll ask her, my friend." The guard proceeded to translate the words directly to Minangkabau, and Zahra nodded.

"Yes, we're actually on our way there as well," Zahra said, her hand sliding over her musket, its polished wood stock looking as new as ever, "It would seem that the king requires our services." The guard then translated her words back into Thai.

[Brusia]

*snip*

Thomas followed Wi to the restaurant, and judging by the delectable scents emanating from the place, it seemed the Korean man was correct about the restaurant being good. He walked up to the entrance shortly after Wi, and after spending a couple of seconds looking for somewhere to sit, spotted an empty table with four seats that seemed to fit the bill. Pointing towards said table, he stated "That looks like a good spot" then sat down in one of the empty seats. He could see that Wi was still nearby, but he couldn't yet tell if the merchant of Venice had decided to follow. Looking at another nearby table, he saw someone eating a dish that looked quite tasty, and when the server came to ask for their orders, he simply pointed to it and asked to have what they were having.