015 - The Night Market
“—now that we're past the Beta and in the official release, I'm noticing even more that the devs have put some thought into the in-game NPC languages. The local Varrans seem to define the wildlife broadly by the threat they pose. Theropods and other ‘sharp teeth and want to eat me’ reptiles are ‘wyr’. Wyrms, in plain English. Reptiles that aren't interested in eating you are ‘ga’, no English loan word. There seems to be much more nuance, but that's the gist of it that we can see so far.”
—Player [Drakecroft], future leader of Lorehounds [wiki], August 2117.
Ai was starting to feel hungry when Karravar Benessel politely kicked her out of his commandeered command tent that evening.
“Ayle. I must ask you to leave Sarila and I to ourselves tonight. We require solitude to prepare for tomorrow’s ritual,” Benessel said, his voice stiff with a formality that went beyond his usual demeanor. He stood by the entrance of the tent, firm and upright even with bandages covering his entire torso. “Sarila and I will each undergo ritual purification tonight to ensure the new Ve’un’s permanence.”
During their journey to Outpost Avna, Benessel had cast fresh Ve’un several nights in a row. The key difference between those and the Ve’un he was preparing for now, was that the earlier barriers had only needed to last the night and so weren't anchored into a proper wardstone. Tomorrow's would be.
Avna’s new Ve’un was an order of magnitude more complex, as it needed to be layered on top of the settlement’s existing barrier, while expanding into new territory, while potentially remaining stable for dozens, hundreds, perhaps thousands of years.
Anchored Ve’un were theoretically permanent, as long as the wardstone remained intact. Avna’s current Ve’un qualified, having likely been here since when the area was still called Gihn. Even the one in the caves beneath the fortress of New Gihn felt like it was several thousand years old, at least.
When the Grand Coalition of Frontline Guilds had first formed at the onset of Titanomachy, it was under the shared goal of creating a system where Ve’un could be freely and conveniently anchored across the entire continent. That, and getting the sure-to-be massive rewards—in Semblance increases and other material rewards—from the game’s first and only World Quest.
As long as a mage connected a new wardstone to the existing network of Ve’un, they could make any place in the world safe from the Veh for good. The Coalition would end the brutal survival focus that A Dirge for the Sun was famous for, and in doing so enforce a new peace onto the player base. A new metagame.
Ai’s creation of the god-engine Nor had completed the World Quest and established the network in truth. Not only would the network grow larger with each new wardstone added to its web, but each individual Ve’un connected to it would grow stronger as more wardstones were added. With Nor as its conceptual and metaphysical foundation, the entire system would be a self-reinforcing shield of the Sun to protect not only all mankind, but every thinking being of Varrah.
At least, that was Ai’s intent.
With how complicated the Varran bureaucracy had made the Ve’un, she was very interested in how the modern form had grown beyond her designs. But if push came to shove, she could just steal a look while it was actually being cast tomorrow morning. In fact, that was what she would do, since both Sari and Benessel were going to be busy for the evening.
“I understand,” Ai nodded. “I’ll leave you to it.”
Benessel offered a curt nod and disappeared back into the tent. A moment later, the flap opened again, and Sari emerged. The young Aspirant looked relieved to see Ai, a haggard expression on her face.
She shuffled up to Ai, holding out a small wyrmleather sack that jingled with coins.
“Miss Ayle,” Sari, looking at her boots, “Since Master Benessel and I are indisposed for the evening, he wanted you to have this. Our agreement was for three square meals a day, after all.”
“He didn’t have to do that,” Ai said, though a part of her was relieved. There hadn’t been any precious metals or any coinage in the tomb with her, so she was effectively penniless and didn't relish the thought of having to figure out a way of earning her meal tonight through less straightforward means.
“There’s supposed to be a night market along the western path down the river. Please, go enjoy yourself. I'm stuck reciting prayers until dawn.”
“Thanks, Sari. And please thank Benessel for me. Good luck with the purification and the, um, praying, I guess?”
In response, Sari narrowed her eyes in a mock scowl before she smiled, bowed, and scurried back into the tent to prepare for the ritual.
Ai weighed the coin sack in her hand, then looked down at Aru. The lizard-dog looked up, his tongue lolling out in a goofy grin.
“Well, buddy,” Ai murmured, scratching him behind the ears. “Looks like it’s just us tonight. Let’s go see what the locals eat.”
Aru woofed in agreement, happy to finally be getting some food in his bottomless pit of a belly.
The night market of Outpost Avna was bustling with activity.
Soldiers in off-duty tunics mingled with local Gihn laborers, their voices blending into a joyful buzz in the cool desert evening. The air was thick with smoke and the scent of roasting meats, a cacophonous blend of unfamiliar spices, and a good-natured cheer that permeated the streets.
In Ai’s old life, "dinner" meant browsing a digital menu on a screen, choosing a prepackaged item, and waiting for the megabuilding’s automated delivery system to drop off her most certainly 99% synthetic meal into the delivery chute. As she wandered the night market, she couldn’t help but remember the sheer magnitude of flavor that Beaky’s stew had had, just a few nights ago. Aru trotted happily at her side, his nose twitching as he sampled the air.
She stopped at a stall where a burly man with a thickly braided beard was grilling skewers of meat over an open charcoal brazier. The aroma was intoxicating—fiery, smokey, and humming with a dozen spices she couldn’t name.
“You look hungry, young miss!” the vendor boomed in an atrociously exaggerated accent to his Varran, flipping a skewer with practiced ease. Grease flared on the coals, sending up a puff of fragrant smoke. “Telniri-style! The best in the South! Puts a fire in your belly and some hair on your chest!”
“What is it?” Ai asked, eyeing the meat. It did look quite tasty, the vendor's comment about hairy chests notwithstanding. The flesh looked firm even from a distance, but it was slathered in a dark glaze smelling of peppers and citrus and crisped up in the fire to a delicious-looking char.
“Rranga!” the man proclaimed proudly. “I brought my herd all the way from Telnir! It's much better than Golga, or even the best Avnan Korga, I promise you that!”
If Ai remembered correctly, Rranga were a form of saurian herbivore, occupying the ecological niche roughly equivalent to a goat and known for its stubbornness and flavorful meat.
“I’ll take a skewer then.” Ai said, fishing a silver coin from her pouch.
“Coming right up, my friend!" The vendor cheered with magnanimous aplomb. He turned the Rranga skewer in front of him a few more times, seeming to gauge its readiness with some unknown set of criteria.
The Rranga sizzled.
Seemingly satisfied with the preparation, the vendor handed her the skewer, placing it on a wooden plate stick-side forward so she could take it easily. Ai picked up the piping hot, quite spicy-looking skewer and carefully—carefully—took a bite. The vendor pulled his plate back with a grin.
The meat was tough but yielded to the tooth, salty enough to provide a kick of flavor as it released a burst of rich, gamey juice as she chewed. The strong flavor was immediately cut by the sharp acidity of the marinade, citrusy and vaguely floral in a way she couldn't placr. The spice hit her mouth a second or so later, a burning, numbing sort of heat that spread across her tongue and warmed her throat.
“Oh, that’s good.” Ai murmured, chewing happily.
“Hah! I told you!” the vendor laughed. He looked down at Aru, who was staring at the grill with an intensity usually reserved for existential threats. “And for that beautiful Awufyr you’ve got there…”
He tossed a boiled Rranga thigh bone to the ground. Aru pounced on it with a joyous yelp, immediately retreating under a nearby table to gnaw on his prize.
“Thanks. Give me another please,” Ai demanded, wiping the grease from her lip. “Business seems good.”
“Sure thing, my friend! And you're right! I can’t complain!” The man grinned, leaning over the grill conspiratorially directly over the coals. Ai thought for a moment the braids in his beard might catch fire.
“Everyone’s in high spirits. The Captain’s back, the rebels and traitors are in irons, and our Ve’un is expanding. It's a good time to be an honest man in Avna, I tell you that, my friend.”
But then his expression darkened slightly, his head jerking toward a small, unassuming shop across the thoroughfare. It was a mud-brick structure built in the traditional Gihn style. Unlike the bustling stalls along the rest of the street, it was quiet, with nary a soul approaching.
“Shame about Lellen though,” he muttered, “She makes the best potstickers in town, but… well. It's hard to stomach a meal when the cook ended up raising a traitor.”
Ai paused, a piece of Rranga meat halfway to her mouth. “Lellen?”
“The mother,” the vendor clarified, lowering his voice, “Of that boy Povi. You know, the spy?”
He shook his head, affecting a sense of regret, or perhaps sympathy, though neither felt totally genuine, “I feel for her, I do, but you won’t catch me eating there any time soon. It's inauspicious.”
Ai looked at the shop. A weathered sign hung above the door, painting peeling in the dry heat. Lellen’s Dumplings.
Povi. The boy she had caught in the desert, who she'd questioned for intelligence about his New Gihn compatriots. The boy who had been radicalized by Inneol, who had branded his soul in exchange for being made a victim in an existential Ponzi scheme. Ai finished her skewer in silence. The spicy meat suddenly felt a bit heavier in her stomach.
She suddenly felt compelled to have some dumplings.
“Thanks for the skewers,” she called softly, before turning towards Lellen’s Dumplings, “Come on, Aru."
The lizard-dog scrambled out from under the table, his bone clamped firmly in his jaws as he trotted alongside her.
Ai tossed the vendor another coin as a tip and walked across the street, towards the shop that everyone else in Avna seemed to be avoiding.