Weight of the Crown | Shifting Sands

Elle Joyner

Moop.
Original poster
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Posting Speed
  1. Multiple posts per day
Online Availability
8:00 AM - 4:00 PM
Writing Levels
  1. Prestige
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Primarily Prefer Female
Genres
Political intrigue, fantasy, futuristic, sci fi lite, superheroes, historical fiction, alternate universes. Smittings of romance, but only as side plot.

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Etzli led the two out the door as Hama tried his best to ignore the fluttering sensation in his stomach, as well as the sweat on his palms. Saying a quick 'goodbye!' to Omari, the large man bundled the two into his personal rickshaw, the drivers giving Etzli a quick admonishment in Azawi before the two started off. It was far past evening by this point, the sunlight filtering through the ceiling of the qarab in near-horizontal spears.

Before long they were heading into a much dingier, slightly more crowded part of the city, though high above them the ceiling soared with immaculate suites where cozy lights could be seen through the carved-out windows.

"Welcome to the Drag! This is my home territory. Spent a lot of time here when I was a young man," Etzla said, gesturing to the droves of men who were cheering in the streets as they watched something go on to their left.

"And you still spend a lot of time here," Hama jabbed.

"Well, it is part of my occupation, dear Hama. Somebody has to keep these ingrates in line."
 
Rosleigh's laugh echoed at the conversation between the two men, and with a shake of her head, she turned to look at the streets. It was strange... back home, a scene like this might have thrown her into a state that lacked comfortableness, but here in Azawa, there was something about even the lowlier parts of the city that spoke to her.

There was history and depth to every crack and crevice. She could see it in their faces, in their eyes... And maybe there was some of that back home, but she'd never noticed. Never been allowed to notice. Being kept... forced to stay wasn't ideal, not by any stretch, and the idea of what was to come frightened her, still, but in way, Ros was glad to be where she was. Even if it was exchanging one cage for another, at least it was a beautiful cage, rich with curious things.

"Alright, Etzli. Are you ready to tell me what we're really doing here? Because I can't imagine you woke up this morning and thought to yourself this would be a good place to take a captive princess. I mean, if you did, well... that is bold, but I imagine you've another plan working in that brain of yours?"
 
"Who, me?" Etzla asked in mock offense, a hand pressed against his chest as he leaned towards the young woman. "Nonsense! We're here to have fun, make merry, take part in life! Now - out, both of you."

With that, the big man shooed both Hama and the princess from his rickshaw, following behind. Meanwhile, Hama made sure to keep close to Ros in the crowds, shielding her from the hungry looks of the men around them. It was obvious that this was not a place the fairer sex often trod, though a woman here and there seemed to be enjoying whatever spectacle was going on.

"Stay close. Wouldn't want you to get lost," Hama warned, protectively ferrying her with an arm about her shoulders. The heat of so many bodies was encroaching. Etzla lead the way through the crowd, and briefly it was clear what all the fuss was about in the alleys.

The wall of the qarab rose high, pitted with fissures, cracks, knobs, and nails. Daringly, men were climbing these nerve-wracking walls with only a rope to save them. Above was a bell, and below was naught but air.
 
"Oh, ho... Very well. You keep your secrets, Etzla. We'll find out, soon enough, no doubt." There was a chance he was being honest, but Ros had her doubts, largely because nothing during her stay in Azawa had quite been so simple as it seemed on the outside.

Despite her boldness inside of the rickshaw, Rosleigh's bravery seemed to fade a touch as they slid out and she didn't need the reminder to stay close to Hama, inching away from the eyes on either side on them as if they were tangible hands, reaching out. Her cheeks flushed a little as his arm came around her and she glanced to Etzla briefly, before turning her eyes straight ahead again.

It wasn't difficult, however, to forget her discomfort as they continued, and her eyes rose to the enormous wall with a slight gasp. Despite her reservations about the place (particularly since it was where Hama had gotten himself into quite a bit of trouble before), she couldn't help but find it all quite extraordinary, and eyes widening, she shook her head.

"...They must be made of stone, inside... to risk a climb like that."
 
"Stones they definitely have," Etzla said over the cacophony, his lecherous grin punctuated by a stern 'Etzla!' from his younger brother.

"Many of them practically grew up doing this. Mayez, we call them - goats," Hama explained over the roar of the crowd as one of the climbers very suddenly managed to overtake the others and ring the bell. "These are just the preliminaries. Things get much, much more competitive when they hit the Shell."

Hama gestured to another section of the city's edge wall, a massive curtain of rock that swooped into a curve at the top, creating a shelf. A bell at the very end of the curve dangled in mid-air.

"Care to bet on someone, princess?" Etzla teased as he continued to drag the two, finally reaching a set of stairs guarded by several men.
 
Her cheeks flushed brighter at Etlza's joke, which, for once, did not go entirely over her head, but she also laughed softly behind her hand, disguising it as a cough when Hama interjected with his disapproval. Instead, she turned her eyes to the climbers, as awestruck, watched for a moment as they battled to the top. With the ring of the bell, she applauded, shaking her head.

"They are magnificent, really. We have men in Cain'Loren who climb the mountains behind our city, but it's hardly so steep as this. Why... they could probably make it to the peak in their sleep, these men." Looking to the arch-like wall that Hama gestured to, she breathed out, "...Goodness... But it seems so dangerous. Have you ever tried it, Hama? Has anyone ever been seriously hurt?"

Gaze flickering to Etzla, she smiled faintly and shrugged, "I haven't decided on my champion, just yet. But mark my words, Etzli... I will place a bet by the end of tonight. You think I won't, but I've made my intentions quite clear as to why I'm here." There was a subtle nudge in her words, indication that she still didn't quite trust his own motives for bringing them along, though she was beginning not to care, far more fascinated by the events than she ever thought she would be.
 
Etzla laughed as he waved past the guards, leading them up above the fray. Ros' questions about the casualties of the sport were left unanswered, the two boys deigning to act as if they hadn't heard it. The stairs lead to a rooftop high above the crowds, a fantastic viewpoint to see what was going on. The rooftop was bedecked with sumptuous furniture, exquisitely carved from expensive wood or covered in cushions and brightly colored fabrics in a dizzying amount of patterns. There were already a few men here, and they waved and shouted at Etzla with camaraderie. Hama, in comparison, shrank back and away from the spotlight, as if hoping they would forget his brother's guests.

No such luck. They shouted 'hello's at him as well, and Hama waved with a tepid smile, hanging behind Ros. Etzla showed them to a seat, a set of couches and chairs facing the wall with a large lens on a stand in front of them.

"If you plan on betting, then I suggest you prepare that pretty purse! The Shell is where things get interesting. Isn't that right, Hama?" Etzla asked, eyes lingering on his younger half-brother.

Hama's expression was grave.

"We see a lot of the racers in the Infirmary. Fairly few people try to scale it, and only those who are professionals even bother."

"That's not quite true, Hama," Etzla said with a grin, and Hama winced. "Our dear doctor here is an expert rock-climber in his own right. He just doesn't like to admit he's more than weedy little grunt for Tlaloc."
 
Following after Etzla, Rosleigh stepped into the colorful lounge with a smile. The sumptuous fabrics and patterns, the lingering scents of herbs in heated pots and lantern oils, the raucous sounds of the crowd below, were all enough to take in, without the addition of new faces, who greeted Etzla and Hama with waves. Hama's bashfulness did not escape her attention and the corner of her lip turned up with amusement. He wasn't the most social of creatures, but it was almost sweet how he seemed to shrink away from it, as if a butterfly could escape notice in a field of moths..

Sinking down onto one of the cushioned pillows, Rosleigh folded her hands in her lap, a brow arching at Etzla's revelation. Her eyes flickered to Hama and a slow smile brightened her features as she shook her head, "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me as much as it probably should. Except perhaps that Hama's capable of enjoying himself without being forced into it..." On the teasing note, she fished out her bag of coins, a hefty sum and barely a fraction of what her father had sent her with.

"And what would you do, Hama Dear... if I decided to place a bet on you, hm?"
 
Hama spluttered, "The only reason I climbed was because I was young and foolish --"

"And dreamed of being a racer as a youth," Etzla muttered.

Hama turned to Ros, mouth open wide as she expressed her decision to bet on him, and his eyes opened wide. Etzla spread out his hands to him, shoulders raised as if to say 'oh, but why not, little brother?' Hama let the air out of his lungs with a long, slow release as he thought about it.

"You... would lose money because I am slow and fat now," Hama professed, patting his stomach. Of course, he looked anything but fat, yet his point stood. "I haven't climbed in - in - Hala take me."

"Don't lie, Hama! People go to sha-ol for less," Etzla said with pursed lips.

Hama glowered as he crossed his arms and looked down, kicking the leg of the table softly.

"So it's been maybe four months. Ros, please, please don't do this," Hama pleaded half-heartedly. If he was true to himself, the prospect of competition actually excited him a little bit, but there was the fact that there was so many people, and the last time he'd been here, he'd seriously ruined a few people's wallets... Stepping in the lime light could really be dangerous.
 
A brow lifted, and Rosleigh's smile grew just slightly as she glanced between Hama and his brother. He had downplayed his own worth before, and while she was sure anxiety had something of a vice like grip on the man at all times, she wasn't entirely convinced of his self depreciation.

"I've eyes in my head, Hama. Anyone with a working pair can see that's a ridiculous claim." Even without her feelings being what they were, Rosleigh could not have denied Hama's physique was anything but...

"Hmm." Biting the edge of her lip, she looked over to Etzla, "This is your menagerie, Etzli. What do you think? Would I be making a wise bet?"
 
"I think you would be," Etzla said conspiratorially, looking at Hama edgewise. The man was huffing, but there was just a slight note of contrition in his eyes. As timid and meek as Hama was, the walls of the city were practically home to him. At his mother's place, there were exposed sections of the city mesa, and it seemed like a real feat to keep him off it.

"Look - someone else's won the last bout," Hama said, trying to draw attention away. "These must be the endurance racers. I haven't seen a single one go faster than the sand glass Djoubi's got down there."

He gestured to the instrument that sat next to an official on the rooftop adjacent to theirs, the man shouting out winners and times.

"The record for Goat's Peak--" and here he gestured to the wall near them. "-- is something like twenty seconds."
 
Studying Hama for a moment, Rosleigh smiled faintly, and not without an edge of mischief. Her life, for so long, had been decided for her and now she had reached a point where she might lose the ability to decide the one thing that mattered most... But she was going to go down fighting, and in the meantime, she would enjoy the experiences given to her.

"Etzli... I would like to place a bet." Shifting her gaze from Hama, she rose and moved a little closer to the edge to see over to the climbers. Watching their ascent, a brow lifted.

"In Cain'Loren, we have a yearly festival, where men come to fight for honor and treasure. They spend the entire week engaged in battles of wit and strength and speed. Occasionally, a young lady might take fancy to one of these noble warriors and she will give him her token. A symbol, to show the other men that he is battling for his ladyfair. To lose would be to dishonor his name and hers as well."

Looking to Hama, Rosleigh reached to untie the bit of ribbon that held the end of her braid, and stepping forward, she tied it securely to Hama's wrist, "I've no doubt... You'll win."
 
Hama stared up at Ros in surprise and slight mortification. He had indeed seen those bouts - and been appalled that anyone would willingly step into the ring, even for a lady. Yet, there was a slight warmth in the center of his chest, thinking that she had chosen him to 'carry' her honor in a sense, though the weight of it was there as well. To her, this was a serious matter, even if they had jokingly decided to drag Hama along to play his favorite, most dangerous sport - besides catch the Black Plague.

"And if I lose? Wouldn't want to see that your honor has been sullied, Dearest Guest," Hama half-joked.

"Ah, it's too late for that, Hama! Now that she's bet on you, it looks you've an obligation to win. Not that you have much of an issue with that," Etzla chuckled. "Betting office is over there, Lady Ros. Tzemri knows how to speak Loren. As luck has it, they like this almost as much as the Creazi do."

With that, Hama went down to get fitted in the special gear a racer would need, entering as an amateur rather than as a professional. Down below, he walked up to the wall and cracked his hands, his demeanor suddenly changing from the meek doctor to a confident athlete. It was an odd transition, to see his shoulders thrown back, head craned high to look up at the bell that was every racer's prize. It was hard to believe he was such a trembling wreck in every other aspect of his life.

Etzla leaned against the banister of the roof, grinning as he watched his little brother. "I always told him he should've thrown his lot in with the Climbing Guild, but his duty to his mother's just too much for him. A damn shame. He would've made for a fine competitor."
 
After placing a hefty bet, one, indeed, that would reflect greatly win or lose, Rosleigh returned to the viewing area, glancing back to Etzla only briefly.

"I need to speak to you while he isn't here, Etzli. I have something I need you to do, should he win." And watching Hama, she was most assured that he would. There was a confidence in him that he hadn't carried. Even in his medical work...

She had no doubt he would win, and was, in fact banking on it. Resting her hands on the banister, she watched Hama intently, but there was a distance to her expression... "I need your word that you will not tell him. He cannot know what I'm planning, or he will try to stop me. And I have to do this. If you don't think this is something you can do, I understand... But I need to know, now. Tonight."
 
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Etzla looked taken aback by the proposition. The large man nodded his head, and he said simply, “I trust your judgment, Princess. What is it that you happen to be planning for dear Mohamid?”

His eyes were locked on his younger brother.

“He is dear to me. I shall support you, but understand that if it would hurt his feelings....”
 
"You misunderstand" She said softly, her gaze drifting briefly in his direction, "It's not about him, Etzli."

A sigh escaped and she turned her eyes back to the men preparing to climb, "I understand your connections run fairly deep into areas Hama is less willing to endeavor into. That you are in contact with some less scrupulous men. I need you to find someone for me... Someone who would be willing, for a great sum, to kidnap a foreigner."

Without looking at him, she ran her fingers along the balustraud before her, "Before you say anything, please know I have weighed the risks. I understand them all too well. But also know, I will not be chained to a life of misery. To be traded for favor and recognition by a man who has no regard for anyone but himself. This is the only way I can see of getting out, Etta... Without ruining Hama."
 
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Etzla listened to her proposition quietly, his mind racing as he thought of the ramifications of what the princess had laid before him. He cracked a wide smile all of a sudden, clapping a large hand on her neck and shaking her slightly as he cackled.

"You little jaitan! How dare you say such things of my reputation! Though that is not to say they are not true...." he admitted, standing straight up with his arms crossed over his chest. "It is not a bad idea. I believe that you need an exit plan, however. And we shall have to hire someone who is not Azawi as well. Even the Hashashin would balk a bit at crossing Morab, if just because he would be a trifling pain to deal with. You chose a good place to talk about this as well, though admittedly we should try to stay discreet..."

Etzla seemed invigorated by the challenge, his mind whirring along as he tried to hammer out the details of such an extraction.

"Don't worry about cost. I will take care of that. Anything for our dearest guest," Etzla said with a wink.
 
She breathed out only when he reacted, a sound of relief that was followed by a soft, nervous laugh at his humorous response. He wasn't angry, and he seemed, even, to consider it a viable idea, neither of which she had expected, but it was a great weight off of her chest that he didn't tell her no, outright. She needed to do something, and this seemed to be the safest course of action, that wouldn't involve Hama or endanger him in any way.

But as Etlza continued, her expression fell slightly, "No... No, Etzli..." Turning to him, Rosleigh reached out to give his hands a squeeze, shaking her head, "No. You mustn't pay for a thing. It cannot fall back on you. Not on any of you. That's why I need to raise the money. I have enough, but if I were to use everything in my purse, Father might be suspicious. It cannot be traced, and this is the only way I know of. Honestly, I was going to watch the climbers and hope for the best... it was just a bit of luck that Hama came along, and that you revealed his secret."

Shifting to watch again, she sighed, "...You think it would work, though? My hope is... if I can get out, if they think it was a kidnapping, then no blame can be placed, and in time, I can send word to Hama... that I am well." Privately, it was her hope that Hama would be able to join her, but she would never say it aloud... not when she knew what it would mean... Not when she knew what he'd have to give up.
 
Etzla waved his hands at her, shaking his head with a moue of displeasure. He muttered, “No, no, no, no princess - you are thoughtful, but too thoughtful. Now - I would allow you to give me the coin needed, but for me to use it in such a way that would cause no undue attention, I must have control over such funds. Your idea - it is ingenious. But you are young and naïve and you know not the ways of money washing.”

Etzla tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially. The man possessed a brilliant, scarily sharp mind for someone in such a large, intimidating body, and the spark in his eyes showed a true interest in the plan at hand.

“Now, do I think it can work....? Yes. Most definitely. But it will require finesse, not to mention discretion. You must trust my judgment on that mark, though I shall keep you informed.”