Tunio set his barefoot on the pier. He turned and saw several bare-chested men, all wearing ragged brown trousers, descend from the ship. After them came Gazali, Metilia and Aquillia. Gazali, still in his uniform, tossed a small leather bag to Tunio. He also carried a small leather bag on his shoulder.

Tunio caught the bag and placed his meager possessions into it.

Metilia was dressed in a summer dress hanging off two small straps. The sleeveless, light green dress was made from a thin fabric that clung to her body and ended at mid-thigh. She carried a leather bag over one shoulder.

Aquillia was only wearing a light, mid-thigh-length skirt of green that matched her skin.

“You guys taking some shore leave?” Tunio asked as they gathered around him on the pier.

“We couldn’t let you wander around the city on your own,” Metilia said.

“First thing we need to do is find a place to put our bags down and then show you the city,” Gazali said.

“We want one that is in the market district,” suggested Aquillia, “we don’t want to stay here with the crew.”

“Lead the way, Aquillia,” Tunio said.

Aquillia turned and walked down the pier. Tunio followed her and Metilia and Gazali took up the rear. Aquillia led them down the pier and took a right at the end. She wound her way through the small streets congested with people from all over the world.

Tunio watched as tall elves, humans, dwarfs, and gnomes moved around conducting their business in the common tongue.

They passed a small alleyway that was jammed with dwarfs sitting and drinking and singing. They all were dressed in simple roughhewn robes.

Next to the alleyway, a group of brightly painted dark elves ran a shop where they used their body paint to reapply coats of paint over other naked dark elves.

A warehouse across the road bustled with gnomes flying on wings at head height to a group of naked men. A ship crawled with workers unloading its cargo. A line of women in white robes sang a chant as they marched down the street. People ducked away from them. The woman in front, completely nude, carried a censer of myrrh that smoked, the smell of its perfume filling the street.

Further along, the buildings changed from stone constructions to a mixture of crystal carvings and stone and wood constructions. In the crystal buildings, gnomes dressed in an assortment of colors and shades walked around, sometimes jumping out of windows and flicking their wings, and ascending a level or two. One building with a wooden construction had thin, gauzy curtains, and gentle music could be heard coming from inside, carrying the salty tunes of a lute and pipes. Outside, a big man with a grey skirt and muscles stood with his arms crossed. On the other side of the door stood a woman wearing a thin robe that was cinched on her shoulder. The robe fell from the clasp at her shoulder and was pinned on either side of her waist. The exposed breast was painted with a complex pattern of spirals, described in thick and heavy lines of encrusted paints which showed poor workmanship.

Aquillia came to a stop outside a whitewashed building decorated with a shingle, showing a boar’s head with a large apple in its mouth. The building sat in the corner of a large open square.

“I will get us rooms,” Aquillia said, stepping inside.

Tunio turned and looked around the plaza which featured a large statue of a naked gnome with wings outstretched. The statue, which stood several meters tall, was carved with intricate detail. Nothing was overlooked.

“The gnomes are a proud people,” commented Metilia, “they also don’t share some nations' fashion with clothing.”

“I was looking at the size,” Tunio commented, twisting his head back to see the top of the statue.

“The size of what?” laughed Gazali.

“Men,” Metilia cursed and marched inside.

“Do you think that the proportions are accurate?” asked Tunio.

“Not sure,” Gazali said, “have to admire the artist and the model.”

“You have a room each,” Aquillia said, stepping through the door. She handed a key to each of them. “You are both on the third floor.”

They went inside and ascended the stairs. They dropped their possessions in their own small room with a double bed and a window at the far end. Coming back outside, they met the women. A group of people were gathering around the inn, all looking at a poster attached to the wall. Tunio stood a couple of people back and read the poster.

“The king, his great majesty, King Angularis would like to announce a treasure hunt,” Tunio read aloud.

“A treasure hunt,” exclaimed Metilia. “Sounds like a good way to spend the next couple of days.”

Tunio continued to read, “King Angularis seeks the Belt of Veritas, an ancient artifact lost since the great king Cordifoliawore it in the Battle of Independence.”

“That’s great. Does it give anything else?” asked Gazali.

“Just a poem it seems,” Tunio replied.

“Honour and glory,

reveal the soul

remain true to your word

and see glory.

Lies destroy the heart and mind.

Truth frees the soul,

Honesty shall humble you.

Gains shall follow.”

“That is vague,” Aquillia commented.

“It says that the person to discover the belt will receive ten thousand folia as a reward,” Tunio finished.

“That’s a king’s ransom,” said a dwarf next to Tunio. He was dressed in metal armour and had a long beard tied into a single plait. “Thank you for reading the notice.” The dwarf strode off as the crowd began to disperse.

“What is a folia’?”

“A folia is a gold coin minted here, and is the gnomish currency,” said Gazali. “For that much currency, you could live very well for many years.”

“I want to find this Belt of Veritas,” Tunio said.

“I am not sure we will have the time to find it before the ship leaves in three weeks,” bemoaned Aquillia.

“I will find it,” Tunio said.

“At the least, it will give us something to do for the next week,” Metilia said, placing a hand on Tunio’s arm, smiling up at him.

Gazali looked at Metilia’s gesture and he furrowed his brow.

***

A middle-aged lady stood on the other side of the plaza. She wore a simple yellow skirt that came to the knees. Off the belt hung a simple khopesh. She leaned on a walking stick and her hair was flecked with grey. Yet her skin was dark and firm, defying her age. Beside her stood her son, a tall man with rich black hair. His features were cast in a frown as he watched his mother. He only wore a knife belt, with two knives on either side of his waist. His body was lean and gaunt. When he came out of the shop with a small parcel in his hands, and she saw the parcel, she started to move on. She rounded the plaza and spotted the crowd on the far side near the Whole Hog beginning to break up. As the crowd cleared, she saw a tall man wearing a pair of ragged trousers, his dark hair cut short and his body dense with muscles.

“It can’t be?” She clutched at her left arm, trying to draw breath. Pain ripped through her arm and shot into her chest. She bent forward, leaning heavily on her walking stick.

“Mother,” the young man wailed.

His mother collapsed and fell face-first into the dirt of the street. He went down and rolled her over into his lap.

“He can’t be,” she whispered. “It just can’t be Akuchi, he would be old now.”

“Who, Mother?” the man wailed.

Tunio heard the wail and ran across the plaza where he saw the man clutching an older woman, tears streaking down his face.

“Akuchi,” she murmured, “I have grown so old waiting for you.”

“What did she say?” Tunio asked the young man.

“Are you Akuchi?” the young man asked.

“I am not,” Tunio replied. He furrowed his brow. Why is he calling out my father’s name? Is Akuchi a very common name?

The ancient woman faded and died, clutched in the arms of her son. She sighed as her life left her.

“She is dead,” Aquillia said, looking at the woman.

“She can’t be, she still had so much to live for,” her son wailed, tears streaming down his face.

“Let’s get her to a temple,” Gazali suggested.

“The nearest one is around the corner,” Aquillia said.

Gazali picked up her legs and Tunio took her shoulders and started to follow Aquillia out of the plaza to the nearest temple.

“What is your name?” Metilia asked, picking up the lady’s walking stick.

“I am Anatoli Kaori,” he replied, drying his eyes.

“I am Metilia Fidelis, and mother is the elf, Aquillia. My friends are Gazali and Tunio,” she said.

“Thanks,” Anatoli answered.

They rounded the corner and entered the temple. Emblazoned on its wall was a staff with a snake entwined around it. As they entered the sanctuary, a large portly man ran toward them wearing a blue robe with a red cord at the waist. He beckoned them to lay the lady on one of the wooden benches.

“What is her name?” he asked, as they set her gently on a wooden bench.

“Mayu,” Anatoli declared.

He bent over Mayu and inspected her face and left arm.

“What killed her?” he asked.

Anatoli recounted the events to the priest.

The priest nodded. “Heart attack. It is a pity we don’t know enough about how to prevent it; it’s lost knowledge. A century ago we could have not only prevented it but also have brought her back, but the great cataclysms destroyed much of the old knowledge. Do you want me to arrange for a burial?”

“I have no money to pay for a burial,” Anatoli stated.

“That’s okay, son,” the priest said. “I can arrange for a pauper burial.”

“Thank you,” Anatoli said, “when can I say my goodbyes?”

“Say them now. I can give you an hour,” the priest said, “you won’t want to see her after you leave her with us.”

Anatoli nodded and turned Metilia, “Could you meet me for a drink in an hour at the Whole Hog?”

Metilia nodded.

“We will all join you in an hour,” Tunio said.