The Fair City of Rondón

Roxanne strolled casually through the gates of Rondon, glancing around in wonder. She'd heard about this place, but had never managed to make her way out here until now. She'd heard that it was the home of some excellent wine, which seemed exciting. Roxanne had always loved wine, perhaps a bit more than she should. Still, it seemed like a nice place to stay for a week or so. Who knew, maybe she'd pick up a job or two. For now, though, she walked through the streets, looking for an inn of some sort. It certainly was a pretty city, and the weather was wonderful.

Grandma

The carriage traveled on the well-traveled and well-maintained roads of Rondón, coming to the great city itself through rolling hills. In the distance -- if she were to even look -- outside of the curtain wall of the city, she'd be able to see groves of olive trees and cypress, as well as several hills that were just covered in vineyards, making for a beautiful vista.

The smell of the fresh-water of the river made the air sweet, and even the sun, though bright, did not shine down so hot. Ships dotted the Ryel River -- a river that was large and wide enough to hold a river-navy if necessary -- and the vision of their rival, The City of Zephyr , could be seen far across the wide and sparkling river between the ships that sailed to and fro.


But the carriage was not going for Zephyr, but for Rondon, and approached the large and fortified curtain wall where guards could be seen on patrol. The road became a little clogged and busy with people coming in and out, but grandma's conveyance found itself to the guard house.

"Ah, yes, welcome, welcome," said the Guard Captain, the greeting half-assed as his gaze fell to the papers he was examining. He was the owner of a considerable and excellently groomed mustache, accompanied by a well-trimmed beard along his stately jaw. "Ah, from Eesrah, yes. Welcome." He handed the papers back and looked up at the driver.

"I assume you do not come with goods, but with contracts, no?" the guard asked, needing a little more information before he could correctly direct the carriage.

Much to her frustration, Roxanne did not understand a word on any of the signs. She hoped that the people could speak common, or else she wouldn't get very far at all. Her rudimentary grasp of Gaulish wouldn't be able to help much either. Still, it was a very pretty city, and she enjoyed taking in all the sights and sounds as she walked over the cobbles. She strolled along until she spotted what appeared to be an ice cream seller with a cart. Ice cream had always been a rare treat at the family estate when she was young, but she'd always liked it. Walking over to the man, she smiled and waved.

"Hello! How much for a cone?"

Roxanne Fletcher

The man had just finished serving a young woman with her son, and he chuckled as they walked away. Then he turned and saw Roxanne, and she started speaking to the slightly-grey man about something. "Eh?" he asked.

His daughter, who had been shining some yellow-hued apples in a barrel nearby smirked and came over. "He does not speak common," she informed Roxanne, her accent heavy. She turned and spoke to her father for Roxanne, the Rondi language fluid and rich, like a nice glass of wine.



"What flavor do you want?" she wondered at Roxanne and gestured to the car where 8 bucket-like structures sat, different hues in each one. It was not ice cream at all, but gelato, and there were bits of fruit and other yummy edibles in each bucket -- rapsberry chunks in the rapsberry one, pistachio chunks in the pistachio, but one that was vaguely marooned color had no chunks in it but little flower petals.

Roxanne had never seen gelato before, and it all looked like ice cream to her. She looked over the various delicious-looking flavors, and decided that she was in the mood for something sweet and fruity.

"Could I get the raspberry, please? That looks good...also, do you know where I could find a room for the night?"

Hmm...it would be difficult not understanding the language, but at least some of them spoke common. That was...something, at least. The girl seemed nice enough, anyways. Perhaps she'd be able to help her.

"Do most people here speak common, or no? I just speak common and some Gaulish...not Rondi."

Roxanne Fletcher

The daughter translated for the father, and the father chuckled and nodded, reaching to make Roxanne's request. The daughter looked at Roxanne as the foreign woman spoke, requesting a hotel and speaking of languages.

"Gauldish... That is the snobby language of people to North, si?" The girl asked. The father handed over the raspberry gelato, his hand out for payment. He spoke to his daughter, who replied in turn and made the man chuckle. The daughter translated.

"He says that Rondi is the only language anyone should know," she said, amused at her father's patriotism. He smiled and nodded at Roxanne, and spoke in his own broken common. "Langooaj uff Lohv."

The daughter chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Enough people in Rond'on speak common. You will find room and board at LaSigra Tal'on," she directed Roxanne.

"Continue down the street and make two--" her father interrupted her and they had a short argument in Rondi before she rolled her eyes. "My father says three, but I say two rights and a left, then two more rights and another left. If you see a bronze bull, you are too far."

Grandma

The carriage was inspected, both inside and out. The captain who looked inside and found Grandma glanced at her once and then inspected the inside of the carriage from where he stood outside, never joining her inside. "No, dona, we are simply inspecting."

He stepped back and closed the door and had a brief conversation with the guards that passed around it. Then, he handed the papers back to the driver and looked up at him. "Continue down this main road -- this road is called Corazon de LaMireia. You will come to a... mmm, we will say a large courtyard de terros -- bulls. A big building, yellow, with a black roof. That is the guild hall for merchants. There you can seek for who will make you a deal."

He pat the side of the carriage and moved away, onto the next issue that he had to deal with at the gate to Rondon.

The driver offered the guardsman his thanks for the instruction and flicked the reins at the pair of horses. With a snort, the two horses started off at a trot down the road in the direction the guards had indicated. While the carriage rolled down the road, Grandma pulled back the carriage’s curtain slightly, studying the various sights and sounds that filled Rondon.

She had heard that this city was well known for its wine, something Grandma was rather interested in investing in. Although Isra already produced a wide variety of alcoholic beverages itself, perhaps the wine from Rondon would be a bit more exotic, something to sell to the rich.

After a short time, the carriage pulled to a stop at what appeared to be the merchants guild hall. The younger driver hopped down as before, offering a bow as Grandma climbed out of the carriage, ornate cane in one hand and her bag hanging on a strap that rests on her shoulder. With orders for the drivers to find a more suitable place to park the carriage, Grandma headed towards the entrance of the guild hall.

The first matter of business was finding a clerk of some kind. While searching for a clerk, Grandma took note of the others that were present in the merchant’s guild hall. She was mainly paying attention to see if it appeared there were any other foreigners present.

Grandma would ride through the city through its wider lanes, following the directions that the mustached captain had given. The larger roads were smooth, but the smaller ones buckled a bit, even with the fine springs of the carriage given the narrow passage ways. There was the occasional shout from upset citizenry, but soon Grandma would be entering through wrought-iron gates to the Merchant's Guild.




It was indeed yellow, and there were multiple and many carriages waiting out within the open and wide center, as well as caravans and wagons that were in the process of loading and unloading. It was certainly crowded for people, but there was one area that seemed to be kept marginally clear with liveried guards outside it was a door.

This door was clearly not the servant's door.




Once inside, Grandma would upon a very large room with the sound of Rondi conversation filling the air and pockets of people this way and that. There were liveried guards stationed there and all around the room, several doors leading several places, paintings of people she wouldn't know and events that she hadn't known had even taken place.



A fancy and almost dandy looking man saw Grandma enter, and he paused the conversation he was having to walk over, the heels of his buckled shoes clacking upon the glossy black-and-white tile floor of the room, and the sun gleaming off of his perfectly bald head. Like the captain at the gate, he sported an exceptional mustache -- indeed, most men in the room did.

"And what have we here?" he asked in Rondi, assuming that anyone who was within the city and within the Merchant guild hall would know how to speak the language.