Needless to say, it's unusual for respected guests to arrive at nightβΈ» but Azar-Ban is nothing if not accommodating to the unusual.
Crow's day job, these days, is essentially to attend parties. The king throws a lot of them, for every occasion he can think of βΈ» everything from the arrival of royal guests to holidays that nobody has celebrated for a thousand years βΈ» and Crow's job is to entertain, to enamor, and to ply whatever politician or business's opinion that's currently paying him. It's no secret that he's for sale, and in this royal court, that's tolerated because his price is extremely high; only the wealthy can buy his services, and thus, only people that the king thinks are worth his attention. The king is a philanthropic man, and Azar-Ban is a city where anybody can thrive, but he's royalty. Of course he has his biases.
Still, it's not usually Crow's job to personally greet new arrivals. There's a whole committee for that, headed by a woman named Phosphor, the type of person who's friendly but in the slimiest of ways, always bowing and scraping for the approval of the guests she's trying to entertain. So when the king had off-handedly told Crow to go welcome their newest guest as he arrived that night, he had of course questioned why.
Because he's clearly an odd duck, and I think you'd have more luck charming his pants off, the king had replied merrily. You always manage to find a way to get the weird ones in your favour.
So, here Crow is. Waiting outside the outer gate. Azar-Ban is a walled city, enormous and sprawling, with the royal complex at the north end set up against a series of red walled cliffs, and residential suburbs radiating outward from there. Beyond its walls lays a desert of golden-red sand, brutal to travel through even in the cooler seasons, but many make the trip nonetheless. Azar-Ban is a jewel in the desert, rich with local mining resources and trade. The walls are high sandstone, guards patrolling atop it visible by the pinprick light of their torches in the night.
And there, over the nearest crest of dunes, comes their visitor.
A couple of camels trail behind him, heavily laden with supplies. Otherwise, Phyre cuts a lone figure in the desert, curiously enigmatic. Crow has met esoteric scholars before, but this one has a particular reputation.
Crow rises to meet him. Dressed in black, his pants are loose at the thigh and knee, tight with dark bandages wound around the shin. Similarly, his shirt is a gauzy thing, draped off the shoulder and loose around his forearms but tight with leather cuffs at his wrists. Jewelry drapes him in a way that should be ostentatious, but somehow he makes it work, thin golden chains clasped over his chest and gold glittering in a braid in his hair. He's not especially dressed up, only a little βΈ» Phyre's arriving at night, after all, one can't expect a man to be in his court best at night, for god's sake.
"Phyre, scholar of Constantinople," he greets when the man reaches the front gate, swung open and welcoming. Crow's expression splits in a smile, somewhere between welcoming and a little too charming for his own good, not even bothering to hide it. "The gates of Azar-Ban welcome you, shield you, and nurture you βΈ» may this city treat you well, and may its people treat you as their own." Formalities, you know how they are. "I am As The Crow Flies, but you can call me Crow. The king sent me to welcome you and escort you to the apartments you'll be staying in."
His gaze tracks to the camels, curious. "Is this truly all you travel with? Most come with an entire retinue."
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Needless to say, it's unusual for respected guests to arrive at nightβΈ» but Azar-Ban is nothing if not accommodating to the unusual.
Crow's day job, these days, is essentially to attend parties. The king throws a lot of them, for every occasion he can think of βΈ» everything from the arrival of royal guests to holidays that nobody has celebrated for a thousand years βΈ» and Crow's job is to entertain, to enamor, and to ply whatever politician or business's opinion that's currently paying him. It's no secret that he's for sale, and in this royal court, that's tolerated because his price is extremely high; only the wealthy can buy his services, and thus, only people that the king thinks are worth his attention. The king is a philanthropic man, and Azar-Ban is a city where anybody can thrive, but he's royalty. Of course he has his biases.
Still, it's not usually Crow's job to personally greet new arrivals. There's a whole committee for that, headed by a woman named Phosphor, the type of person who's friendly but in the slimiest of ways, always bowing and scraping for the approval of the guests she's trying to entertain. So when the king had off-handedly told Crow to go welcome their newest guest as he arrived that night, he had of course questioned why.
Because he's clearly an odd duck, and I think you'd have more luck charming his pants off, the king had replied merrily. You always manage to find a way to get the weird ones in your favour.
So, here Crow is. Waiting outside the outer gate. Azar-Ban is a walled city, enormous and sprawling, with the royal complex at the north end set up against a series of red walled cliffs, and residential suburbs radiating outward from there. Beyond its walls lays a desert of golden-red sand, brutal to travel through even in the cooler seasons, but many make the trip nonetheless. Azar-Ban is a jewel in the desert, rich with local mining resources and trade. The walls are high sandstone, guards patrolling atop it visible by the pinprick light of their torches in the night.
And there, over the nearest crest of dunes, comes their visitor.
A couple of camels trail behind him, heavily laden with supplies. Otherwise, Phyre cuts a lone figure in the desert, curiously enigmatic. Crow has met esoteric scholars before, but this one has a particular reputation.
Crow rises to meet him. Dressed in black, his pants are loose at the thigh and knee, tight with dark bandages wound around the shin. Similarly, his shirt is a gauzy thing, draped off the shoulder and loose around his forearms but tight with leather cuffs at his wrists. Jewelry drapes him in a way that should be ostentatious, but somehow he makes it work, thin golden chains clasped over his chest and gold glittering in a braid in his hair. He's not especially dressed up, only a little βΈ» Phyre's arriving at night, after all, one can't expect a man to be in his court best at night, for god's sake.
"Phyre, scholar of Constantinople," he greets when the man reaches the front gate, swung open and welcoming. Crow's expression splits in a smile, somewhere between welcoming and a little too charming for his own good, not even bothering to hide it. "The gates of Azar-Ban welcome you, shield you, and nurture you βΈ» may this city treat you well, and may its people treat you as their own." Formalities, you know how they are. "I am As The Crow Flies, but you can call me Crow. The king sent me to welcome you and escort you to the apartments you'll be staying in."
His gaze tracks to the camels, curious. "Is this truly all you travel with? Most come with an entire retinue."